Secrets

Maybe life, and relationships, are full of untold secrets that people hide from each other. Swept under the carpet like bits of dust, or locked away in the safes of our souls like precious jewels.

Maybe we all need to hold on to that irreplaceable sparkle of glorious deeds, of forbidden indulgences. Larger-than-life memories to hold on to, to remind us that we too have lived like heroes in a movie.

Maybe we all can't let go of the darkness in our depth.. Of unspeakable horrors, of guilty mistakes we can't deal with.. Dark things that can't face the light of day or the light of truth.

What would it be like to have led a perfectly open life with nothing to hide? No thoughts to guard, no fear of a slip of the tongue?

Stressed

Will the world
pass by me quietly, quietly

If I sat with my head buried in my hands.

Trust in the driver

I heard a beautiful analogy the other day at church membership class.

If life were like a journey, believing in Christ is not about driving myself on the road in the way I think God wants me to.

It's about handing the keys to God, to have Him know:

Heavenly Father, I surrender my life to you.Take the keys to my life, control it and steer it to your will.

I will do my part to be a good passenger in Your eyes, so that You can allow me to continue on this journey with you.

With You in charge, I should never need fear, or worry, or feel sad, for You know best for my journey.

Father, please, please hold on to me with Your amazing grace, for You know I will not always succeed.

Life's little regrets

Yesterday on the plane, I sat next to an elderly gentleman. As always, out of curiosity I automatically started to scan hints of who he was and where he was headed to.

His face bore the wrinkles and spots of age, his eyes were a cloudy blue, and his hair was white. When the lights were turned low after meal service, he didn't seem to know how to turn on his reading light and had a hard time reading his book. His entertainment system remote control popped out by accident and he fidgeted and tried and finally gave up by leaving it dangling. I had to show him out to place it back in.

He was reading a book on Serbia. Could this be the holiday of his dreams, planned and saved for over a lifetime? Or maybe he's from Serbia?

He repeatedly referred to the transit map of Changi Airport, so I knew that Singapore was only a short stop in the grander scheme of his travels.

He read and re-read his travel itinerary printed on a company letterhead that stated 'Adventure Travels'. Adventure travels! It seemed rather oddly in contrast with his appearance.

Then I saw him take out a letter written on lined paper, with squiggly handwriting that squeezed two rows of words into each single line. He pored over the letter. I could hear little sniffles from him and the tip of his long nose looked red.

And as we got closer to Singapore, he seemed to be in a panic. With trembling hands, he kept on keeping and taking out the Changi Airport transit map from his pocket, elbowing me time and again in my waist.

Stuck in the middle of a three-seater row, I had already spent the whole trip jostling with him for elbow room on the armrest between us. He had the aisle armrest! Why can't he lean that way instead? Not a kind thought did I spare for him! Not one kind word when I could have tried to reassure him!

We finally landed and I kept an eye on him to see if he was lost. But with his tweed jacket on and duffel carrying case in hand, he gave off a stately and confident air, ignoring the ground staff by the directional signage and going on his way. That was the last I saw of him.

Here I find myself having to write him down, needing to get him off my thoughts, needing to get my ugly hard-heartedness off my chest.

Home after holidays

There comes a point when I really feel so heartsick I want to get away from it all.

It's just so claustrophobic. I'm picturing my room as a small box within a bigger box of my house, within a block of flats, within an estate, within crowded Singapore. Shut up, you noisy kids at the basketball court! And you the germ with the high-pitched voice next door!

It's even more heartsick that I realize I've lost all respect for a person whom I'm supposed to have the utmost respect for just by birthright. Really, really...

Fuck it all. I just wanna up and go.

Hope in little jars

How strange a cosmetics department store must look to an alien!

Jars and bottles in all sorts of shapes, sizes and colours. Tall and slim, short and round. Oval, square and rectangular. Glass jars, plastic bottles, all sorts of containers in green, white, red, blue, silver, gold, and every other imaginable colour.

This one contains a rare deep sea ingredient, that one's made from the latest designer Japanese technology. Pore-tightening, skin peeling, wrinkle-reducing, soothing, quick, effective, miraculous elixirs!

Every wish granted by a little jar for sex, allure, beauty, elegance, luxury, fashion, youth, revitalization, freshness, perfection, purity, energy, excitement, elevation, revival, anything, oh anything! you've ever wanted.

Armies of women slathering lotions, spraying perfumes, applying toners, cleansing faces, apply make-up base, foundation, powder, eyeliner, brow liner, eyeshadow, mascara, blusher, lip liner, lipstick, gloss.. How long will it take to achieve perfection top to toe?

Ah, this fanciful and deceitful world!

Growing up

Quite often I wonder if at 27, I'm still too immature.

I can't seem to handle very well the responsibilities of looking out for others' needs on top of my own, or the stresses of work. My moods and emotions get on top of my logical thinking and sensibilities.

I've been down for a while now and can't seem to pick myself up.

Am I lacking in emotional maturity?