Business trips make me fat. I will not eat for a week henceforth. Oh except for that christmas party coming up.

Avenged in my happiness.

Couldn't be happier. That's probably why my blog has been so silent.

"What about me Quim?"
"What about you?"
"Why no miracle for me?"

Quim ducked his head, pulled at the short grass in front of him. It was a habit when he was a child, trying to avoid a hard question; it was the way he responded when their supposed father, Marcao, was on a drunken rampage.

"What is it, Quim? Are miracles only for other people?"
"Part of the miracle is that no one knows why it happens."
"What a weasel you are, Quim."

Quim flushed.

"You want to know why you don't get a miraculous healing? Because you don't have faith, Miro."
"What about the man who said, Yes Master, I believe - forgive my unbelief?"
"Are you that man? Have you ever asked for a healing?"
"I'm asking now," said Miro. And then, unbidden, tears came to his eyes. "Oh God," he whispered. "I am so ashamed."
"Oh what?" asked Quim. "Of having asked God for help? Of crying in front of your brother? Of your sins? Of your doubts?"

Miro shook his head. He didn't know. These questions were all too hard. Then he realized that he did know the answer. He held out his arms from his sides. "Of this body," he said.

Quim reached out and took his arms near the shoulder, drew them toward him, his hands sliding down Miro's arms until he was clasping Miro's wrists. "This is my body which is given for you, he told us. The way you gave your body for the pequeninos. For the little ones."

"Yeah, Quim, but he got his body back, right?"
"He died, too."
"Is that how I get healed? Find a way to die?"
"Don't be an ass," said Quim. "Christ didn't kill himself. That was Judas' ploy."

Miro's anger exploded. "All those people who get their colds cured, who get their migraines miraculously taken from them - are you telling me they deserve more from God than I do?"
"Maybe it isn't based on what you deserve. Maybe it's based on what you need."

Miro lunged forward, seizing the front of Quim's robe between his half-spastic fingers. "I need my body back!"

"Maybe"
"What do you mean maybe, you simpering smug ass-hole!"
"I mean," said Quim mildly, "that while you certainly want your body back, it may be that God, in his great wisdom, knows that for you to become the best man you can be, you need to spend a certain amount of time as a cripple."
"How much time?" Miro demanded.
"Certainly no longer than the rest of your life."

Miro grunted in disgust and released Quim's robe.

"Maybe less," said Quim. "I hope so."
"Hope," said Miro contemptuously.
"Along with faith and pure love, it's one of the great virtues. You should try it."

....

"You know what's worse than an asshole, Quim?"
"Sure," said Quim. "A hostile, bitter, self-pitying, abusive, miserable, useless asshole who has far too high an opinion of the importance of his own suffering."

It was more than Miro could bear. He screamed in fury and threw himself at Quim, knockin him to the ground. Of course Miro lost his own balance and fell on top of his brother, and got tangled in Quim's robes. But that was alright; Miro wasn't trying to get up, he was trying to beat some pain into Quim, as if by doing that he would remove some from himself.

After only a few blows, though, Miro stopped hitting Quim and collapsed in tears, weeping on his brother's chest. After a moment he felt Quim's arms around him. Heard Quim's soft voice, intoning a prayer.

"Pai Nosso, que estas no ceu." From there, however, the incantation stopped, and the words turned new and therefore real...

You sound as if you'd take the job.

I would. For a spell, if I were younger. If you went into a New York Law firm next fall, what experience would you have? An extension of what we gave you here at Yale. Nothing wrong with that, but it is limiting. However, if you go to Alaska, you'll be thrown into problems that haven't been defined yet. It's a real frontier, an opportunity to beat new paths.

Alaska ~ James Michener

It's amazing, really, the range of choice we have over the various aspects of our lives. I think it's good to be bold, and to be fearlessly open minded. But also, don't be afraid to make a choice.

Is there irony in the fact that I am getting impatient with unpleasentness? I guess it's all in the response. Be calm, be measured, and try not to pay tooth for tooth.

You're the type of woman to fall in love. It's written all over you, like silver on a gypsy's palm.

You always said kind things to me.

so loved!

It is never too late to do what you should.

Now that I've been on stage and screamed to AC/DC and G n R with a real rock band, I can die in peace.

come back home already!

There is something quite exciting about being taken over the edge.

Although helpful, self-reflexivity does not assist in making one a "better" person.

Learn to play by the rules and to play them well. But don't take them to seriously, and more importantly, learn to break the right rule at the right time and in the right way. While valuable in lending order to society, rules are always inadvertently constructed by another, so be careful when subscribing.

I am but I won't be. I think few people realise the power that their decisions have on the reality about them. Even more so in this (inter-)subjective world.

I've learnt (the hard way) not to fear or deny the emotions that instinctively surface at any given moment. But at the same time, not to grant them full sovereignty over any decision I make. There is a distinction between a signal and its source. One doesn't, for example, react to a fire alarm by dousing it with water.

A part of recognizing that life and reality isn't all that straight-forward and unitary, is understanding that we ourselves, as individual beings, aren't either.

So please, cut yourself some slack.

Album's out.

~ Lelove

But it is up to you to decide if you can work with that.

and suddenly, it all began to matter.

It is a new and subtle feeling to not be missing something or someone, to feel complete whole and balanced.

Things to do with my life:

1. French lessons
   
   Goal: Fluency
   Purpose: To be able to communicate with the Quebec boyfriend in his native language.
   
   
2. Chinese lessons
   
   Goal: Fluency
   
   Purpose: I am Chinese and since so much time, money and effort was spent on my learning the language 10 years ago, I'd like to make something of it. Also, I want to be able to understand Chinese law when I need to.
   
   
   
3. Dance lessons
   
   Goal: Performance
   Purpose: I've got to be able to do SOMETHING with my body, and I want to do it well.
   
   
4. Volunteer
   
   Goal: Here, and stints abroad
   
   Purpose: To give! And to enjoy myself whilst doing so. I've never been a fan of those short-term missions stints, but I think I could get into that, as long as I'm less of a bane than a boon.
   
   
5. Music
   
   Goal: Live in it
   
   Purpose: Because it really keeps me alive. Jam more, vocal lessons, listen more. More more more.
   

It's quite pointless worrying about the intangibles. Important as they may be, worrying seems to be the wrong approach, to anything at all, actually. Just move.

On a separate note, if you're not here, where are you that matters?

I wish someone would carry on the story of Susan Pevensie after the death of her family in the train crash which whisked them painlessly into Narnia at the dawn of the last battle. What happened to her? She who fell out of favour with C.S. Lewis, trading Narnia for lipstick and invitations, without her family or her past. I guess in some sense, it doesn't (shouldn't? wouldn't?) matter to the Narnians who, after all, have Aslan.

I envision her story to be one of heavy redemption, I guess. Not the epic magnificence that surrounded Edmond's redemption from the white witch, but a long-drawn out, complicated process that sighs and groans under the weight of reality, London, Earth. A tired woman in her forties perhaps, haunted by the betrayed beauty of a childhood past, helplessly entwined in who she is today, coming into grace of a different name. Because I guess, the shades in the shadowlands are still caused by slivers of scattered light.

I can't help but feel that we're all Susan and, as I mentioned over drinks and "Desperado" this evening, I resent the church for trying to simply life. All this clutter of how "god has a plan" etc, is all good and well, but it doesn't tell me how to live. God can have his plan but I have a life to live, and while I am delighted to live in the cradle of his plan it just isn't up to me to go about tip-toed trying to peek around for illumination.

Life is difficult, and we make the best of it.

I think I can finally look back at the ideas I had in my youth and understand their naivete. The challenge is to hold on to them and making them work today. Perhaps, it will be the process of ego-exfoliation that will finally make it all fit. Let's hope so.

I always look forward to a quiet night at home alone. Unplanned moments, residual from the day, or the result of a poorly planned evening, little more 'why not' than 'how about'. Play a little music, forcing my aching fingers to form a chord while I swing in and out of the sentiment, generally leaving with a bad taste in my mouth that was my voice. Clicking around, I settle for some music and am overwhelmed by a desire to write.

What?

I don't know.

I don't like it when you're not around.

Black[Box]Saturday

I promised myself that my 2009 would only bring forth goodness. It's just over a year old, and it already has.

Note to self: Never watch a video tape of yourself the night before your performance.

oh alright.

I enjoy working with the kids. They exude a purity that is untrammeled by a sense of self or of falsified dignity. They're loyalty only to their interests, they will try, fall, rise, do, repeat, try, fall, rise, do anything to reach.

After the last wrap, we walked from Peace Centre to Dhoby Ghaut station tossing bits of laughter back and forth. I caught my reflection walking with us along the sidewalk - skirt peeking out unceremoniously from under my brother's over sized ALPA-S sweater.

This reminds me of being in JC.
What does?
Dressing like this. Like you don't care. A short uniform skirt and a baggy sweater and looking beautiful simply because you're young.

Like tiny knots in your hair. These balls of uncertainty ruin everything. But it's ok, right? It will only make you stronger?

Since I figured out how to start posting again, I decided to engage in a little spring cleaning and went through each post down till around May last year. The purpose of which was to delete certain unkind comments left by anonymous readers that serve no purpose, really. Let this act be a reflection of my overall approach to life.

But my real point is that in doing so, I came across much love and encouragement. :) And don't you forget it!

I have solved my unable to post things on my blog problem by switching to the old editor. WOOHOO!

Not that I have anything much to say. :)

Oh! To be a little more like you!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


There. 

I saw a girl complaining that the pain of not being seen was unbearable. I saw the mother lying in bed in her long flowing robes. Then the girl pulled out a sharp sword and told her mother, "Then you must die the death of a thousand cuts. It is the only way to save you."

The mother accepted this and closed her eyes. The sword came down and slicked back and forth, up and down, whish! whish! whish! And the mother screamed and shouted, cried out in terror and pain. But when she opened her eyes, she saw no blood, no shredded flesh.

The girl said, "Do you see now?"

The mother nodded: "Now I have perfect understanding. I have already experienced the worst. After this, there is no worst possible thing."

And the daughter said, "Now you must come back, to the other side. Then you can see why you were wrong."

And the girl grabbed her mother's hand and pulled her through the wall.

~Lena St. Clair: The Voice from the Wall. The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan

There must be a storm coming. The passing minutes are punctuated with bouts of lightning, red, lighting up the silhouette of the far off forest canopy. I love tropical storms, and tonight, I will sleep deeply amidst its clapping power, thankful for the days gone by and the days to come. I cannot recall happier days. I suspect it's security that has descended upon me and my adventurous days are drawing to a stable, timely close.

I am such a cuddle-fiend. Where is the boyfriend when you need him?

yay thank you god for making my life perfect!

Drama Mama

And all I want right now is a foot massage and a cuddle or two.

Would I be angry if this fell through? I guess not. But please dear God, don't let them retract this offer now!

[Edit: 23:47]
Uncertainty is UBER tiring.
That is why faith gives us peace.

abrasive flakes.

I am so so happy!

Facebook sometimes brings you face to face with the odd unsolicited stroll down memory lane. "Memory", perhaps, isn't the right word when you observe images of the present that you have no part of, that you have never lived. But somehow, they still succeed in invoking yesterday's ghost, which has the nasty habit of settling somewhere between my lungs and judging me. Unintentional memento mori conjuring the what-ifs, the what-was and (most poignantly) the whys. At what point did I leave and cease to be here/there? My 14-year-old self looks up and forward onto a different path and grafts herself onto the screen: a wedding photo here, a group shot there... She looks back at me now, is startled, and as most 14-year-olds, she judges me for what I've become.

No she can't understand, and neither can I. I guess I envy a sense of perceived security i see in what I  left behind/was taken from me. But I mostly don't understand why I still give a damn. 

I don't remember when I started to love durian. But boy is it good!

You know it's Singapore when

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, Swimming through sick lullabies, Choking on her CCB, But it's just the price I pay, Destiny is calling me, Open up my eager eyes, Cause I'm Mr Brightside

10 years later, it is wonderful to sit and laugh and be happy for each other. The lack of anger, care and stress are symptoms of deep healing. But more importantly, is a sense of clarity of what is required next and the security in knowing that even if it all falls flat, I'm going to be ok.

I miss writing. Especially since I used to write well.

I miss writing. Especially since I used to write well.

Love is not being alone? Or at least, not fearing change or loss?

DON'T KANCHEONG SPIDER I NEED THIS JOB!

In the space of the mistake, before consciousness of the mistake emerges, something lives, vibrates, shakes. Perhaps it is in the mistake, the place of vulnerability, that we are completely alive.

~ Peggy Phelan, On Seeing the Invisible: Marina Abramovic's The House With The Ocean View

"In its report, Paris-Match said that Ms Dehar was typical of the modern prostitution scene in Paris.

Thanks to police crackdowns and the growth of the internet, the old nightclub-based hostess networks run by pimps and protected by criminal gangs have all but vanished.

Instead the market is dominated by "independents" - many of them students.

"Footballers are their preferred prey. The best-informed know what establishments they like to frequent," Paris-Match said.

Mr Ribery - a convert to Islam who is married and has two children - has been interviewed by police.

However, as his lawyer Sophie Battai points out, he was questioned solely as a witness and there is no indication that charges are being prepared against him.

But if that were to happen - if he were "placed under judicial investigation" in the affair - his career on the French team could be in jeopardy.

As the sports minister Rama Yade said on national radio on Friday: "The French football shirt is sacred. It cannot be worn by someone who is under judicial investigation." "
~ BBC: Escort girl claims cast cloud over French football

Prostitutes now prey on unsuspecting helpless men.
As with rape-victims, who aren't really victims at all, but were really asking for it since it is evident that rapist can't control their hormones.

Hrmph.

All I have to offer is thick black silence. You could cut it with a knife.

I can afford to be upright, so I should be humble in doing so.

Precious.

Perhaps contentment is like being in perfect balance, treading the balance beam without spilling over.

Come on try a little. Nothing is forever, there's got to be something better than in the middle. But me & Cinderella, We put it all together and we can drive it home with one headlight. 

But in the middle is where I choose to be, because that's where I landed after the fall out and I haven't found the wherewithal to move. But then again, I'm not sure if I'd rather be on one side or another. I'm afraid of moving in either direction but I'm pretty sure I'll end up somewhere. And that it will be good. 

I think I need some quiet time.

We are never free from where we came from. This is what makes me. really?

Swish swish swish.

Everything has been worth it. :)

Postsecret.com

I was thinking today, on the bus of course, of how difficult times in life make you smaller then you were before, they take a lot out of you. Not always a bad thing as it forces you to be economical and efficient when it comes to who you are. So in conclusion, I just don't have time for this.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
 therefore, we are saved by faith.
 Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.

-- Reinhold Niebuhr

This is my favorite day in Holy Week, this Saturday, this unrestful Sabbath, my favorite day in the whole of the liturgical calendar.

Well, actually, "favorite" is the wrong word. It's not that I like this day so much as that I understand it. It's recognizable, familiar, lived-in.

This day, the Saturday that can't know if there will ever be a Sunday, is the day we live in, you and I, today and every day for the whole of our lives. This is all we are given to know.

Easter Sunday? That's tomorrow, the day after today. We'll never get there in time. We can believe in Easter Sunday, but we can't be sure. We can't know for sure. We can't know until we're out of time.

Here, in time, there's just this day, this dreadful Saturday of not knowing.

There are some things we can know on this Saturday. Jesus is dead, to begin with, dead and buried. He said the world was upside-down and needed a revolution to turn it right-way-round and so he was executed for disturbing the peace. He came and said love was greater than power, and so power killed him.

And now it's Saturday and Jesus is dead and we're all going to die and everything I've told you about him turns out to be in vain and everything I've staked my life on turns out to be in vain. Our faith is futile and we're still hopeless in our sins. Jesus is dead and we are of all people most to be pitied.

That last paragraph is a paraphrase from St. Paul. What he actually says there, in his letter to the Christians in Corinth, is "if ..." What he says, specifically, is:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. ... If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead ...

But that's Sunday language and Sunday certainty and it doesn't make much sense here on Saturday. Here on Saturday, we can hope it's true and we may even try to believe it's true, but we can't know "in fact" one way or another. Not now. Not on Saturday.

And to be honest, it doesn't seem terribly likely, because Saturday, this Saturday, is all we've ever known. Yesterday was this same Saturday, and so was the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.

Why should we expect that tomorrow will be any different?

Seriously, just look around. Does it look like the meek are inheriting the earth? Does it look like those who hunger and thirst for justice are being filled? Does it look like the merciful are being shown mercy?

Jesus was meek and merciful and hungry for justice and look where that got him. They killed him. We killed him. Power won.

That's what this everyday Saturday shows us -- power always wins. "If you want a picture of the future," George Orwell wrote, "imagine a boot stomping on a human face -- forever."

"But in fact," St. Paul says, the game changes on Sunday. Come Sunday power loses. Come Sunday, love wins, the meek shall inherit, the merciful will receive mercy and no one will ever go hungry for justice again. Come Sunday, everything changes.

If there ever is a Sunday.

And but so, this is why we hope for Sunday and why we live for the hope of Sunday. Even though we can't know for sure that Sunday will ever come and even if Saturday is all we ever get to see.

By Fred Clark

Today, I can finally scratch off "singing in a bar" from my list of things to do before I die. :)

I've learnt that I need not apologize. I have also learnt to say no, not just to people or requests, but to the lessons that I have been taught in the past. Some things just shouldn't be swallowed.

I find it difficult to write about contentment. Because its a pleasant state of... just being. A subtle nirvana, that right now frames my existence. One step at a time. I get the sense that God takes care of me, even when I won't do it myself.

People find (and I do too sometimes) it funny when it becomes apparent that I have come full circle: Back to law in Singapore after having given up an opportunity to do law at NUS 7 years ago. It wasn't a circle, I don't think. More of a spiral upward and I'm sitting a higher than where I'd have been if I had stayed, because this isn't just something that I followed, it's something I choose, and that makes it all the more meaningful. 

Jarrett says, and I concur:  "Better happy than having an identity crisis"

Stay in Singapore, they tell me.

Am I a bigot? I have issues with religion spreading ignorance and bondage in the name of faith.

Oh so trashy.

Well, everyone has to fight the darkness sometimes.

Wild horses couldn't drag me away.

I have all these... these little snippets in my mind that I want to put here but they never materialize. Bogge suspects I have found contentment and balance. ha.

Whether Grace left Dogville or, on the contrary, Dogville had left her and the world in general, is a question of a more artful nature that few would benefit from by asking, and even fewer by providing an answer...

Bygones are bygones. But I do note with a slight sense of pity that the reason why I am no longer angry has much to do with the fact that I no longer have any respect for him. Being angry harbours a sense of expectation, that the other person had a set of standards that he was expected to live up to. Anger ensues from having that failed. In his case, that has definitely been the case. I do not think that he has the emotional depth or maturity to adequately make any of this right again. So, what's the point of anger? 

I think the biggest hurt now (as hurt keeps evolving) isn't so much what was done to me, but is more  of the fact that the person I respected for wisdom, thought the world of, and stood in awe of for emotional depth, is little more then a sham. I'm embarrassed for myself for having had so much regard for a very small man.

It is perhaps as if Grace decided that Dogville was not worth her time or effort because she did not think them worthy or capable of her moral standards. I certainly don't.


.... And nor indeed will it be answered here!

International, and even regional governments, are not meaningful substitutes for strong national governments. Their primary goal should be to facilitate agreements, especially in transboundary issues (environmental, trade, immigration etc) and not governance.

Only with strong national governments will the rhetoric properly shift from infringements of sovereignty, to pooling of sovereignty.

I am very hopeful. As I always have been.

PRINCESS!!

Princess loves cuddles. 

I miss writing and singing and playing music.

I need to re-calibrate myself.

If the Meatloaf test is the criteria to meet, what is the remedy for a breach?

1.5 hours in public transport. I really need to move to Singapore. Fuck this shit.

I feel as if I cannot help it, that my future is rushing in toward me. In a funny way, I feel as if I had a hand in all of it, and yet, I didn't.

I shouldn't be in defensive mode, so I shouldn't need to react.

Especially if it's to the past. 

Little victories along the way. That's what I need to keep going!

In Context

Life, as it is and as it is supposed to be.

I have been so busy guarding myself against what I should not be, that I forgot to explore what I already was. :)

The issue with drama isn't the colours, the flamboyancy, or the sheer expanse of the situation. The issue lies in the suspension of disbelief, in the impenetrable fourth wall which separates reality from fiction. Hence then, a life of drama is a life unreal and understood only in theory. Maybe if I didn't take the moments so seriously, they wouldn't seem so absurd and out of reach.

At the very least, I feel that I have established some sort of internal dispute resolution mechanism: It involves quietness, patience and an appropriate amount of time enough to ascertain the source and hence solution to whatever is driving me crazy. Rest is good - rest and reflection.

Also, I have found some way to categorize how my good-will should fall and I guess intentions do matter in these things. Thanks for the freebies and the positive externalities, but if we don't get to where we started out intending to me, then I'm sorry.

I realize that I am not the same person that you met in August. That's a wonderful thing, and its mostly thanks to you.

I left both my children.
I abandoned them.
They say it's the worst thing a mother can do.

It would be wonderful to say you regret it. It would be easy... But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bare. There it is...no one is going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life. 

Dear Leonard... to look life in the face, always... to look life in the face... and to know it... for what it is... at last to know it... to love it... for what it is... and then... to put it away. Leonard... always the years between us... always the years... always the love... always the hours...

~ The Hours

I told SL that I was perhaps afraid of what comes next as I hadn't really conquered much of life yet. And then I stopped myself and remembered all that has happened in the last year and how well I have healed. "Surprisingly few scars" as JP once said. I don't really think about all that has happened, but I will raise it to myself from time to time as a reminder of how effective I can be in getting through life. At least, till I find a job. :) 

I also realise that just going through a difficult time doesn't automatically translate to victory and conquering it.


And in pictures:

 

I am very content. :)

Last night, I came home to Alex, my brother's new hamster.

Tres adorable! I want to cuddle!

You sound distraught...

~Bogge

It's nice to know who you can count on!

I asked my question carefully. It could not be something that I was too scared to know the truth of, or that might be affected by the answer. I would not ask about JP, or about anything concrete that might shake my trust in what I'm doing. I'm odd like that. I generally never consent to having my future read, not really out of religious reasons but more because I know that the answer will sway my confidence and that is not something I can afford. Besides, I am free from such stuff.

She pulls out three cards and over dinner gives me a pretty accurate description of my situation. JP's next to me chatting with someone about a conference in Japan, I guess it's not going to get any easier. But that's ok.

Oh PLEASE make this work!

I want to shower you with so much affection and attention that no other man would come close...

I knew that he'd lose and would be incapable of matching up to, well, my life. I just never anticipated anything so sweet and dangerous as the life I'm living now. Thank you. 

How most days are feeling:



:)

The message I've been getting over the past couple of weeks has been that of temporariness, phases and flux. Things change, relationships evolve and hearts turn. What was meaningful yesterday will not be tomorrow, and that calls for a brave march in a new direction. Of course somethings will always and should always stay with you - relationships, love and truth, strength and honour. 

This too shall pass, and we will be none the worse for it. 

It's also time to reverse some changes made under less-than-perfect circumstances. It's nice to know that one can almost always go back, but not quite.

In a seeming contradiction, I have found that by being concerned about myself, I can care for others more. Why didn't they teach me this when I was younger?

Conversations with me.

Do you trust in God? 

... not really....

Hrm. Well, He won't punish you for that, you know. He's not that kind of god.

Well, at least one of me makes sense.

Alright, I will admit (and it is perhaps no secret) that a part of me is jealous of the sense of rootedness and certainty older generations had. Even if you moved overseas for whatever, the sense of who you were and where you belonged remained entrenched in you. Today, societies are fluid. Especially societies like Singapore. So even if this were entrenched, it's not as solid a concept as it was 20 years ago. With that comes security - not just in where you belonged but in who you are.

I guess I'm whining about being afraid of the next step, of the violence that that excessive choice brings on our very basic need for relational security and identity. But it's part of the world that we/I live in now and whining about it does no good. People tell me that the solution is to have your identity rooted in God. Sadly, I have met few people who lie in the intersection between social fluidity and "rootedness in God". Cultural affinities infusing into a particular church context generally account for a large chunk of the sense of rootedness. And even if not, a sense of global church culture permeates the religion all around, making it a sense of home. I'm not comfortable with that, for several reasons.

It's not a bad thing, really. And no, I do not regret giving up my Singaporean Citizenship. It's not so simple. It's just a trade-off that I wasn't aware I was making, but I'm strong enough to live with it.

I feel like I need to lie face-down in the earth for a while, until I find my feet. Or, more accurately, until I have the guts to find my feet.

*stress*

dear god, please please please please please!!!!

So she was skimpily dressed. Did she deserve to be molested? 

Being drunk (as a male and thus being excused from disrespectful behaviour) in itself is not a good enough excuse, especially if one voluntarily gets himself drunk with the knowledge that he might commit such acts. Perhaps it does mitigate the act to a certain degree, but it in no way absolves responsibility.

I do not think that a woman ever "deserves it" or "was asking for it". Unless she fully and unreservedly gives VERBAL consent, no man can claim that she had it coming. It is the responsibility of the man to ensure that she has given him full consent, and not the other way round where he 'assumes' that she wants it until she says 'no'. Simple reason: it's HER body, and he has no right to it unless she gives him permission.

Intoxication vitiates consent.

Therefore, it is not the responsibility or the fault of a woman that a man treats her badly, regardless of her dressing or behaviour. It might be tasteless and unbecoming but that does not warrant unwelcome physical contact. Women need to take responsibility - they need to claim ownership of their bodies, develop self-respect, respect men as creatures of sufficient mental capacity to make proper choices, and not tolerate such behaviour.

I think that the issue is that society tends to confuse guilt with foolishness. It is not a crime to be dumb, as it is not a crime to walk down a deserted back alley at night carrying a bag full of cash. It is a crime to mug, and the mugger can't say : "Oh well she happened to be there with a whole wad of cash" and expect to be let off. We need to address both issues: women need to smarten up and develop self-respect and violators need to be punished.

It more of an issue of respect for women and their bodies - we want to live in a world where women do not need to take the extra precaution to put themselves out of harm's way because the harm does not exist. It's like hoping to live in a world where the colour of your skin does not matter and does not fix you in a particular social class. It still does, but there is ample social awareness and effort taken to lessen the effects.

The gender issue is systemic and institutional, and social attitudes can change for the better. The burden on women to "keep themselves out of harm's way", while necessary for now, is not something that we should hope to keep.

Again, we need to work through both avenues, and women, really really need to learn to respect themselves and to take ownership of their own bodies: To be responsible for them, and to enjoy them.

Off post-secret:

"I knew things were changing when my Fraternity Brothers threw a guy out of the house for making fun of me for being gay."

I love little victories of goodness. 

When it all comes crashing down and I'm broken again, you can say "I told you so". It's ok and I won't hold it against you, because I've stopped listening to what you have to say.

I am proud to say that I've done my best. I am at peace and the only frustration I feel is that of entrapment.

Boomz

Because for all the times I've ignored myself, I turned out to be right. Carrying myself is burden enough and I am enjoying not listening anymore. Sorry.

Wise enough to carry the scars, without any blame...

So whose fault was it? Why? Was it my stupidity, my naivete? My sheltered upbringing? The Church? It's nice to know that these things don't matter as much as growing wiser and stronger.

... there's no one to blame

These days I struggle still to be whole, unified and one. I'm not sure if this was something that I ever was, truly, or if I ever need to be. But at least, I am looking to be happy with myself and I think that's all that one can ask for. Afterall, there's only me to live with here.

"Surprisingly few scars"

Only because I have had the support of wonderful friends and family.

Be it Singapore or Vancouver, I return to each home to remember who I am.

It is good to be home, even if I don't know when I'm coming back and I'm only here for 4 days. I just hope I do what I need to do.

I figure that courage, like forgiveness and grace, is a choice. It is also a grave affirmation of truth and love in the present, instead of a fear of an unknown future.