Mnemosyne

St. Ann's Roman Catholic Church

It's right across the street from our house!

I got to Wildwood last night, at around 11. Checked in with Joy - into a double room, then moved to a 4 person room because Shireen would be joining us the next day. This room's much better. It's bigger, more spacious, nearer the toilet and it has a balcony!

We went out with Kenneth, Kokming and Nafiur to buy some stuff from Wawa, the 24-hr convenient store. Ain't exactly the safest place to be in the middle of the night, Wildwood. Saw 2 guys nearly getting into a fight cos one of them rode his bicycle into the other. Kokming got a little hassled by this burly guy at 7-11. Thank goodness he handled it well. No, not thank goodness, thank God. Thank God for keeping each of us safe.

On the way back, I noticed the building opposite our house. Looked like a church. But it was kinda late, and I was freezing my butt off, so I decided to check it out the next day.

Turns out, it's St Ann's R.C. Church! A really nice building made o sun-coloured bricks! It's got a history too, being completely burnt down on a Friday, the 13th of December, 1929, then rebuilt to be what it is today.It's amazing how I will be living right next to it for the next 3 months! It's great cos there's daily Mass at 7am and 9am.

I actually checked out the place with Joy after we went grocery shopping after lunch. After looking around, we just sat there. I prayed a while, and Joy said that she found tthe church amazingly peaceful, and that she enjoyed just sitting there. There wasn't a priest around.

So. Shireen's coming over tonight! Yay! We can go find out about the church activities and all. It looks pretty vibrant from the bulletin. Lots of meetings, courses and such.

Things are looking great.

In Transit

I'm in transit at Seoul! Using the free wireless connection at Incheon International Airport. I'm tired, but it's pretty cool here. All the stewardesses have this cute ribbon-bent-into-a-funny-shape-thing in their hair. And fantastic complexion. Should try eating KImchi more.

Things here are really high tech. Everything seems to talk. Seriously. The travellator talks to you. The entrance points talk. You can hear so many automated voices at once! And the toilet... has an etiquette bell. I was so tempted to push it, but figured, better not, I might get some Auntie yelling at me in Korean.

Anyway. Thanks all who came to see me off! It really meant alot to me. Going to miss you all so much. And Dad, Mom and Leon. Love you all.

Got another 10 hour or so flight in a bit. Really need to catch up on sleep!

Going to get a separate blog for Shireen and myself to tell you all about our adventures in the Wildwoods... will post the address up soon. =)

Full Circle

This tapestry of love,
I see the threads before me;
Unclear of what they mean,
Yet, awaiting its beauty.

Time - as it passes,
Reveals the glorious colours;
Simply spun, yet precise in its place,
Patience - in the seconds, minutes and hours.

And as the heavens unveil your glory,
I see it in the littlest thing;
The love you have blessed me with,
In my little heart I sing.

Unmoving, unwavering -
Transcending all thought and deed;
Surpassing the tides of change,
You fulfill my every need.

You paint my life on your canvass,
In time it all comes full circle;
A picture no one else can see,
But you do it all - for me!

No Wonder

Today was one of those days where I really just COULD NOT seem to get out of bed.

3.30pm, and I was still under the covers, while of course comforting myself with the fact that I WAS reading my notes, albeit horizontally.

But the rain this afternoon was just lovely. I'm addicted to the smell of rain. That's not good, I'm told... cos it's the smell of some chemical or something.

I was at Grace's place last night, going through her NZ clothes, to borrow some jackets for my trip. Really cool, all the trench coats, thick woolly jackets, boots... but of course I didn't need such thick stuff, so just borrowed a few sweaters.

Anyway, I saw this stuck up on her fridge:
Lord, if you don't make me skinny, then at least make my friends fat.

Sheesh. No wonder lar.

Libraries

So it's the exams. Naturally, this means more time spent in the library. The past week was alright... had a few things to do here and there, but ultimately spent a large percentage of the time hitting the books.

This semester, my main abode has been either Central Lbrary or the Biz Lib; Central when I'm lazy to walk, need the multi-media viewing gallery, or the RBR; and Biz when I want a really, and I mean REALLY want a quiet place to study, heh.

I should try out the other libraries some time. I've been to the science library, when I was doing that horrifying linear algebra module; Medicine library to conduct surveys; and Law library to well, check out cute guys. Are there any other libraries in NUS?

You know that whole thing about how SNAILS (Students Not Actually In Law) should not go study in the Law library, blah blah... it's starting to get so funny. A friend sent this site to me... and I've got no idea if it's for real or not. But it's hilarious anyway.

Ugh, first paper's on Monday - History of Film. I've been watching films till my eyes are almost popping out of its sockets, and I'm still not done. At least I get to watch X-Men. Not that exciting, you might say... but seriously, compared to the other black and white films (that are either silent, or in French, German, Italian or Russian), I'm almost willing to pay $9.50 to watch it.

Still, it is one of my more interesting modules, so no complaining. Feels kinda nice to be watching a film - albeit how dreadfully boring - when others are poring over words, words and more words, or numbers, numbers and more numbers. =p

No Song, No Blog

I was telling myself the entire day that once I manage to complete my midi composition for my Science of Music module, I'd blog about it - either how abosolutely etheral (yeah right) or painfully ridiculous (more likely) it sounds.

But.

I haven't done it. I spent the entire afternoon trying to download other programmes like Jammin32 something, or easy composer something or other... but to no avail. The damn melody assistant which i actually enjoyed using is gonna cost me USD20 just to convert the file to midi format, and that's just plain dumb. Guess Anvil studio's gonna have to work for me.

I digress.

I'm blogging cos Melly said she's running out of things to read. You better be flattered girl! Haha kidding. I just can't stand looking at the Anvil page.

Anyway. We had a beautiful outdoor Stations of the Cross this evening. It was pretty interesting - this time around the alter servers did a mini re-enactment of the carrying of the cross, nailing to the cross, etc. And one of them actually played Jesus. In the background, scenes of The Passion, and the angelic voices of the choir just made the night so solemnly beautiful; a great way to reflect on what our Lord went through for us. I especially liked the responsorial that went
"Shepherd Me O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life."

After that we went to help out with the decor for this Sunday's Easter games, and I just got back from supper at Chomps. No car, so I walked home. I realised I haven't done that in a while... since everyone started getting our driving licences. I really enjoyed walking up though. The night breeze, the ability to just walk and get lost in one's own thoughts. Or the times where I walked up with people, like Shireen Marcus Josh... and just have really nice conversations. Thank you for those times.

On the way up, I saw a snail mourning for his squished other half. It looked really sad. Euurgh. I just hate the sound that is made by a snail crushed under a shoe.

Ok that was a lil' random.

Oh but looking at the snail reminded me of the times Leon and I used to play at Greg's place. The playground area was just full of snails, and there was once we saw a bunch of EVIL kids putting snails into a pit and sprinking salt onto them, watching them squirm. And how we'd call ourselves the "Law Enforcers", grab all of Greg's guns and swords and weapons, and go order all the other kids in the playground around... So fun. They were seriously terrified of us. Or maybe they found it fun being ordered around. Hmmm. Who knows.

Anyway it's been a fun week. Holy Week. Trying to make it a point to spend some time in adoration every night till Maundy Thursday... I realise how much we sometimes need to just spend some quiet time with our Lord. Puts the entire day into perspective. Recalling the little things of the day to be thankful for.

A ton of stooooopid things happened as well - from trying to get free parking but failing, to leaving the wallet in the car when the car went for servicing, to idiotic cab drivers. Shan't elaborate - for my own dignity's sake. But still, it was funny... and things like these do make life more fascinating. Fascinatingly hilarious. =)

The week also marked the end of the onslaught of deadlines. Yippee.

Also means the official no-excuse-for-not-starting-revision period. Sheesh.

Talk don't Type!

I heard on the radio today that some university lecturer is making his students SMS questions to him. While in class. Strange eh. Considering how most lecturers I know just hate it when students start fiddling with their phones in class.

But honestly. Isn't that taking the whole SMS and IM thing just a tad too far? It got me thinking.

I mean, I know (and I am guilty too) about the whole convenience about "talking" with our fingers. I know that I am a dead give-away when it comes to facial expressions, so the semi-anonymity that comes along with messaging is just great. Couple that with the fact that written words may have hidden meanings (or lack thereof)... and there you have it - wonderfully crafted conversations that lack responsibilty and accountability.

Alright, I admit that this is viewing things a little too negatively on my part. There are of course instances and situations where such messages are great, where you can look at them at smile. But lately, I have to say that some MSN messages that come through the computer, and SMSes that come through my phone, simply irk me.

And more often than not, for no valid reason, which I'd find out later.

See, it just causes unnecessary stress, worry and irritance. A simple 5 minute conversation on the phone speaks with far greater volume. And accounts for far more.

And YOU! I'll deal with you later. Some time this week. When I feel I have enough patience to talk to you without blowing up.

As Precise as it Gets

Everyone's been saying how precise God is. And at Mass today, I really could attest to this.

It was a really good weekend. I had a good talk with a friend, with whom my friendship with had taken some tumbles in the past, and somehow we never got the chance to reconcile with each other. Over time, a subconscious barrier had been created between us, something which we had not even realised at times.

Somehow, God, being the same Ol' trustworthy and amazing lad that He always is, directed us in the path of reconciliation this Lent. I really thank and praise Him for giving me the grace to break down all that horrid pride. And back to Mass today... Father's preaching was all about healing broken relationships! When He started to speak about it, I was in such awe that that funny strange feeling of hotness spread across me.

From today's first reading:

"Thus says the LORD:
Lo, I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;
The things of the past shall not be remembered
or come to mind.
Instead, there shall always be rejoicing and happiness
in what I create."

On another note, I was chatting with a friend about this quote by Virginia Woolf: "Someone has to die that the rest of us should value life more." Is it true that something bad has to happen before one starts to value life, or search for something more in life?

I looked at the quote again. You know what, someone did die. For us. So do we value life more now?

And how do we choose to live ours?

French New Wave

My film lecture the other day was on the French New Wave. A line from the film "Diary of a County Priest":

"The desire to pray is prayer enough for God."

Terror in the PS Lounge!

Did my presentation for International Security today and it was so much fun!

We had to come up with a scenario planning exercise. My group, decided to plan a Sarin Gas attack on the MRT lines in Singapore. Ok, hang on, I'm starting to get afraid of posting this here, so I better make a disclaimer: It was JUST a tutorial exercise, no real making of the gas or such.

Anyway, I got to play the role of the terrorist! It was quite strange, like I was presenting my idea of how to attack to my fellow terrorists or something. But while it was funny, it occured to me that there were people out there who are doing this, who have in fact done it before (like those who executed the Sarin Gas attack on the Tokyo subway in 1995). Really freaky. I mean, how do they acually plan the deaths of so many people? What in the world goes on inside of their heads?

Then Daryl presented the perspective of the Security agency in Singapore, and Ian covered the social and political consequences. I think we did ok, and I actually liked this tutorial. Makes me realise how much there is going on in the world, and be thankful for the peace we enjoy.

He Really Knows

I woke up early at 6 this morning to finish that darn Film Noir proposal that was due at noon today. So I wrote a couple of paragraphs, and crashed again at about 8. And suddenly it was 10 and I had to take a cab to school.

Was feeling a bit down today because of something I got to know from a friend on msn. Sometimes I feel these instant messaging things are terrible cos it's so easy to hide the real truth. And you leave the conversation feeling unsatisfied, disgruntled and just plain uneasy.

So there I was trying to rush my proposal in school, and just feeling a bit heavy-hearted the entire day... not wanting to join the nus gang studying at biz, in fact, not feeling like talking to anyone much. Then Seetoh came and joined us for mass!

Mass was really good for me. Father's sermon just hit where I needed it. How to focus on prayer and stop thinking about things that trouble us, that cause us much anxiety. After that I even had to guts to share with Seetoh a little about what happened earlier, and how the mass helped me. It was simply amazing.

And somehow, afterthat, the day got so much brighter! We all went for dinner at Ikea, ordered ALOT of food, and laughed at the silly things Seetoh, Ong and I did in VJ. It was such a stark contrast from earlier that day that I was just really really happy.

Speaking of VJ days. I know I sometimes bitch and all about the time I had there being horrid, being too pressurizing, etc. But really, there were so many moments of fun and insanity. And I'm thankful for them.

=)

I'm Freaked

That globalisation module is giving me a headache.

First Dr. R tells us that we don't have to do the normal 2500 word research paper. Then he decides he's not all that normal, and makes us do a 5000 word travel log instead.

We all thought he was pushing the limit when he screened "Shutter", that Thai horror movie about the spirits appearing in the photographs, till today's tutorial. He pretty much said, to hell with the essay and travel log. New assignment? To get into groups of three and stake out a notoriously haunted place in Singapore with our cameras. And then write an 8-page group report on it.

Class today was funny. Then again, it always is. We basically just spent an hour talking about supernatural experiences (Dr R: "Ooooh, shall we turn off the lights?") and then some smokey stuff about how globalisation can extend to the netherworld as well.

But I digress. Back to thoughts about that assignment. I really don't want to do it! I mean, it's not just a run-there-take-one-picture-and-run-away situation, but to actually go down there on three different nights. I just don't want to put myself in a situation that I may regret for life.

But I totally felt the pressure when my friends were discussing it, all excited, despite the fact that I still had the option of doing the travel log. I guess they all kinda expected me to agree to going... and I just felt like a wet blanket telling them that I wanted to think about it first. Going to places like Choa Chu Kang cemetary, Old Changi Hospital, Punggol House... ack. Not exactly my cuppa tea. Especially not something I'd agree to doing instantly. Worse still, dear Dr. R had to point at me, and say, "This one must go! Must bring the scaredy ones." Sheesh. So I shared this with some Christian friends. And the response was unanimous that no, I shouldn't go.

Am I being superstitious? Or paranoid? Or standing up for what I believe in - and when I say this I'm not even sure if it's a religion thing or a values thing or a I'm-Chicken thing.

Ok, let's say it's a religion thing. Then I must have had affimation not to go when during Mass, Fr. spoke about us staying true to what we believe in, and if we were to be like Christ, we'd have to take on His attitudes and thinking as well. But then there's that other argument a Christian brought up in class, that for those who had faith, they'd not be vulnerable to such things. So why am I afraid? Argggh.

Anyway. I've pretty much made the decision not to go.

And I want to read up about Friedrich Nietzsche. He's this German Philosopher who believes in God, but that God died. Fascinating.

Mosaic!

Did the father-daughter bonding thing last night over some incredible Brazilian Jazz music! It was really awesome! Featuring the 7-Grammy award winning Paquito D'Rivera on the sax and clarinet, the performance was perfect!

It opened with local acapella group Vocaluptous. Initially, I was a little impatient cos I just really wanted to watch Paquito. But Vocaluptous turned out to be pretty good too! I especially liked the guy who was making all the percussion sounds... way cool.

Anyway. Paquito had this amazing stage presence and charisma. And when he picked up the sax or clarinet... WHOA. The audience was just blown away. The New York Voices performed alongside him. They're a really cool singing group... loved it when they were scatting along to the awesome latin-based, bebop, samba beats. Amazing things some people can do with their vocals. One of the best parts was when Paquito told the audience to sing along "la la la...", while the band continued playing. It was fantastic! Great audience!

Paquito's band was really good too. The pianist was totally funky. From where we were sitting, we couldn't exactly see his hands... and unlike the other members of the band who were groovin' along to the music, he sat there, ram-rod straight. It looked like he wasn't even playing! But the music he churned out was terrific! I especially liked it when he fused some baroque composition into this Jazzy song.

I'm totally psyched to take up some Jazz improvisaton piano course. Plus my dad reminded me yesterday that I've got music in my blood, thanks to my Grandpa who apparently could play the sax really well =). Now I've got to give it a go!

The Mosaic Music Fest is superb. Hopefully it becomes a yearly event or something here in Singapore. The atmosphere at the Esplanade was just sizzling over the weekend, with live performances at The Living Room, as well as the outdoor amphitheatre. The music just never seemed to stop!

Reflections

Ok on a different note, I just came back from our usual monday night hang outs with the NUS gang.

Something's been bugging me quite a bit. I guess about a week ago, someone said this to me... that "Christianity is always gray," in the sense that there is no stark black or white. It didn't occur to me before, but today I'm just so sure that Christianity is totally NOT gray. It is in fact, black or white, an absolute yes or no, a definite rejection or acceptance.

Bro. Fritz spoke about it yesterday during the mini-retreat. And today in school, a gazillion people were handing out this little magazine thingy about the Da Vinci Code. It was quite an interesting read; alot of it covered issues about the book, whether there were any truths in the fiction, yada yada. Usual stuff. But there was this certain article that talked about whether Jesus was truly divine, or whether he was simply a mad man claiming to be God. The last paragraph went this way:
"You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is the Son of God; or else a mad man or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool; you can spit on Him and kill HIm as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come up with any patronising nonsense about Him being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

That's the nature of the truth isn't it? No more half-truths, half-lies, ambiguity, gray-areas. What is true is true. What is not is not. And one can always choose which to accept, which to reject. Of course, therein lies the issue of Trust, of Faith.

I really wouldn't want to believe in something that was gray. It's just not enough for me. I mean, gray has so many shades... that I think I'd just get totally confused and drown in that sea of hues.

I think Christianity is like light. It's either there or not. Yes, one may argue that there can be different brightness, different dimness of light. But ultimately, if even the tiniest flicker of light exists, one can see. Once that little flicker is gone, that just leaves us with absolute darkness.

As I was typing all this, a friend messages me: "Do you get offended when I use the F-word?"

I replied that I don't.

The conversation went on and evolved into one about making choices. Yeah, I know life ain't all that easy and I do curse alot too, albeit under my breath (Ok, sometimes maybe not)... but I'm sure that if one makes a conscious choice, one can overcome it.

"Why is cursing even a bad thing? It's better to vent one's frustration using these words, rather than doing something worse."

Ok, I was completely stuck as to what to reply. I mean, true, I've always felt, a word is but a word... "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Then something occured to me - that this was already an example of the grayness of everyday life; the whole concept of relativism.

It struck me as to how wonderful it was for us Catholics to have this one absolute truth, and righteousness.

Rally Rocked

Just got home from supper after the Serangoon Youth District Rally, which was absolutely fantastic - the rally not supper (oh, but supper was great too).

I still can't believe I was actually involved in it. So many different people leading different intercessory prayers prior to the rally kept telling us to think about how we got pulled into the events. And I'm still reeling over the shock that I had a role in it... an acting role no less (You know I really can't act).

I was pulled in at such a last minute that I didn't even have a name tag at the event! I remember how I didn't go for that one initial meeting, so wasn't allocated any ministry... hence the feeling of relief and delight at the thought of being able to slack. Heh.

But somehow God in all His wonders called me to get involved. And I'm really thankful that He did. Everything fell in place tonight. The music story, the praise and worship, the adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, the testimonies... everything. I was especially touched by the testimonies, which I felt reflected many of my own struggles.

Anyway when I got home, the bible was lying on the piano. I picked it up and just flipped... and I saw Psalm 127 staring at me.

If Yahweh does not build a house
in vain do its builders toil.
If Yahweh does not guard a city
in vain does its guard keep watch.
- Psalm 127:1

Yeah God really provides and turns all our efforts into something truly amazing, beyond our own control!

Peace

No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere
For I see Heaven's glories shine
And Faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

- Emily Bronte

Ashes to ashes

So it was Ash wednesday today. Playing for Mass at IJ was fun - Nice to see the girls file in the hall, seeing the teachers nag at them to walk quickly and to make less noise... brings back such memories.

It was kinda weird too, when the teachers were sitting right next to me during mass - the likes of Jo Teo, Mag Low... among others that made such a deep impression in my Secondary school life. I always kinda freeze when Jo Teo speaks to me, cos I remember the time she made some of us stand outside the class for not bringing our Library worksheets - and then later caught us having a mini picnic outside, heheh.

Globalisation class is always hilarious. The lecturer's practically a stand up comedian. Like what the hell, he kept calling me by my chinese name... "I like the name Shu fen... It just sounds so... Shu fen."

After my Globalisation class, some of the PS Disgruntles went for Teh in the canteen. Somehow, we started talking about religion... something I always shunned away from. Being the only one among them who believed in a religion (not just God), I got thrown all sorts of questions. Mich kept asking me to prove that there's a God. Haha, seriously if I could do that, I'd have published a book or something.

That's the thing really. I can't prove God exists. It's all up to faith, as much as many people who're seeking hate that kind of answer. But that's the nature of it isn't it? I mean, if you could prove the existence of God by scientific or rational means then believing wouldn't mean much would it? And God wouldn't be God if His existence could be so easily comprehended.

I really felt challenged when Mich said that she really likes it when people are able to stand up and defend their beliefs. I wished I could do that, but I kinda freaked cos I didn't think I could. It's something that'd been bugging me since before retreat last year and it surfaced again today. I just NEED to know more before I could bring myself to face any such challenges.

Ok ok, trust trust TRUST.

On another note, my study time in school today was pretty much disrupted by "How to make an American Quilt." Ok, what I should have been watching was "Rules of the Game" (which was ACTUALLY part of my module), BUT... this looked WAY nicer. Yes, the movie was touching and stuff... but what really caught my attention was the making of the quilt. I loved how they came up with a title for it , like Where Love Resides, and then made a sort of montage of pictures that meant so much yet things so different to each person sewing, but still all representing that one title. And then that aesthetic part about how all of it could come together in harmony and balance. It's so gorgeous and I could stare at it forever. Ok I'm going to make my own quilt one day.

It Just Fits...

I think it's so beautiful when a person desires to know Him, yearns to believe in Him, and thirsts for His everlasting love.

I think there's an inherent little part in everyone that wants to believe in this perfect, constant love.

I think everyone's in search of this wonderful love.

And when you find it, it all just fits. =)

The Letter

I met up with the IJ girlies for dinner at Grace's place! It's always so nice to meet up with them, re-live old times, remember old gossips, re-tell old ghost stories, re-compare our weights, re-moan about our old teachers, re-... ah, the list goes on.

As I type this, Moli's MSN nick reads: "IJ gatherings always make me feel 16 all over again!" I totally agree. And I just love it!

The coolest thing? Grace took out this box of old letters and notes that we wrote to her... and I found this really funny letter. Ok I guess it probably wasn't that funny then... cos by the sound of it, we must have been quarrelling.

But looking back... the letter was so funny. Like it meant EVERYTHING then - but then again, it probably did. I can just imagine myself in the shoes of my younger self, stressing out about keeping this friendship of mine. Somehow, I think I've changed... I don't know if I'd bother to do something like that today. Pride and stuff would get in the way. Maybe I'd send a short and sweet sms. Or a quick phonecall would do the trick. But that would be it I guess. Kinda sad, if you think about it. Grace, if you read this, thanks for showing me the letter! And you know what, I'd write something like that again in a moment if our friendship was on the line!

PS: Always be kind to all animals, even frogs!

I've been going back to help out with the Catechism classes in IJ lately. It's nice making the weekly trip back (despite the fact that it's at 7am in the morning), seeing the familiar faces, experiencing that incessant chatter of the girls, that I was once a part of. But teaching really ain't the easiest thing for me. Sometimes I wonder why in the world I am doing this, especially at times when the girls are just not listening.

There are the four "Reading Beauties" of the class - non-Catholic girls, who just wanted to sit in, but only paid attention to their story books. When I first noticed them, I was a little irritated... I mean, why sit in when you're not here to learn about the faith?

But then, I've began to see my younger self in them. Back when I was in IJ (both primary and secondary), I always went for Catechism classes, before I was baptised in Sec 3. For the reason that most of my close friends were Catholic, and I wanted to join them. So during the classes, I would happily distract my friends with my chatting, or start reading books, though I'm sure I must have listened in a class or two at least. Well, indeed something did happen over the years of my "attendance"; I got baptised... and here I am back at IJ, teaching Catechism! Truly amazing, the way the Spirit works.

One thing I remember clearly though, was Theresa, a Catholic friend of mine who I have not really kept in touch with. In primary school, when I was not allowed to go for some session that was "strictly for Catholic girls", she said to me: "To me, as long as you believe, you are Catholic already."

A simply line like that from a friend in my younger days has stuck with me since. And I always knew from then that I would be baptised one day. Thanks Theresa, though you'd probably never read this, and you'd probably not even remember what you said. But thank you. =)

I am just so grateful for those ten years of my life spent in IJ.

Comfort

Spending time with You
Helps me feel;
Helps me believe;
Helps me love.

I wonder why I don’t do it more
When you’re always there to embrace me.

The comfort that only you can give,
The words that no one else can speak.

The things I can say to only you and no one else,
The knowledge that you will respond with only love, pure love.

Your punishment may be great,
But your mercy is greater.

I thank you God.

“To acquire knowledge about God is one thing; to commit oneself to Him is another.”

Regret

This is a painting that I started months (or maybe even hit the one year mark) ago. I don't know why, but it's just taken so so SOOOO long to complete. Maybe it's cos of its less than positive title. Or the less than happy thoughts associated with it. Haha, excuses for my plain laziness.

Anyway. Inspiration came from this poem - something I remembered from my secondary school days:

Gather ye roses while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying,
And that same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

- Robert Herrick, 1648
'To The Virgins To Make Much Of Time'

Well the message is, quite obviously, Carpe Diem, that is, Sieze the Day. Things that you've not done in life, opportunities missed; grab them before it's too late. Cliched, but many have said that the saddest words in the world are "if only".

Do you ever feel like you're looking at your life from a third-person point of view? Watching the paths that you take, the obstacles and miracles you come across daily, the risks taken, and chances you missed. This intricate interweaving and connectedness of your life with others; this amazing way time just zooms past you like, well, Taz; the vines, branches, and weeds, that cloud your vision every day; the way one half of you wants to muster up all that energy to gather the damn roses, yet the other half just wants to bask in the sunshine, and, you know,"relak lar."

Well obviously the picture's not complete. And I decided to post it here in it's state of incompletion because a good friend told me once, why not leave it incomplete... contributes to the significance of its meaning - regret. Hmmm. I may one day decide to complete it.

Or then again, maybe not? Well we'll see. =)

Aiyar. I have class tomorrow.

Another makeup class tomorrow - which means another saturday morning not sleeping in. Sheesh.

Last Saturday's class was one of the most embarrassing things ever. Silly Ol' me thought that last week's class was a makeup lecture (not tutorial) so I happily got my lazy ass down to LT14 at 10am. Ah - as fate would have it, the LT was locked with not a soul in sight.

So I call Daryl. He starts laughing hysterically, and tells me that everyone is in AS3... somewhere. Damn. Still, I make my way down to that wretchedly far place, wondering how the entire lecture group can fit into that tiny tutorial room.

I finally get to class, and I sit somewhere in the middle - empty seat next to Mark. Daryl just HAD to be sitting right in front, under the lecturer's nose. And nah, I didn't want to attract that much attention; I was already late. At this point, I start thinking, "Wow, not many people turned up eh."

Then the lecturer starts to take attendance, and I whisper to Mark, "What's wrong with this guy, Lecture also need to take attendance." Mark's eyes widen. "It's not lecture. It's TOOOOTORRREEEEEAAALLL."

"Oh shit," I say. "Then why the hell did I come all the way down here on a Saturday morning?" Mark says, "You mean you're not in this class?"

"NOOOOOO," I mouth. "I better get out now."

"You mean you're just going to walk out?" He says. I look up and the lecturer has already started. I sigh. "Yeah. No choice."

So with the lecturer's head turned, I scramble out, stepping on a few feet and bags on the way out.

I was going to call my Dad to see if he was still around the school when I had an epiphany. I dug into my bag and found my rarely used organiser-file thingy. AH! I had to go for that damn class I just left. Drats.

Ok (deep breath) I opened the door to the classroom again. The seat next to Mark was taken now, and so were almost all the other seats. Except the ones in the front row of course.

I go sit next to Daryl, all the while trying not to die of embarrassment, and my lecturer says, "Are you ok? Why do you keep going in and out?"

"Heh," I mumble. "Thought wrong class. But turns out not wrong." He looks puzzled but goes on with the class. I feel Mark giving me strange looks for the rest of the class. And Daryl trying very hard not to laugh out loud.

I REALLY hope tomorrow's class is a lecture.

I love Buah Keluak.

An Entry - For lack of a better title

What time is it? 9PM.

Where am I? NUS Central Library.

What am I doing? Watching Black and White silent films.

Why am I doing this? Insanity.

What I want? A ride home.

I'm tired and my nose is runny. And I'm wishing things were like in the past where I could just call and ask for dinner/a ride. BUT. Such an interesting day. Though it technically only started when I managed to drag myself out of bed at about 2.

Had my Globalisation tutorial just now. And it's really cool, cos the lecturer decided, in the spur of the moment - to hell with the original essay assignment. How cool is that? To hell with the long hours of going through books in the library, googling and wiki-ing stuff, and banging it out on the last minute. Ok, maybe the last minute thing is still valid. Anyway, he gives us this other assignment, which is to write 5000 words about some place we have travelled to. Sounds way more fun to me. =) That class is really entertaining. I'm not saying it's the most productive or informative class; quite the contrary actually. But the lecturer is so insane. Once, he went round the entire class, and asked ALL the girls what they looked for in a guy. That was like about 30 girls! He was about to go on to the guys when he decided... well, better get on with the lecture.

So that assignment was the topic of conversation during dinner. We started to talk about the places we had travelled to, blah blah. Then Kev and Raj and their friend starts to talk about India. And for the first time in my life, since I got to know them a couple of years ago, I learn that they are soon to be relatives! So enlightening. Apparently his sis is marrying her brother-in-law, and their friend is marrying her brother-in-law's sis. Crazy I tell you. They started talking about the times they went back to their relatives' village to visit, how a 23-yr-old unmarried woman was practically worthless, how the caste system was still very strong, peeing in the fields, how everyone was interconnected by marriage or something, and a zillion other fascinating things.

Ooh, and I learnt a few Hindi words: Harami=Bastard; Kuta=Dog; Chutiya=Asshole. Why they chose to teach me just these words, don't ask.

That Dinner

Oh yeah, I also promised myself to blog about Monday night's dinner.

I had a 4-6pm class, and I had made plans to go for mass at Holy Cross with Kenny and Fang Long. But, when 4.15 came, I couldn't take it, so left the class... haha. And really, I didn't feel like staying in school to wait for mass AT ALL. But as fate - no, God's will - would have it, I somehow stayed, and went to the church. I was distracted during mass, and kept looking towards the rightside of the church... at "The True Cross of Jerusalem." Well, basically, I was daydreaming alot.

After mass, we ran into a bunch of IHMers, and they suggested having dinner together. Feeling really tired, I was just so reluctant to have dinner, as I did not want to make small talk with people I did not know very well. But you know what, it turned out to be one of the best and most insightful talks that I've had in a looooooong time.

You know, in my last post, I wrote about how it felt good to be busy and stuff? Well, one of the guys shared about how the human spirit is always so agitated, how we always want to do things so quickly, how especially in Singapore, we take pride in multi-tasking, when really, we're just scratching the surface of our potentials this way, and nothing good really comes out of it. And how God's spirit is just so gentle in comparison. Even God, who could have created the world in 2 seconds if He wanted to, did one thing a day for 6 days, and rested on the 7th.

I looked back at the past week and I realised how the business wasn't all that great. As Shireen said, it was really just a temporary solution to fill up any emptiness in myself. How true. I realised I had begun to feel so mechanised (if machines could feel in the first place), just merely following schedules after schedules.

I've got more to say, but I'm kinda lazy,and the library's closing soon, so I'll just leave it at there. There.

The Irony

"Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow!" As dawn breaks, and we say goodbye, all I long for is the darkness, where I shall be one with you again...

Ok I'm talking about my blanket.

It's been cold, rainy, and gloomy for the past 4 days. And the absolute best thing in the world to do is - obviously - snuggle up in bed all day. Sad thing is, school starts this week, so all snuggling plans have been cut short.

BUT! (Ah here comes the big B-U-T) I don't have school on this glorious (albeit wet) Wednesday, so I woke up this morning, all ready to soak up the sweet langour of this day.

Anyway.

I checked my mail this morning, and found this email from one of my dear profs, reminding me of the absolute necessity to read our national daily - beyond the entertainment and sports sections. So. Reading the papers this morning made me laugh.

I realise that ironies make the best news. The incongruity of what is expected and what actually occurs. Take today's papers for instance:

- A man rescues a young lady from drowning in an icy lake, then sues her for giving him a high fever and arthritis.

- That strange Lebanese guy who claims to be worth billions, but is wanted for cheating and fraud in other countries.

- China's excessive economic development in recent years have led to MEGA environmental problems and perhaps even a lowering of living standards.

- And horror of horrors: Cough syrups don't work. In fact, they may actually cause harm to children in the form of over-sedation. I think I am going to pass out thinking of the massive amounts of cough syrup I took as a child. Maybe that's why I now sometimes seem overly sedated.

- Then there is the story of that Filipino girl, who despite her family's poverty, returns a large bundle of cash. A story slotted amidst the many other stories of stealing and cheating.

"Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you

when you think everything is okay and everything's going right.

And life has a funny way of helping you out when you think

Everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face."

That Capricious Breeze

“The wind that closes one door opens another.”

That line has been ringing in my head for the past couple of weeks. I probably got it off some old movie or some book – which, then again, is highly unlikely since the only things I’ve been reading lately are the chronicles of Narnia.

I’d like to think of that wind as a capricious summer breeze… always changing, always unpredictable… susceptible to changes in any direction at any instant. That’s life… well, it is for me at least. It’s just not terribly fun if we could map our entire lives out on paper, is it?

I feel it’s an apt way for me to start off 2006. A new year? A new beginning? I don’t know. But lately, I’ve realized that life is so unpredictable. Don’t worry, I’m not going to quote that terribly clichéd line out of Forest Gump… but you get what I mean.

I wonder what this coming year holds. I know I’ll be making that trip to the states in May. It’s hard to believe I’m actually going – still can’t fathom how I made up my mind just like that, went for the interview the next day, just before my English Language paper. Oh well, things like these make life more interesting.

I want this year to be a time of letting go. Letting go of past mistakes, past hurts, past experiences, even past joys that I somehow still hang on to. I realize that I’ve often gone against that wind, using my entire being as a barrier to the flow of the air, stopping it from opening any more doors. It is only through the closing of one door can a new one be opened.

EURRRGGGGHHHH!!

"There's nothing remarkable about it. All one has to do is hit the right keys at the right time and the instrument plays itself."

Easy for you to say, Mr. Bach.

Strangeness

Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to be something that you know you'd never be, never want to be, or in fact, never even thought of being?

Last night, I was a budding actress.

I was looking to join a theatre company. I was in this huge maze-like building, where every room had some audition or interview or other, to join some organisation or other.

As if it was the most natural thing to do, I directed myself straight to the drama section. I knew exactly where I was headed. I found my name on a list pasted on a door, and I step in.

Seated there was a certain local actress, well known in the local theatre scene. Seems like she's the one conducting the interview. I smile and wait for her to offer me a seat. She simply looks at me and says, "Look at my dogs. Aren't they pretty?" She makes a slight gesture to look behind me.

I turn around. There is a round table. Lying curled up on the floor around it are four people, dressed in black. Sleeping. I turn back and stare at her as though she had gone mad. She stares back.

Something suddenly occurs to me. I walk over towards the sleeping people. I bend down, stroke one lightly on the head. It stirs. Each one wakes after the other. They are no longer human. Good doggies. How adorable. The next few moments go past in a blur. All I knew was that I had four pups that I had to give my undivided attention to.

Time for evaluation. Local actress tells me that I would be assessed according to four criterion - diction, expression ... her words drone on. She tells me that my my final grades are BBBD. I nod - like I understand. "Well that's it then," she says. "You did well."

I turn to leave, and she escorts me to the door.

As I step out of the room, local actress grins at me and says, "Can you believe it, some people are actually going for interviews to join these funny sports and social clubs." Our eyes met, with knowing looks. I pretend to scoff. She smiles with a slight nod. Suddenly, I knew I got the job.

And then I woke up. Strangeness.

The consequence of lack of sleep.

The Job

“Journalism is the art of capturing behaviour.”

Got that line out of an absolutely intriguing movie which I watched a couple of days ago: “Shattered Glass”. Based on a true story, the plot revolves around a promising young journalist by the name of Stephen Glass. With an unnerving knack for uncovering the most incredulous stories, the most sensational quotes, and being incredibly well-liked by his colleagues, Glass seemed on the way to ultimate journalistic success... till a chain of events revealed that most of his stories had in fact been either fully or partially fabricated. And lest you start thinking that he was writing for some trashy magazine that lacked credibility, he actually wrote for an extremely established political magazine and was a stringer for many other well-known publications. He got by the numerous fact checks by actually creating sources from scratch. If he required a website, he threw in what he knew of HTML and set up one; if his editor asked to speak to the newsmaker, he somehow managed to get someone to call him back. In short, he pretty much managed to fool his editors, colleagues and readers to think that he was truly the best at his craft.

Now hang on before you start thinking this is a movie review of such. On the contrary, I wanted to create a post about this totally fascinating line of work, and the movie merely gave me inspiration to do it. Alright, I know the plot of this particular movie isn’t exactly most appropriate to throw a positive light on a profession that I endear myself to. But watching the way the newsroom was run did bring back certain memories I had while doing my internships.

Some memories are so fantastic that I fear I'd do them injustice by putting them down in words. The excitement of that first by-line. The ecstasy of getting a page-one story. That cheap thrill of peeking over someone’s shoulder on the train to see them reading a story you wrote. I remember my nerves the first time I had to make interview someone of stature - the preparations of my “Hello” speech, how I was going to try to sound as intelligent as I could, the sighs of relief when I put down the phone, the satisfaction when I typed those quotes in, and that feeling when I finally saw them in print. I remember the sense of security of knowing you had a great editor - one that was not merely there to make your words sing, but one who really stood by and supported his reporters and photographers through thick and thin. I had one such editor. I remember the way he defended any reporter or photographer that got verbally or physically assaulted by newsmakers, and assured us that he would always back us up even if the company didn't. I remember those 3 consecutive nights we spent at the airport chasing a story, leaving only at about 5am. On one of those nights, that same editor came to drive us home, for fear that we’d be too tired, or have no other way of getting home. I remember that first Sting-Operation I did, where the newsmaker I had met was later found out to be a convicted pedophile. I remember the feelings we interns had just knowing that some of our friends and colleagues were in Iraq or Afghanistan covering the wars. And the conversations over coffee about whether we’d get our turn to go in the future. All that fear and excitement intertwined in the most indescribable fashion.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also remember those long hours by the phones, waiting for the PR of some damn company to give you that last quote you need to finish the story. Those long waits with nothing to do and not able to go home as your editor tells you that he’s looking at your story, only to come back and hour later to say he was having dinner, and that he’ll look at it later. And when the story comes back, it’s full of holes you’d have to plug, which means another couple of hours or so in the office. I remember the phone calls from the office at 4am, with the copy editors yelling at you for a full ten minutes, asking you why you did not pick up your phone earlier, before saying that they just called to check the spelling of the name of someone mentioned in your story. The times that a story comes in an hour before you are set you meet a friend for dinner, and you know that you’d have to cancel all those plans.

And then there are those fun, quirky moments that don’t quite fit into either the boon or bane categories. Like the answering of the hotline calls that interns are sometimes assigned to do, the encounters of strange people calling in, asking for soccer and lottery results, the length of your hair, whether you are wearing a skirt, etc. That even stranger "shut up guy" who kept calling just to yell at us to er, shut up. And the equally strange guy who would call and tip us off with some incredible story, and later say his name was Michael Jackson. And that funny girl who thought that tipping us off with a story meant she could win a prize by telling us a joke she made up. The times when we tried to sneak out of the office at 6, and suddenly hearing the editor’s voice, “Oy! The sun hasn’t set, why are you leaving?” The times I got my work pass mixed up with my ezlink card and wondered why I could not get by the MRT gantry.

There is so much more I have yet to experience in this fascinating line of work. Yet as it is, I’m still unsure if I want to do this as a career, or whether I’d even qualify academic-wise, personality-wise and stamina-wise. It sure isn’t an easy job; the hours are unpredictable and demanding, the deadlines unnerving. In fact, it’s a job with an insane amount of responsibility. To the journalist, it is just another story. Another work day in another work week. Another article to file up in the portfolio. But to the newsmaker, it is his LIFE.

Truly, journalism is an art of capturing another human’s behaviour, another human’s life. Yet, there are also limits to what one should reveal and what should be kept private. Intertwined with all this is that adrenaline rush in meeting deadlines, the challenge of meeting people from all walks of life, the lack of predictability in a day’s work, and so much more. Somehow, I just want to experience it all over again. And again. And again.

Journalists often have that front row seat in the creation of history. Save me one.

Addicted

Your breath – Breathes through me,
As I walk on by;
Oblivious to the world around me –
I don’t stop to say hi.

Your gaze – falls upon me,
I look up and I see;
Everything that I desire,
All the things I want to be.

Your voice – stirs within –
Like a heartbeat, like a thread;
I push it aside and say,
“Voices, get out of my head.”

I run, I hide, yet you still linger;
I push myself away from you –
You invite me to come forward,
There’s nothing else I can do.

I cry and tear my hair out –
You say, child, do not weep;
You are mine and I love you,
By my side, you - I’ll keep.

In desperation, I finally open my eyes –
Just a little, not any more;
But through that tiny hole a ray of light streams forth –
That warms my very core.

I realize that what I’m seeking
I’ve been pushing away in strife;
My Lord, my God, I love you,
Come into my life.

Dreams

I was thinking a whole lot about dreams yesterday. Are they just these airy-fairy hopes for the future, with no basis of truth or reality? Or are they tangible, maybe even - dare I say it - possible plans? But if so, then what makes them any different from goals?

It started yesterday when one of my closest friends in the world called me yesterday morning. Grace had finally returned from New Zealand where she had been studying dance the past three years. Once again, she calls me on one of those days that I decide to sleep in, so she still thinks I’m a complete sloth. Talking to her made me remember certain significant moments of our IJ days – dreaming. Not just the daydreaming that takes place when the teachers started to drone on and on in class. Not just the simple phenomena of our minds wandering when nothing else seemed to interest us in the heat of the day.

I’m talking about the moments we talked about what the future held for us after we left IJ, after we left the whole Singapore education system; where we then stood in the world. I remember those conversations that the two of us, together with Cheryl, had during time between lessons. Grace, of course, wanted to be a dancer. Cheryl had amazing passion for theatre and drama. Me, being fickle as usual, couldn’t quite decide between the visual arts and music. But on the whole, we had the same dream; we wanted to do something different with our lives, something special that we loved and wanted to share with the world. We did not want to jump on the bandwagon, join the rat race, or climb the corporate ladder.

We wanted to build our very own Arts School. We talked about the different faculties that we would have, and even what we would like our school to look like. Oooh yes, there was no harm being ambitious. We wanted our school to be located on the top of a cliff, overlooking crashing waves – ala Malory Towers. It had to have this terrific gothic castle architecture, and be totally isolated from the hustle and bustle of Singapore life. Well, it certainly didn’t hurt to dream.

More than five years down the road and it’s time to take a peek at where we are right now. Grace got a fantastic scholarship to studying dance, left after her A levels, and is now back in Singapore, ready to start her career. Cheryl was very much involved in the local theatre scene, before leeaving for New York to study theatre. As for me, I’m doing the good ol' fashion Arts degree. Oops, wait a sec. Arts and Social Science degree. Ok, political science to be specific. Dreams really do change. Right now, the closest thing I have to a dream is to become a writer. Everything else falls under that really convenient category: “Hobbies”.

It’s not that I’m unhappy. In fact, I do love my life and where I am right now. But sometimes I wonder, maybe it was only I who was dreaming. My friends had tangible goals. The line between the two is thin, and yet the boundaries are clear. I still often find myself drifting off (also known as my screensaver mode), wondering how things would be if they were different, if I had made different choices along the way. Not just in the whole “What I want to do with my future” sense, but in other ways too.

So perhaps it’s true. Thinking is the function. Living is the functionary.

Enough of the dreaming. Time to live.

The Island

Emerson said this of nature: “There is never a beginning, there is never an end, to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always circular power returning to itself. Therein it resembles his own spirit, whose beginning, whose ending, he never can find, - so entire, so boundless.” That’s just beautiful, isn’t it? That the whole of nature, the universe, of God, is intertwined with us mere beings; that in knowing nature, we know ourselves.

Spent the day in Pulau Ubin. Great place, still seemingly untouched by mercantile civilization – save for the bike rental shops and seafood restaurants. But really. The pace of life is so much slower, the smiles on faces more genuine, the freedom intoxicating. Alright, alright, exaggerating a tad bit. But amidst the groans of butt aches, leg aches and what naught, the scenery was amazing. Nature in all its wonders. Truly feeling alive in our tiredness. For city bums like us, everything was fascinating; the mudskippers, the school of fish nibbling on the chip, the monitor lizard, the lady bird, the incredible number of mosquitoes, and much more. I could have just sat there by the water and stoned, maybe forever. Indeed – so entire, so boundless.

It’s so hard to believe that this part of Singapore was so different. We even started talking about which GRC Ubin actually belonged to, and whether the islanders were allowed to vote. Or about how the school kids got to school everyday – was there a special school ferry for them to mainland every morning? It was just difficult to find common ground with life as we are used to.

Who’s to say what life is really meant to be? Yes, we’d like to think the islanders would have it much better if they were to move to the mainland. Better standards of living. Higher levels of affluence. Whatever else. But for every thing that is given, something is taken.

And I’m sure they wouldn’t have their island taken away from them even if they were promised the world.

The Initiative

Alrighty then, first entry.

It's Sunday night, and I thought it would be fun to finally get started on this blog thing. I was inspired to start this after I saw Shireen's blog, and she told me to check out Terence's blog, and I realised that everyone's blogging, so why not. Afterall, if I want to write for a living, I might as well start writing for myself... here. And if I suck, well, time for a new career plan. Haha. Besides, I thought it'd be nice to put down some nice encounters, thoughts, snippets about myself. Sometimes things move so fast it's scary, and I just want to keep some memories to share with whoever drops by. You know the same way Dumbledore puts his wand to his forehead, draws a couple of strands of wispy gray hair that are meant to be his memories (forgive me, just watched The Goblet of Fire yesterday), well, this is going to be my own little pensieve.

So. I guess this is number one.