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!

www.nationstates.net

The Holy Empire of Nanaism.

Find me.

Affirmative

It is sad that in the days when life must be most beautiful, I am not alive to experience the full extent of it. Curtis says that the slump is the direct result of chugging down 6 weeks of academic absinthe. All that hard work and density is killing me.

As Sarah notes, for me to be unconcerned about the fact that I might get 4 'D's on my transcript (for chinese, of course) and to be nonchalent about the mis-reading of my I/R Theory midterm, would be symptomatic of my weariness of school. Dang it. Graduate already.

But what all this leads me to is just a general sense of boredom and superficiality in my life. I am becoming plastic (although I'm sure there are people out there who would say that I have always been). I talk but I don't communicate. I talk out of habit, these are the things I talk about, these are the things I say, these are the things I do, these are the things that constitute the reflection of my identity to the world.

So more then anything else, I think this is taking a hit on my identity and as a result, my social interaction. Go on, tell me something I haven't heard before, give me a new paradigm. Even if you succeed, I probably won't have the energy to really care or engage in it. I look around and wonder why people care about half the things they care about. I look at myself and wonder the same thing.

I also have issues with difference. I remember telling Sarah once last year about have I have trouble seeing why people see things the way they do. She, in her bountiful grace, reassures me that this is just a by-product of careful deliberation and actualization of morality on issues that I encounter. But that's besides the point. I simply don't understand why people function the way they do sometimes. Not that I don't see their point of view, or see where their coming from, or see how they came about with various conclusions, or sympathize, or empathize, or excuse them... yet looking at all this and all that, and none of it makes sense to my little mind. I feel like I'm standing in a relational black hole. I want everything and everything gravitates towards me andfinallyendsupcrashinginonmeandcollaspingundertheweightofeverything.

Breathe.

So... I don't understand, I can't seem to be real, and I am bothered by it so I can't say that I don't care. But... yeah.... huh.... Talk to me now about anything existential and I'd rather be a chimpanzee.

la fee verte.
Here.

ROOM FOR RENT

So Greg's decided to move out with Vlad, that leaves the 4 of us bereft without the man and the bird. Initially I was sent into a state of panic. I remember my immaterial self pounding failing fists onto the hardwood floor bemoaning the loss of the very comfortable status quo. Of course, victorious powers never seek change. But over dishes, I felt the Holy Spirit chide me. Just like He did the time I fought with Seth.

Why do you not trust me? I'm just frigging scared. I gave you this house didn't I? Yeah but you're unpredictable. I provided for you according to my riches in glory...

Taking to heart (and soul) Elim's words of encouragement, that she finds that when a roommate moves out, that is only God ensuring that the right person moves in.

So while we gingerly await phone calls and email's, I now bask in the providence of God.


Where I live


She I live with


Rhythm...


... and blues


Now here's an interesting chap.

So here's where I live. I never really got round to sharing this with people in singapore but well.. here we are.

Oh and for people in Canada, the room for rent is the one in which Andre is uh... advertising for.

"I wish I were Asian..."
~ Tony. After watching Hero.

So I have embarked on a little self-imposed immersion programme. I will watch Chinese movies, talk to chinese people and even take notes in Chinese.

After tonight's viewing, I realise how far away from reconcilation I am with the language and culture. Perhaps the fact that I am so enchanted by this romanticized imitation of "The Chinese" is telling of my breach with the Chinese Reality. Of anything real, that's chinese. Of anything Chinese, that's real.

"Yeah... I wish I were Asian too"
~ Me

Ten thousand years of Chinese history just died at me.

"Hannah... I think you're Asian"
~ Tony, an offer of encouragement.

Well, if God's in the process of restoration, I think I can emulate that.
Or at least die trying.
The Chinese way.

I finally feel like I'm at a place when I can start to give. The past 20 odds years have been a time of feeding, absorbing and learning. Not that that has, or should change, but I suddenly find myself in a position to feed to teach and to allow another to soak up what I have to offer. It isn't much but by the grace of God, it will be life-giving. I'm getting pretty stoked about this concept of spiritual multiplication.

----------------

In other news...

Shu and I had a hard-core wrestling match with Tony today. N'sync blasting like nobody's business, furniture pressed against the walls for fear of slipping into the line of fire, and cushions, bodies and breath flying around the room as shu and I fight(and succeed) to slam Tony to the ground.

He totally let us win.

I finally feel like I'm at a place when I can start to give. The past 20 odds years have been a time of feeding, absorbing and learning. Not that that has, or should change, but I suddenly find myself in a position to feed to teach and to allow another to soak up what I have to offer. It isn't much but by the grace of God, it will be life-giving. I'm getting pretty stoked about this concept of spiritual multiplication.

----------------

In other news...

Shu and I had a hard-core wrestling match with Tony today. N'sync blasting like nobody's business, furniture pressed against the walls for fear of slipping into the line of fire, and cushions, bodies and breath flying around the room as shu and I fight(and succeed) to slam Tony to the ground.

He totally let us win.