Ok, so I spent my midnight blowing up watermelons and guac.

Look at that smile. I swear Andre is only complete with he's destroying something.


Something = Watermelon


Watermelon engulfing Andre


Watermelon, post Andre, in Tony's hands


I thought my childhood ended when I came to Canada.
Apparently it has just begun.

I love my roomies, esp the one behind the camera.

The daylight seems to be a long way off.

You are irreconcilable in my life. You are everything that makes it impossible for me to be whole and free. You made me human.

I guess this will be my freedom.

Walk on.

In other news, I want to sing like Shawna Beesley.

Chen Yi Ann Ian.

Ok. This baby boy MSNed me and demanded a blog post dedicated to him. And having been Iannized for 5 odd years, I think I can deal.

Straight off the back, I love him. I love him to bits and he lingers on my mind ever so often even though we are oceans apart. Whenever Tony and I talk of our youth ministries back 'home', Ian (and Shawn, and Adele and...) pops to mind.

I think above all, I worry for him. I know I shouldn't. I've grown with him and have seen him to be both strong and resilent and more capable of taking care of himself then most people. But I also know it's a painful contradiction to be so strong and stubborn and yet so vulnerable to a sense of belonging. So I worry, that Ian might do something stupid in his rashness only to regret later. But that's none of my business. I am only resolved to listen to him and council him and above all, to keep loving him despite anything.

I've known since he was 12. That is a pretty crucial age, I think. And I believe that it's taken it's effect. My fondest memory of Ian was experience here in Canada. We had fought in the Summer of 2004 which culmulated in me swearing on public transit and us ignoring each other for sometime. 6 months later, he pens a blog entry dealing with all that, and more. I cried. And these things don't make me cry easily. But he can.

I think he'll always be a brat to me. But I always stand amazed everytime I go back to singapore and see him acumulating hidden wisdom beyond his years. Usually shrouded by his pride and laxed nature. I hate being so far away from him, and every summer I go back to singapore with the fear and insecurity that I have been replaced in his life, or that I am somewhat irrelavent and unimportant. Oh I know life goes on and people fade in and out, but I am sentimental.

Anyway, whatever the case, I am glad to be a part of his life, espeically while he was growing. I am glad that he would call me with issues and questions. I am glad that we fought and that he's now asking if he can come here to study and play ice.

Two lives, here, there, in every sense of the word.

The Lord keep you and bless you, the Lord make his face shine upon you....

Nice try.

I want to be able to blog in Chinese.

I have positively fallen in love with the language. It's lyricism, grace, purity and strength. It contains an entire culture, rich with historical imprints, a proud heritage and and clear identity. Ok so Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon has been totally hollywoodized, and it's clear that the western view of love between two Chinese People entails battling it out in the middle of the Mongolian desert over one's jade comb and intrinsic chinese pride. Sure, whatever.

My journey with the Chinese Language has been an interesting one. I went though my secondary school and JC years being the failure of the class. My one and only break-down due to stress occured over the GCE O level Chinese exams. My parents even recall me railing in anguish: "I am CANADIAN! I am NOT Chinese!"

I am currently, however, embarking on a plan to watch one chinese movie every weekend to improve my language ability. This would ultimately improve my grades in the 4 chinese classes that I am taking this year.

Yes.
You read me right.

4 Chinese (Zhong Wen) Classes.

And may I point out that they are not jock classes. I'm doing 300 level courses here at UBC. That's "Advanced Chinese" in the University of a Billion Chinese. No really, this is actually China, with a lot of white people.

So while I am totally prepared to lose my scholarship, and find 4 less then acceptable grades on my transcript, I am loving every moment of it. The people, the culture, the language. Enough to send me to the moon baby.

But all's not lost. I find that having grown and matured since I was 17 (when I took my last chinese test), I am able to approach the language with more grace and with the respect and awe that it friggin deserves. And beyond that, I can take challenges.

So it's looking good. Although my mid-term was a sheer disater, with the only tian2 xie3 han4 zhi4 that I have a chance at getting right is my name, I actually got 80% for my last essay. Guys do you have any idea what that means?? It either means that the TA has a crush on me, or that maybe this shi1 bai4 she3 isn't that much of a failure after all. hai ke yi ah.

And boy do I have fun doing my essays. Try writing about the effects of ethnocentric development schemes, the growth of capitalism in the west, post-modernism, post-struturalism and the 1994 Mexican economic crisis with the IMF. But it is on these issues tht I burn with passion.

My essays all come back with the same comments.

"Got good reasoning and logic. Language poor"

or something like that.

LOVE ME CHINA!