Thursday, November 28, 2002

this was the. poem i did for the PC exam
.... Utterly depressing, it's by some 17th century Earl called Wilmot i think.

After Death, nothing is nothing Death,
The utmost Limit of a gasp of Breath;
Let the Ambitious Zealot lay aside
His hopes of heav'n, (whose faith is but his Pride)
Let Slavish Souls lay by their fear;
Nor be concern'd which way, nor where,
After this Life they shall be hurl'd;
Dead, we become the Lumber of the World,
And to that Mass of matter shall be swept,
Where things destroy'd, with things unborn are kept.
Devouring Time swallows us whole;
Impartial Death confounds Body, and Soul.
For Hell, and the Foul Fiend that Rules
God's everlasting fiery Jails
(Devis'd by Rogues, dreaded by Fools)
With his grim grisly Dog, that keeps the Door,
Are senseless Stories, idle Tales,
Dreams, Whimsies, and no more.

Yes well, it was a good paper I thought, I enjoyed it, was squirming in my seat for excitment. I'm just glad I'm doing subjects I actually enjoy. No more Chem or Chinese for me!!

24 hours left to freedom... dear God, please grant me patience...

I will be their possession

I am to be the only inheritance the priests have. You are to give them no possession in Isreal; I will be their possession ~ Ezekiel 44:28

This came up during my QT yesterday. Wow, it guess having a flock of stubborn wilful bickering sheep does pay off eh? But to possess God? Wow, what else could one ask for?

Of course materialistic me says that an uninhibited shopping spree and flawless skin sounds good too. *sigh* When will I get my priorities right?

It's a material world
Oh I am an apostate!

Wednesday, November 27, 2002

Again from Ling's Blog.... she's fast becoming my muse. Poor lit student of a me doesn't really catch this, but it's so poignent.

anyone lived in a pretty how town

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirtit and if by yes.

women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Are you not afraid?

Not me. I am not afraid. I love a good gamble. Killing is my game, so is winning. Believe me baby, there are better ways to get my way, sometimes i just shouldn't. But it's not the end result, it's the process. I love a good game. There is no shrinking in fear from you for me. I know you, I can handle you as you can handle me. Testing the waters? I'm plunging in. If i regret, let me do so alone.

Like you say, there's someone waiting to break it, to push you to your limits on some damned liquour-ridden night. To destroy you, me, all. I will try, the temptation of the challenge to too great for me to handle. I have faith though, that I will know my limits, somehow and I will help you enforce yours... somehow. Temper temper.

Restraint is my biggest problem, and it will be yours.

It's been a long time


I haven't touched the paino or guitar in eons... and when I do, I'd rather stop. *ugh*
So much for the above.


Tuesday, November 26, 2002

One of my favourites, It hits a spot.

Sex without Love
By Sharon Olds.

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth, whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their overall cardio-
vascular health - just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

I rememeber writing a very curt reply to Pastor Eng, when he wrote, inquiring about my absense in church. I used this poem in retort, that this is what the church CAN be about, and how disappointed I was. Well, I'd say that was uncalled for. I think i should write again to apologise, despite it being more then a year. It must be so hard to be in ministry, to be accountable for lives you almost have no power to save. It is utterly lonely isn't it? Just you and God, maybe a few close spiritual mentors and friends... And your sheep, a whole chruchfull of strong-willed, bickering rams... man...

See which Greek Goddess you are.

so often in our own folly, being coped up in our own lil worlds and preoccupations that we forget to take a step back and look at the bigger picture, to look beyond oneself, and you've pointed out to me what my myopia has obscured me from : Grace
and hannah, the grace of God shines on u too baby......... don't forget that........
we're all made beautiful cuz we're in His image.........
~ DQ

Tell me why i love all you guys again?

Battle of the Greeks
I'm so dead... I feel as if I've been to the front and back... Ack.. 6 more hours of exams and 3 days to go... God give me patience.

I saw the most innane thing in School. The plasma screen actually has a count down to SDD... In HOURS.. it was 198 the last i saw... Gosh we're a sad little lot aren't we?

I'm still pretty upset abt everything. half of me wants to run aways and willfully erase everything. The other half, called REASON. thinks otherwise... Dammit.

To you. Wonderfully wonderful

I can't believe it, you're a dream coming true
I can't believe how i have fallen for you.

Monday, November 25, 2002

I got this off Ling's blog. I don't know where it's from or who wrote it, but it's beautiful and I want to say it.

don't be confused by my apparent lack of ceremony, my mind is clear.
I may be low or miles high off in the distance, I want you near.
I love you
Even when I'm sleeping.
When I close my eyes you're everywhere.
And if they take me flying on the magic carpet, see me wave.
If our communication fails I'll reconnect it, I want to rave.
I love you
Even when I'm sleeping.
When I close my eyes you're everywhere.
No matter where the road is leading us remember don't be afraid.
We have a continent that sometimes comes between us, that's ok.
I love you
Even when I'm sleeping.
When I close my eyes you're everywhere.


From a cheesy forwarded e-mail:

Subject: 50 most romantic things to do with your Girlfiend/Boyfriend
Yes they had to get the grammer wrong, for a truely cheesy singaporean touch

38. Go to church/pray/worship together.

"it shows that the 2 of you are really comfortable with each other spiritaully" ~Dennis.


Sunday, November 24, 2002

Bit by bit

headrush, so we'll take this slow

My my, Erwin and Cherry have got to be the sweetest. You guys are like, made for each other. Probably the best relationship you'll have girl, he's a good, considerate, sensible boy... you don't know how much that matters... to me.

Got this off my brother. Witnessed at a race: A parent protesting on behalf of this son "THAT BITCH CALLED MY SON A BASTARD." I don't understand how undignifed people can get... If I were his son, I would disown him, rather be a bastard.

I had a beautiful beautiful day. Got my prom dress finally. Went shopping. Got shot, got scared, got taken away... safe. It's amazing how I'm at equlibrium, perfectly at ease and in balance. But unfortuately... I'm not a full employment.

I was thinking last night: I've cried for sadness, fear, stress, joy, relief... but never for peace and a sense of confirmation. And i did.

Dennis and I were talking about man and God. We kinda charted (with the limited understanding and knowlegde we have) a little pattern in the way relationships work. I realised sometime back that every relationship we have on earth is a reflection of what our relationship with God SHOULD be. Eg, Father, Friend, Brother, King, Lord, Saviour lover ... etc etc etc. Of course we have a tendency to fall short, i mean we are fallen after all, and besides, what we have is simply a diminished representation of the real thing. Like an image in the mirror: It's 2 dimensional and is a poor substitute for the person he's reflecting.

So is there a reason for such a pattern? Is it diadectic in nature? We figured that these relationships are used to direct us to a greater knowledge of an otherwise rather intangible God. If man were isolated and removed from any knowledge of a relationship, how would he know who God is unless He walked with him literally? Of course there are abusive fathers and broken marriages, "so knowing God is not solely dependent on human relationships" Yes. but we're fallen anyway, this may just be ONE of the ways God reveals himself to us. Back to the Mirror concept. Your reflection is not you, but it helps you in knowing yourself better. (physically)

So happy happy... till He spoke. "what's the use of all this knowledge if you do not know ME?"


Some blogs irk me. Ok not the blog, the individual. Then again "everyone irritates you" says my mother... yes, well, maybe, but this one is a direct reminder of my past, my could-have-been-present, and my thank-god-it's-not future. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's longing. Maybe it's bother, a fear of longing.

I was an internet bitch today. To some guy who introduced himself as "Charming and Witty"


Me: charming and witty eh? Ok Granted...
NN: :-l
Me: I'm under the impression that charm and wit are best expressed through verbal interaction. I wasn't aware the emoticons were catagorised as either. \
NN: well can one express both charm n wit through cyber interactions???
Me: Yes, if they actually succeed.

Me: I'm hannah
HH: Lovely name
Me: Right, somehow being subtle is a preogative to charm and wit
NN: Y?
Me: It's pretty hard to be charmed and to be intoxicated by wit when one has a heightened awareness of it's permeating presence.

I'm lucky he was gracious. But whatever.. Grouchy.

You're just too good to be true,
Can't keep my eyes off of you,
You feel like heaven to touch,
I wanna hold you so much...