My house is filthy. Aaron walked in and wailed in despair.
I don't want to live here either.

I somehow felt more comfortable in the slums of Payatas then in this West End Vancouver basement. It's all about relativity and possibility. Daddy suggests this to be training for future residence in a third world country.

*moan*

I'm at a funny stage in my life where I don't feel lost, but know that I really am very very lost. And at the same time, I feel so lost, but know that I really am not.

"I've heard that we only use a small part of our brain. Maybe our soul is the same way. And maybe we're half asleep most of our lives, simply reacting to the stimulus our brain receives.
Action, true action is rare indeed."
~ Jon foreman :: Lead singer-songwriter of Switchfoot speaking about the inspriation for 'Dare you to move'

Someone once said that suicide is the only true act that one could ever make. Everything else cannot be said to be as true. But suicide, it's consequences so existentially tangible, involves the destruction of a being, an entire universe.

Whoever said this was wise, and pretty much barking up the right tree. Crucifying yourself with Christ is probably the only true act one could ever make. The only one worth it anyway.

Dustin notes that my blog is vague and ambiguious, but here's a point that I really want to stress. It came from the previous post: Being a Christian's lame, pathetic and unbecoming. It's ugly and self demolishing. It means saying no to everything that you are and your identity and your uniqueness. It means quiet suffering, thankless sacrifices and personal humiliation. No buts, no catches, no plus factor. Just the presence of God.

I'm going to have to want that pretty badly.
I'm starting to wonder if blogging is unhealthy in that it keeps me self-centered.

I wanna be Queen

Bonhoeffer punishes beyond redemption. In this Christian walk, there is no room for the self but only Jesus. I am called to find greater clarity by losing myself completely. To dissolve, lose my individuality to the indivudal who is infinite. To be senseless (or to have hypersensitivity), to be irrational (or extra-rationality) and to foolish (or wise).

And you won't understand this.
You will scream me to be a heretic.
But it's not for you that I live, or love.

And you do know what I mean

Embracing every heartache.

I watched Saved for the third time today at bible study. And as I sat and thought about where I was and who I was in my christian life and walk, I realise that it has been a while since I've capitulated to utter insecurity and self-denial. And I wonder how much of that is a good thing.

Watching myself interact with the navigators, with people, I find myself disjuncted, somewhat disconnected with the reality of the people around me. Being non-sensitive, and making decisions that haven't really been considered, or if they have been considered, on a very Hannah-centric plane (note: not selfish or self-centered, but something that is culturally specific to me. Go figure).

So here I am floating down the river Time bumping against the people and circumstances, clutching fruitlessly at decisions and consequences. The irreversibility of the course really bugs me. But that's ok, I'm banking on grace here.

There's grace, and then there's holy living.
~ Jon, on dealing with the move.

¹What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? ²By no means! We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?
[Romans Chap 6]

And so when it comes to mistakes when dealing with people, I've learnt as Mel stresses, that there are lessons to take home and awareness to build. Just because I choose to be aware, doesn't necessarily mean that I automatically am.

And I'm sorry to those that i've hurt along the way, for the toes I've stepped on and the trust that I've broken.

---

And Sue; just watching her live how she deals with people and situations has inspired me deeply. Watching how she deals with me.

And conversations with Jon never fail to intrigue. I don't know where they lead to, but that's becuase I don't know where I lead to. But thank you for the book, it will be read.

And Monique, for the casual walking though life, and the frantic running though the rain.

---

Question:

If I screw up, if we have a fight, you and I... will you love me enough, as a friend, to accept me back again?

I think that if I somehow knew, I'd be empowered to be more honest, more true and less reserved with you.

All of you.

My roomies are pretty cool. Eli fixed my blog on Mozilla.

Yes sarah, I gave in to Fire Fox. I still hear you in your sing-song voice: You'll be haaaapppyyyy.

A lot of talk lately about relationships, communities and organizations.
Ultimately, all must work intimately with truth. If not, they have no basis of existance. Unfortunately, this is not an issue that surfaces immediately. Similarly, this is not an issue that inevitably creeps up on you in the weary moments of the night.

Half of us don't know what we're dealing with.

Honestly speaking...
Here's everything, stream of conciousness style:

I'd thought I'd write about everything, just becuase I'm lapsing back into thought mode. Well yesterday I broke Mel's iBook adapter dashing across the living room, catching the cord on my ankle. I hope I can find somewhere to fix it. Fast. Cheap. Good. The inconsistant traid. But may it be.

So before rushing over to pick it up, I talked with a couple of old friends, from my elementary years. It seems that this period of my life is extremely retrospective. Conversations with Faiz and Fahmee dealing with the Nature of God and Isa were interesting to say the least, but talking with Tristan. Those were beautiful days. He remembers my songs, from 5 years ago. You never know how you affect people. Be aware, be responsible.

I picked up Thi at the airport, realising how far apart our worlds are. Oh well, Vanier is over, but good things to come. I will have to make it a point to hang out with the guys sometime this year.

I had a great time at Cath's church today, a Filipino night with food, song and dance. I watched, I danced, I sang, and boy did I eat. But as the night wore on and layers within started falling off, I started to marvel at how an entire country and it's history can condense itself into a single person, a single relaitonship, a single period of time in my life and ultimately, a single facet of me.

Doc John.

As I talked to Cath about Emilio Anguinaldo and his revolution against the spanish I found myself back in Manilla, with the Yeshuans and Powerhouse people, with dennis, in a Museum that took us though a crash course on the History of the Philippines...

The langauge, the people, the food, the intention, the moment. I found myself gravely missing Doc John. It seems that in my life, the entire Philippines existed for him. And then I dig deeper and realise that he is very associated with a particular period of my life. The sunshine coast of my British Columbia. There, powerhouse, singing, Dennis... and the Hannah that was less joyful, but more happy, co-existed in perfect balance. For a split second there, I was cursing time and yearning for yesteryear. I even let out a whimper of "I want my mummy" in front of Dustin. God forbid. He owes me a bashing.

And speaking of Dennis, it's tragic that I remember his blog address and torture myself endlessly by reading it. Well I won't call it torture as yet, not anymore. But it's like some sort of morbid fascination syndrome that kicks in. Like watching a horror flick or reading the news, saturated with rape and plunder. This is what my relationship with Dennis has evolved into: Morbid masochistic fascination. How pathetic. How liberating, how tragic. I hate my humanness, my inclination to read his blog and to... not be impressed.

How longs does it take you to get over 7 years? To Dennis, it seems 7 weeks surfices. It almost seems... inexpensive. For me, geez, I wonder why I existentially crave justice when there is none to be served? Why I am always at the center of my God damn world?

On a lighter note, I've forgotten Dennis' MSN contact and email addresses.
My little murder.
Welcome to my weakness, world.

Doc, why did it turn out this way?

Anyway, hanging out at Cath's place after was a welcome break from solitude. Not like I've been getting too much of it lately, but the notion of just hanging out, adgendaless, really brings a new dimension to group dynamics. You start valuing the worth of indivuals apart from their productive element. It as if everyone in the group were on a massive date, with everyone else. It felt like hanging out aimlessly with a boyfriend, except with 6 of them, and mostly female.

I did DDR, something that I swore I'd never do. I shot down the purist in me and discovered more truth about myself. I will miss Jon Hayes when he leaves for Korea. I will miss the ambling conversations we have about random politics, mostly he talking and I absorbing, like a toddler to a Mother Goose story teller. I hate it when grandual fixtures in my life, of which I am usually oblivious to, suddenly up and leave. But that's the beauty of life.

Gloria is such a blessing, I'm learning by just watching her. Inspired. Dustin is as ridiculous and in need of wrestling buddies as ever before. But I think the occasional attack has brought out a little more spark in me. I have arms and legs, and they aren't just for getting me to class and for typing essays. I'm glad Bena's back.

I love eyes that smile.

I wonder if, as Joe suggests, that my incessant niceness and happiness is unhealthy. But whatever, I'm not here on earth to be a people pleaser and I will be as happy and as nice as I damn well please. As Ive found myself responding silently to a lot of Seth's prescriptions to my lifestyle: If I actively choose to live my life this way, what's it to you? (I sound like happy-nice ball now don't I? )

Dennis Tan suggests that my happiness will fade the more aquainted I get with reality. I think it depends on which reality we're talking about.

I'd like to learn a bit from Ling yu's active decision making skills wrt the purging of the self. From false opinions, from unnessary baggage and people. It's something that I might find invaluable in life.

Good. I'm learning to become more detached to the crippled ideas of humanity and myself.

I had a great day today.

Then I go home to find that our basement was broken into and my roomie's stuff was stolen. Nothing of mine was gone. but that sucks. ass.