Dear God. 
Thank you for reminders


Even the difficult ones. 
Today is a reminder that tho I'll always be tempted to feel otherwise, 
my achievements do not validate me;
my popularity does not validate me;
my skills which are not mine to begin with do not validate me;
however hard I work or however brilliant I'm deluded to think I am, cannot earn my validation.


Only one man has validated me and that man is Jesus.
My Lord and saviour who walked on earth to be despised and murdered so that his precious blood could be given to wash away my blemishes. Who before I knew him, called me his own, before I loved him, first loved me. 


For his kingdom alone I should strive for. 
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men. 
Colossians 3:23


Lord won't you shatter the vanity the world make attractive and set me apart. Esteemed only in your court and not in the eyes of man. But let me only live as a testimony of the Love you demonstrated and commanded upon me. 

victoria sponge muffins things?

I promise not to turn this into a food blog. but this was too pretty to not record. courtesy of matthew's galaxy II. 

Victoria sponge muffins. with hollowed out tops filled with whipped cream. 

Since I have no scales in my "northern holiday home" I tried to convert a basic victoria sponge recipe into gms. quite thick the batter so added a wee bit of milk to loosen it. i am as surprised as u are why it rose so much. perhaps the oven was too hot. says my memory from the betty crocker cook book. my first thought when I saw it so peaked was 'Oh no how is the strawberry cap gonna balance on top!? '
hahaha clearly not too much of a problem. carried this comfortably from the "northern holiday home" all the way to the GU psy dept :D hee.

the joys of having fresh whipped cream.... inspired by a craving one day for Eton Mess, to Matthew's horror I bought fresh whipping cream, a box of meringue and a spanking new hand mixer to make it. I now have 7 meringues to clear whahaha.


also this is when matthew and I discover what single, whipping and double cream really are. from delia

If you were to map out your wandering thoughts. Race with it on the fastest machine available to archive your dictations. What would fail you first. The inability to translate the thought’s current destination to words, or the inability to hurry the enunciation of words. What then would you do with such an archive? Under what retirement circumstance would you need to use such a map?

Like photographs taken on trip, revisited when one needs the image as a key into another time and situation. Gradually, it fades into nostalgia. When the user departs, and the heir to the documents can only guess what happened and whether it actually mattered.

If such a continuous mapping exercise existed, when then would the old become obsolete? New maps generated over existing territories, burying the previous under newer conclusions. If an old feature doesn’t translate onto the new mapping, has it by choice ceased to be important or been confiscated by the parasite of time and its feeding upon our memory?

Even photographs cannot preserve it. As a plant that needs constant watering and care, if we neglect that memory for too long, it will not be around the next time we return to it. Its original label still stuck in the crusted soil, but nothing to substantiate it. A small thought that is not recorded is like a wind-carried seed, passing by but never implanted. Some thoughts are heavier than others and more hardy in variety. It might not prosper, and we might never visit it again, but it is there, refusing to whither and unconsciously affecting the ecosystem of our being.

It is raining

I think its time for april resolutions. i

get this feeling each time i have to write an essay. half way through, before the panic, there is a zen. all is right, I am more awake than i have been the past few weeks, and its time to clean spaces.

The physcial realm will always need cleaning. I generate more mess than anyone I know.

[ Encountering someone messy cannot count as knowing them. ]

For this I compensate by cleaning more.

The computer desktop looks just like the desktop it sits on. I can see a strip of table here and there, and I know it exists, but because it does not get in anyone's way, there will never be an urgency to clear it.

A surge of inspiration....

wait.

Am I procrastinating from an essay?

How sneaky you.

I shall write you down and archive you.

Proposal for an art work.

I will select a place on the map, and you will do the same, we will draw a straight line between the two and meet in the middle as best as possible.

Upon meeting we can take a photo, have a meal, spend a day together, or just depart.

Lets continue until our choices align and no compromise has to be made.

i know that i'm probably the laziest in uploading food pictures, contrary to my singaporean-bred instincts. but somethings like these are too good not to put for posterity sake.

apple bacon brie sandwich.

I used camembert cos it was a bit cheaper. and I never fried bacon slices so crispy in my life before! increased the amt of apples cos the cheese and bacon was just so jelat. ate the first one so quickly this is the second one, slightly less awesome looking, but treats the conscience a little better. for more awesomeness, can use cooked apples in this :)

ode to coffee. if u can sing it. i make coffee for you.

decisions in the morning are fuzzy.

coffee no coffee.

coffee is acidic, must eat something for breakfast. hmmm whats easy to toast.

coffee with milk or not with milk

sniff. sip... gulp gulp gulp

decisions in the morning... easy.

HEY HO LETS GO!

(i said they were easy i did not say they were good.)

Sometimes I need to write to clear my mind. a re-organisation of some sort. Its not an exercise in dumping and unloading but perhaps a manner of making it a more hospitable space.

What is it about letters that a journal cannot satisfy?

In this age its not the social norm anymore. It is an obsolete and even puzzling thing to receive and generates curiosity as to why and who would waste the time and effort etching down the blueprint of their soul and requesting a slow and uneconomical service to deliver it.

Clinging desperately to my paper, pen and stamps, even as the internet beckons with business-orientated reliability and instant gratification.

I can only assume that few who receive letters stop to question why the person bothered if not for some shrewd gain. I can only assume that most of them are pleased with the gift and it seems in this age a thank you via text or facebook is sufficiently polite a response. I can only assume because no one has responded with a 'why'.

Perhaps only the writer is in doubt over his or her actions. Mostly because a letter is not a gift.

Why do I continue? I need not the security they way bank statements think the postal service has over emails, nor am I sending items undeliverable via a scanner and unreceivable via an inbox. Am I sending my love? No. I refuse the automatic nostalgic association designed to simplify this antiquated practice. Surely I do not need letters and mail to express my care to those whom I cherish? Neither do I want them to constantly have this nagging item in their home reminding them of my existence (a photo not a letter would have been adequate).

I am in pursuit of an answer but I like the pursuit. I like the pursuit but I don't need an answer. I don't need the answer but the lack of one is not why I pursue it.

'But surely you know why you do it!'

I don't. No one would tell me

but I shall continue without regret.