Lets be ontologically semantical here

Culturally unacceptable does not equate to wrong

In the early days of America it was wrong to read, go to the theatre or to dance

In Singapore in the 1960s it was wrong for males to have long hair.

When books were first invented, it was wrong to read silently, lest oral culture would cease.

In the middle east, it is wrong for women to be seen.

Before the protestant era, it was wrong for the laity to read the bible.

In medieval Japan, it was wrong to have a samurai hairstyle if you weren't one.

In 17th century Russia, it was wrong to grow a beard.

In Michigan, it was wrong for a woman to cut her hair without her husband's consent.

No. we could go on forever on the issue of morality. But... let's all see beyond the inconvenience caused.

Whatcha thinking, doing the things you do
Whose opinion are ya listening to?
Justifying, you turn it all to gray
Synchronizing to society's ways

Socially acceptable, it's okay, it's all right
Socially acceptable, it's okay, in whose sight
Socially acceptable

Times are changing, with morals in decay
Human rights have made the wrongs okay
Something's missing, and if you're asking me
I think that something is the G-O-D

To label wrong or right by the people's sight
Is like going to a loser to ask advice
And by basing your plans
On another man's way of living life
Is creating a brand of ethics
Sure to be missing the punch
No count morals that are out to lunch
They're sliding away cause everything is okay
It was taboo back then but today ya say, "What the hey"

socially respectable
socially acceptable
socially respectable

DC Talk ~ Socially accpetable

What really bugs me, is that I can't concentrate on my sociology mid-term anymore.

Normal: Perhaps the strangest thing you'll ever be.

"Take off your cool, I wanna get to know you"

People and me

Relationships take on new meanings everday.

I like that.

Identity

Human.
Human.Female.
Human.Female.Chinese.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.Canadain.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.Canadain.UBC student.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.Canadain.UBC Arts Student.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.Canadain.UBC Arts First Year Student.
Human.Female.Chinese.Singaporean.Canadain.UBC Arts First Year Student.Twenty.

Christian.

So many faces.
And I only need one heart to make it right.

Swing me
I've been pretty torn lately. Been emotionally hyped and rollercoasted.
A lot to balance.
A lot to handle.

One me.

Now what do I do with all these feelings inside?

Ugliness and Imperfection aren't aspects, character traits or adjectives.
They're individual states of being. Something that cannot be controlled, suppressed or hidden.

And that's me.

When worlds collide

I was browsing through friendster looking for a childhood friend. I found another, already connected to me, one of the many that i've added along the way.

Only, this one was different, sieving through her profile brought down upon me the weight of 15 years, of being best friends and then... no body.

I really don't know how to articulate myself, or to explain why I felt like crying over five pictures.

Friends forever,
The tower of Babble,
That massive crush I had on her brother,
Her waking me 14 years earlier,
Swopping clothes,
Over-nighters,
Gossip,
Being infactuated with the same guy,
Being sisters,
Bouncing on huge cushions
Dancing,
Waking her up with a stare,
Watching the construction site opposite her window,

Growing up,
Growing apart.

She's still so beautiful.

Sometimes, I feel very left behind.

Take me by the hand

There are some relationships that don't shape the way I'd like them too. I keep thinking that I ruin so many things by simply being who I am. That I repulse and repel. But then I have to remember that God makes all things beautiful, in His time.

We'll get there

And for me, sheer fascination is not enough

I had a CNY dinner till late last night at Lougheed Wonton Restraunt. I woke up with my soul suspended somewhere between power and powerlessness, dream and reality.

It's an awkward feeling, being birthed.
The coming out of a wet, warm delicious womb,
Feeling it violently slide away from your skin, being sacrificed.
And the cold thin air, reaching out to receive you.
For that one moment, you're really not sure of where you are or what to make of it all.
Your muscles controt instinctually,
Siezures of fear, cold, joy and freshness take you by the hand and tango you around the hospital room.
Rocking from hand to hand, that intense moment of who you are escalates to a lungful cry...

and then....
... consciousness

Of course, I had to be a C-section birth.