bringing forth

Deanna

2008-11-26T16:11:00.000-08:00

Since September 2007 I have been helping out at Gawith Villa at rather irregular intervals, bringing intellectually-disabled clients to an art studio. I functioned basically as their art mentor, helping them as they go about drawing, painting and writing. Last year, there was Deanna, Sheryl and Cuong. When I resumed in August this year, only Deanna remained. Still it was a tremendous journey and one that through its ups and downs, brought me joy.

Deanna must present an interesting case to therapists and doctors. She is not afflicted with Down Syndrome, cerebral palsy or other common intellectual-disorders. She is also not wheelchair bound. Seen from a slight distance, she looks physically alright. The people at Gawith Villa explained to me that when she was young, she was placed in the Kew Cottages (an organisation that looked after the intellectually-disabled, it has since been closed down), although she was not diagnosed with any of the illnesses. In the Cottage, the care that was given to the children was apparently really bad. Deanna started out being fine, developing like most children would. However, being immersed in such an environment she started to pick up behavioural traits from others and forming them to become her own. Now she does not speak at all, preferring to use hummings and body language (like stamping her feet, tapping her head or pushing things presented to her away) to express herself.

I first got to know of Gawith Villa through my university's careers website. Taking half a year off studies, I decided to look for something to gainfully occupy my time in Australia. I thought: hmmm maybe there is something I can learn here and give back through service. At that time I was a lot more focused on the latter. Through time I realised that the people I was 'helping' with my able body and mind actually thought me infintely more about life in return.
Sounds like one of those 'cliched' stories with some moral saying attached at the end? Pause and push the cynicism aside for a while. Because it really is true. This world thinks that only the famous, well-off and well-connected have much to teach us about living on earth, so much so that they shape the choices we make. Yet wisdom reveals herself differently... in places found by those who fully seek her. I did not really search for wisdom when I began volunteering for I thought it was me who had much to give. God changed this perspective of mine and showed me wisdom's way.

Deanna loves drawing circles and spirals. Give her a piece of paper and a marker, colour pencil or crayon and she immediately responds by drawing these exuberant circles all over the surface. I realised a certain trend in the way she draws. When she begins she tends to do a scribble over the paper, almost like claiming the territory. She also usually draws in the part of the paper closer to her and draws in other parts when you point them out to her.
She also hardly takes the colouring tools by herself. I would either pass a colour to her or let her pick a favourite between a choice of 2 or 3 colours. Then with colour in her hand, it is get-go from the start. She will just draw and draw and draw. Sometimes the circles spill out of the border and Deanna will begin colouring the table beneath. Sometimes she will deliberately draw circles in the corners, tight concentrated circles, almost like she is marking out a frame.
There are scenes of dense whirls of pure colour. No shading. Sometimes the pressure is hard and the line is bold, assertive and confident. Sometimes a bit of pressure is released and the line becomes light, almost whimsical. The layers of colour build one on top of the other.

Ask her what the image means and she will not explain. Ask many of the clients what their image means and they may not give an answer that can satisfy the curiosity of a curator or art historian. I remember the bunch of us art mentors coming together to select artworks for an exhibition (Art, I Like It! now on at Malvern and Prahran town halls). Being the quiet subdued me, I watched and listened as they made curatorial decisions. I realised how truly difficult it is to make 'sense' of the mass of artworks in the studio - sense that is sense to us.
The clients hardly ever speak of how they feel when they make art. It is instinct. Crayon, brush, paper and go! Many of the mentors said likewise of their experiences. Not like us who think: oh if I draw a rose this way, it will look like a carnation.
This is not to value the clients' works as more 'pure or true to nature' than ours. It is simply a way of expression that can change our mindsets the more we allow ourselves to understand.

And what a process of engagement it was! Over time I found that I could call the works Deanna produce almost my own too. The execution is purely hers. But the choice of paper, choice of colouring material and choice of colours were all offered by me for her to make.
This made it such a joy. I could be a part of her discovery of art! I could be involved in the act of self-expression. =)

Yesterday something inconceivable happened. Deanna seemed rather moody, choosing not to colour anything. She placed all the markers back in the box and insistently pushed the paper away. She had scribbled spirals in yellow ink and had decided that that was it.
But she kept on sitting next to me instead of moving to her favourite massage chair a distance away. She looked on as I helped Kattie draw Christmas cards for Marina and Anthony.
Then she started drawing, nearly an hour on.

This time she was drawing long relaxed vertical wavy lines that are reminiscent of streamers! Marina was so delightfully taken aback that she said - Deanna you're drawing a party!
It was colourful. Instead of limiting a piece to the usual 4 - 6 colours, Deanna was using the whole palette available. There was even blue, a colour she does not fancy using much.
With heavy strokes she would press the marker tips strongly unto the surface. The result was vibrant and energetic.
I felt such joy and almost a tinge of pride to see how far she had come. And it was also officially my last day (though I intend to visit at least once more).

As she was leaving she stomped either foot once, making it sound like she was saying byebye. Cute! hahahaha
As for me, I told Marina I was going to take the works home. Keepsakes. Reminders that art can bring life with it.

2008-10-16T16:55:00.000-07:00

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun,
which is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.

My silhouette

2008-10-12T04:43:00.000-07:00

Wow I cannot believe it has taken me so long to getting down to writing a blog entry! It is not that I lacked time. It is just that somehow it took a while for me to find the motivation (tonight it is the completion of writing the conclusion for my thesis) and seriously, time is a precious resource that I am still learning to use well.
So many things have been happening. I have been preparing for a song and dance item for my church's upcoming women's conference. The theme is Freedom and the song is aptly titled Free to Love. It has been such a challenge for me and Mel as we are brought out of our comfort zones - me in dancing and for her, singing. We certainly did not think it would be so challenging when we said yes to putting up the item. Does this mean we will not persevere through? Of course not. Afterall the power and worth is to finish the race and finish it to the best possible.
But still, it is not a breeze. Acting out a monologue seems far easier than dancing solo against a screen that magnifies my silhouette. As for Mel it does not get simpler. She told me today that the microphone appears to swallow up all the effort she has been putting into her singing.
I need to practise on this item of mine. The reason for the lack of practise is simply explained out by the fact that my thesis is due on the same day the conference opens. Nearly 9 months of research, planning, writing, re-planning, re-writing and editing has culminated in just over 12,000 words on Dutch genre paintings of women at home. It really ought to be the big moment in my academic life and certainly I have learnt many things from it. However it has been crippled in some ways. One, time. Two, word limit. Three, that I am not fluent in Dutch and other European languages.
If there ever comes a time in the future when I get to pursue my own research and write another paper I hope that at least two of those three will not remain obstacles. Are there other things that I may be keen on writing about? Let me see... art of indigenous groups in China? the presence of a British colonial aesthetic in Singapore? returning to what sparked off my interest in art history... Vincent van Gogh? Is it no irony that I am still writing about Dutch art, albeit those made three centuries earlier?
After this I have a presentation the following week on my essay topic. Theoretically I should have confirmed my topic with my lecturer and finalised my essay proposal. Theoretically I should have already done significant research on the topic and be able to prepare a 15 minute presentation, complete with slides of images, and deliver it to a classroom audience of about 20 people. In reality, my lecturer felt the choice of case study for my topic was not the best and advised a change in direction. However I was so preoccupied with my thesis that I did not have time to research further. A brief scan through Google revealed a possible new option (though it certainly has to be backed up by time spent in the library). Chuck Frank Gehry out; enter Frank Stella? Frankly speaking... awww this is enough for the pun here is really in bad taste but I could not avoid it! ^^
Oh Lord! May I find strength in You who never tire. You grant joy and confidence who anchor their faith in You. I lift my eyes and hands toward You. Amen!

The Day and All That's In It

2008-07-29T20:00:00.000-07:00

Here I am typing away on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. It is 1pm. I crawled out of bed at 835am but I am still chirpy. This is amazing.
Must be the cup of chai latte I just had. As I am currently taking driving lessons I have tried to cut back on my chai latte intake. A cup a week totals up to a significant amount of dosh. I must say I have been quite successful, this possibly being my fourth or fifth cup this year? The spiced brew from Mr Tulk [a cafe situated in the State Library and which is cleverly marketed as the book-loving individual's choice of hangout, even so shameless as to use a certain prominent forefather of Melbourne's history for its name] is average. But boasts these paper cups covered with the cafe's signature design. It is a mixture of geometry, bold black marker scribblings and patches of cute graffiti on a white background. I must admit what tempted me to purchase a drink from Tulks was the knowledge that they've cute cups and I can be seen toting one of them. So much for consumerism and vanity.

There is no end to the irony then when I started thinking about recycling my waste as I shuffled home with my brew. And to top it all off, as I collected my mail for the day, the monthly newsletter had a section on the facts of recycling. Here are a couple:
- On Glass: Every month we throw out enough glass bottles and jars to fill up a giant skyscraper. A modern glass bottle will take 4000 years or more to decompose and even longer if it is in the landfill.
- On Paper/Cardboard: To produce each week's Sunday newspapers, 500000 tress have to be cut down. If all our newspapers were recycled we can save about 25 million trees a year.

Hmmm, some food for thought. Some say that our generation is becoming increasingly aware of the damages we are doing to the environment - we are more concerned about social justice, environmental welfare and on the role we can play in looking after our world. Yet on the other hand reality provides its share of checks and balances and it becomes easy to either dismiss projects or any effort on our part as do-good-and-relieve-guilt endeavours, or worse still, we are numbed by facts, figures and initiatives.

Well, a portion of us have heard about Al Gore in An Inconvenient Truth and a few more on what he and a whole large community of scientists, engineers, social scientists, scholars etc. are doing to increase awareness of our destructive actions on the environment. It is all fine and dandy. But let us say that whether these guys are motivated by occupation, passion or inspiring leadership, we can also distance ourselves by saying that all this is not for us. That we do not see why our lifestyle preferences have to change because of statistics and warnings from smart guys who may live continents away from us. Research is research and daily life is daily life?

This sets me thinking. Given that there are a number of reasons for which we remain indifferent to/ignorant of this whole recycling affair: is it REALLY that HARD to recycle? Facts and figures can encourage or numb us to reality. Having said that, what about recycling takes so much wrecking of brains? Does it require us to fork out more money, consume copious amounts of our time, or strain our backs trying to lift heavy weights?

Well no, really. It can be as easy as placing a separate bin next to the bin where we throw food, wet matter or sticky icky items. And where we once threw paper, cardboard, glass, metal or plastic items we can direct it toward the other bin. I also had other ideas which I thought I'd throw in for good measure:
- Use energy-saving light bulbs, afterall they last longer and certainly more than make up for their initial higher cost. In addition they consume less energy.
- Sleep earlier. A revelation came one day when I switched off the lights in my apartment and looked across the road to the mammoth 44-storey block of apartments to see that 1/2 of the rooms' lights were switched on. Around Melbourne too there are shops who keep their window displays lit up throughout the night - what for? Think about the incremental savings you can make if you switch off the lights (or purchase energy-saving alternatives). Plus you contribute to a healthier environment at no severe costs to you. [though I was wondering if shops/offices/companies kept their lights on for security purposes. This says much about the trust we have in people living around us]
- Encourage Coles, Safeway or any supermarket to use paper bags instead or plastic ones. I think it is significantly better than using those 'environment' bags made of thick plastic-cloth material which may just about be harder to decompose and recycle than normal plastic bags. One question though: if we all use paper bags how do we contain wet waste matter like food scraps?
- Use tiffin containers. They were so popular long ago in Singapore and other parts of Asia. They are these awesome, long-lasting metal tins with a handle and two or three parts stacked one on top of the other. This way you can store, for example, rice in one part, vegetable in another, and meat in the last. My parents still use these once in a while instead of asking for takeaway meals to be packed in plastic boxes or waxed paper.
It struck me that we can ask for coffee or hot brews from the cafe to be poured into our own mugs wherever possible instead of using the usual paper cups with plastic lids. This way you can also be certain that you have not taken the wrong order especially during peak times when everyone is waiting for their cuppa.

Well these are my contributions to newfangled ideas on how to recycle. I reckon it is really not all that tedious and cumbersome as we (and I) tend to think it is. Of course what makes recycling a joy to participate in is when we realise the legacy you leave behind is not merely egged on by head knowledge, but a desire from the heart. =)

In-Spiration (2)

2008-06-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

[please scroll down to the earlier post for the start of the story]
I took three subjects in the first semester apart from my fortnightly thesis supervision: the compulsory module Theories of Art History, Iconography and History and Philosophy of Museums. I have to iterate that I have great interest in my thesis topic and find the images so poignant, beautiful and inspiring that I truly thank God for opening this door for me that I may study them in depth. They are such a blessing, a true feast for the eyes and also for the soul. However even the, sometimes, repetitive work of reading book after book, article after article and going through copious amounts of art can dim our attention to detail and even the passion we originally started out with. It is easy to flip through exhibition catalogues and dismiss a painting of a mother with her child as just a variation of another similar work in the same genre.
Altogether so easy to miss out on the in-spiration behind the work: a testimony of the Holy Spirit's presence and ministry to an artist in that window of time.

Crunch time came in the middle of the semester. Already swamped with piles of readings and continuous planning and revision for my thesis, I realised that deadlines for other assignments were fast approaching. With a draft chapter for my thesis [around 3000 words] due 12 May, a Museums essay due 30 May [3000 words], Theories essay due 9 June [4500 words] and an Iconography essay due 11 June [4000 words], I was frantic. There were days when I would awake and the first thought on my mind was: Alright, today I am going to write this amount of words or read this amount of literature. My typical response was to slot the workload according to days, being so careful to take stock of my progress. It became such a challenge to pry my mind away from these 'to-dos' and to find rest in God, trusting Him to carry me through the period.

And He did, He really did, working in ways that till now astound me.

Firstly the deadlines moved (really!). My Museums essay received a week's extension and the Theories essay could be handed in a day later because the Queen's birthday fell on the 9th. This turned out well because my birthday fell on the 8th and I could quite merrily take a full day off. Secondly He taught me a lot about the material I was learning and the choices I make in a way that university is unable to.

At the start of the semester we were made to select a topic for Theories to present on and it was to become the basis for a full-fledged research essay. In less than two minutes flat, the topic I wanted was snatched up online. I signed up under the reserve slot but it was a no-go. All that I ended up having was the topic I wanted least - Ornament. I was absolutely devastated, recalling how I prayed the night before for God to grant me a slot for Reception Aesthetics. What was so interesting about arabesques, palmettes and those orderly intricate designs on Oriental rugs and Corinthian columns?? Afterall hasn't Western art marginalised ornament or decoration as excessive and of far lesser worth than the human figure? As I was prepping my presentation, I randomly selected a work by Matisse that was not even well-known. It turned out to be a stroke of grace. My lecturer thought it was highly apt and encouraged me to use it for my research essay. No sweat. God has just dropped this into my path and cleared the way for my research, which turned out to be straightforward and relatively easy. It is like the moment the image came everything else just fell in place. No competition for the books I needed to borrow and planning was such a breeze. God's gentle mercy. I will always remember what my lecturer said: Sometimes I think that these artworks mean much more than the paintings or sculptures we're so used to. They are discreet, part of the furniture, hidden somewhere, not the centerpiece. But yet they're so significant to that which they're part of. Well this was the gist of it. And this comes from a Baroque specialist no less.

I sense God telling me that it is not size that matters. That which we slight ever so often has a role to play. And sometimes it pays to take heed of these details - the seemingly small and insignificant for they have great worth and beauty too. You have a overwhelming Titian and also the ornamental motifs on the wooden frame surrounding it; the palatial Banquet of Cleopatra by Tiepolo and also the patterns on the figures' garments. Research was quite a ride. I came into contact with tifaifai (Polynesian applique quilts) and saw the evolution of the lotus flower into the palmette. They were amazing artists back then. =)

There was another incident that the Lord showed His amazing grace. With less than two weeks to research and write my essay on St Jerome for Iconography, there was an uphill battle to face. There were 3 other people writing on the same topic and there's this unmentioned pressure to be 'original'. In the last week of semester we were asked to briefly present on what we intend to write about. The other two girls present then were already researching on Jerome and I remember feeling extremely left out because I honestly had nothing much to say. Then somehow the thought of linking depictions of St Jerome to the ancient Greco-Roman philosopher model came to mind. InSpiration! The Lord is good. He knew the limitations I faced (there was severe competition for books in this case) and He was faithful all the way.

I never sensed such a strong presence from the Lord in my studies before as He inspired me and gave me clarity and the determination to see things through to the end without burning out. Things were not easy-peasy but the effort was worth it. The results are not in yet but that is not all there is to it, yeah? Above all the fact that I reached the other side still with hope alive for what is yet to come, is a testimony of the grace He showed me, and still shows me. I am so thankful to Him for carrying me all through the semester, every single day.

All praises to the Lord God Almighty!

In-Spiration

2008-06-19T18:29:00.000-07:00

It has been a long while since I last wrote anything on this blog, partly because I did not feel inspired to write an entry but really more so because I have been a bit too busy to put thoughts and experiences into words online.
The year has so far seen its fair share of challenges, many of which have yet to come to a conclusion. One of them has been the rigours of academic pursuit in the form of an Honours in Art History - that is the degree I hope to get which will in turn indicate that I passed everything (and well, too I do hope). So what is the challenge? Actually there were many challenges that emerged with the commencement of the academic year and throughout the semester.
For those who do not know, I took a semester off after graduating with a Bachelors degree last year even though my original intention was to press on with Honours right after. Why? Because I was experiencing burn-out and 1) could not foresee myself reading another journal article, 2) find my passion for the subject fading away, 3) did not even know what to write for my thesis. I guess to my parents it seemed a flagrant waste of money to pause my studies, indefinitely.
Yet the Lord came through for me in such a mighty way. Through a series of talks with people and a personal search for what truly spoke to my heart (which was confronting and on hindsight, as far from the typical art-history-grind as possible) I found it. The Art of the Dutch in the 17th century!
He has proven Himself so faithful. Upon submitting my application and then returning to Singapore after my visitor's visa ended, I never once doubted that I would get into the program. Not because I am a star student but because I know that He is going to work through me and teach me things in this phase of learning. It turned out that beginning the course was not as arduous and going through it. =)

On the Side of Me

2008-01-31T04:36:00.000-08:00

I'm not the easiest person to love
I'm often the one who lets things go unresolved

Yet you choose to be
on the side of me
Yeah you choose to be on the side of me
on the side of me

I'm not too proud of some things
I've done in my life
The skeletons in my closet
Are too big for me to hide

Yet you choose to be
on the side of me
on the side of me
Blessed Charity
you're on the side of me
on the side of me

Everyone needs a friend to hold
when it's cold outside
and there's no place to go
Everyone needs a friend to hold
all alone I cried
there was no place to go
I remember when nobody cared
but you

I'm not the easiest person to love
But you, you've opened your heart to show me what I'm worth

'Cause you choose to be
on the side of me
on the side of me
What a mystery
You're on the side of me
on the side of me

Everyone needs a friend to hold when
it's cold outside
and there's no place to go
Everyone needs a friend to hold
all alone I cried
there was no place to go

I remember when nobody cared
I remember when nobody cared
Nobody cared
But you

Yeah you choose to be
on the side of me
on the side of me

On the Side of Me
Corrinne May
Beautiful Seed, 2007, Warner Music Singapore Pte Ltd

Panned or banned?

2008-01-22T02:23:00.000-08:00

I was looking for Studio Ghibli dvd collection amongst a stack of discs and chanced upon this double-cd collection of Angela Zhang's music from around 2 years back. My friend bought it for me when she went to China on a vacation. The sleeve was decently printed with rich colours, the spine had the artist's name and some title for the disc, and it had that requisite silver foil circular sticker on the cover. It seemed genuine, or was it?
Upon closer inspection the silver sticker just said H1.0278 - certainly not some recognised board that certifies it does not violate copyright laws.
But the telltale signs lay in the translation. It is really quite a laugh. I read the Mandarin and in loose translation it should roughly arrive at: The most sweet and moving music, female songbird Zhang Shao Han (Angela Zhang) wants to share with you the story of love/a love story...
It became:
It is very profesional to collect very beautiful,the super singer very on intimale terms
Go on riencly contact of cose quanter very
[all spelling, grammatical, punctuation mistakes were retained for authenticity and maximum effect]

I think they just got tired of coming up with actual words.

And my Ghibli discs have yet to be found.

Glimmer, Shimmer

2008-01-14T05:18:00.000-08:00

I went to Bintan over the weekend with my family. We had all never been there before, so winning a complimentary 2 day 1 night stay in one of the resorts was sweet and a real motivation to visit the famous island.

My sis makes great company if only because we understand each other's humour very well. To note: upon arrival at the resort, she spotted a dead white koi fish in the pond and pointed it out to me. We had a laugh about it with me commenting on it being the first koi I saw dead. But, this did not cast a pall over the trip. Still I love koi! They are very slender, with glimmering scales, and look positively inedible.

After checking into the hotel rooms, we happy folks trudged down to the beach. Oh it is amazing how vast and powerful and beautiful God's creation is! The rocks sat heavily, one atop the other, and faced the sea, solidly, like an army battalion. The soft beige of the sand, the sky with its cottony clouds, the sea heightening the sky's colour in even more lucid, glorious tones, and the shawls of green (even though we are wont to say eeuw to algae) which clothe the rocks are so becoming... I digress. There are many things words can describe but never fully express. The awe and splendour one experiences when you see such beauty is one such thing.

Anyway, back to writing lux. I was happily walking into the forthcoming waves, seeing the seaweed sway around my ankles and feeling the tropical breeze brush my skin when, lo and behold! Mozzie comes! One humongous Indonesian mosquito comes and attacks me. Apparently it is so big and heavy that it is less agile than its Singaporean counterparts. This also points out why it was less effective in getting a good long drink out of me. Despite all this it managed to prick my skin twice, prick because you can literally see the mark its straw left on my skin. Looking at it now, it looks like the size of the small moles on my skin. Thankfully it is not itchy although at that time I was wailing to my fellow happy folks how painful it was. Blood was also flowing out of the marks. Serious. These mozzies are vicious.

So we fled the beach for that time and proceeded to the pool. We caught a dad teaching his young ones how to swim. He told the girl - You have to jab at the water surface and not use your palms to slap down, otherwise you'll waste more energy. Then he proceeded to jab with much vigour. He told his younger boy - (who was learning the front crawl) Use your legs to draw a figure 8. At first me and my sis thought it was each foot drawing an 8, which didn't make sense and looked absolutely atrocious when I attempted it. Then we realised he referred to using both legs to draw the 8 at the same time.

The place was peaceful. We slowed down to allow time to take its course. We watched these small birds, which were flying back to their home on the ledges of the hotel building, move with such velocity and flapping their wings so fast that it became a mini sight and sound performance for us. Dinner took over an hour. Such a pleasure, if you ever sat in for our weekday dinners which we go through with such efficiency you wonder if our stomachs can catch up with our mouths and minds.

The best part was spent admiring this little water body that breaks off from the sea and carves an arc through the sand. I do not know how better to describe it so a picture shall do the speaking. Me and my sis proceeded to step into the waters, lured by the appearance of small fishes with gleaming bodies. It was rather scary because the sand was so soft that it would push away with each footstep that falls. Now I know why they say quicksand... So we navigated our way through the narrow stream, watching the water level rise to brush the leg of our shorts, and seeing fishes weave in and out of logs and legs. We tried to catch fish but they slipped right through our fingers.

Then it was time to head back. We went back to the koi pond and saw the dead white koi was scooped out. A turn to the water installation nearby and we saw a lizard at least 45cm long was disappearing into the crevices of the wall of rocks. And it all seemed to conclude our visit - the awesome face of nature in the midst of human creation. Who is the winner?

Playing footy

2008-01-06T04:51:00.000-08:00

I found out, upon a fairly recent visit to the doctor's, that I have a viral wart on my toe. When I first came back to Singapore early on in November, I was convinced, or more likely want to believe, that it was a corn and hence needed to be treated as one.
Off I went to the pharmacy and bought a box of corn plasters. They are elaborate. Allow me to enlighten all blessed persons who have yet to find the need/urge to buy any.

1. Small round medicated plaster with a diameter of around a centimetre. It also has a sticky top side which purpose you will soon find out. This you stick directly onto corn. If yours is bigger than this, sorry.

2. Oval shaped plaster with an underside that has a centre the size of the medicated plaster. Apparently it goes directly on top of the plaster, sort of like a cap, and is intended to pad the area surrounding the corn.

Corns are painful, as was mine, and therefore elaborate plasters are much needed. But lo and behold, it was not a corn to be.

Told this to my sis and the ensuing exchange turned out to be a tad typically dry.

Me - It is not a corn. I treated it in the wrong manner.
Sis - So what is it?
Me - It is a viral wart.
Sis - What?
Me - A wart. I think the wart must be thinking, 'What? She thought I was a corn? I'm a wart!'
Sis - Whatever... Hahaha

I have no idea why I am blogging on a wart. My first wart (therefore the misadeventure in self-diagnosis) which really looks quite disgusting. It is dry and hard and was rather painful. But it will receive the best treatment possible in Melbourne. Since I have paid for my student medical insurance. Doctor's care and liquid nitrogen. It shall die once and for all!

Two Steps Forward

2008-01-01T18:46:00.000-08:00

Well into the second day of 2008 and already challenges have arrived. Relationships of any kind, personal goals (for want of euphemisms or sugar-coated, politically correct language), how to occupy my time (which in fact is a strange thought since I am planned to meet many friends; meaning it really is about work/interning/'official stuff that please mum's ears') and staying positive-minded. After all I do want to change the way I think and the perspectives I take on matters.
So yesterday my sister and I proceeded to calculate our BMIs (Body Mass Index - an index which gauges how healthy our weight is by dividing our weight by the square of our height in metre format). She came in at 17.46 and me at a glorious 17.31. Sheesh. I had better boost my eating patterns and food portions. Maybe women around the world who think skin and thin is glam will regard me as being on the right track but I do not want to make myself vulnerable to osteoporosis in my latter years, with a frail me tottering around in a skeleton of paper-thin skin covering bones with hardly any flesh for padding.
On a chirpier note I think I will like to applaud myself for being so unconventional. =.= On New Year's Eve, I decided I will spend the last hour journaling. So with a Bible, my brinjal-coloured notebook (yes unusual as it sounds it really is brinjal) and my trusty pen I plonked myself belly-down on my parents' queen-sized bed and began to plan ahead for the year. First point, scribble studiously. Pause. Second point, lacklustre scribbling. Longer pause. Put head on bolster and found it a good position to be in. Eyes flutter for a while then close. Third point, scribble with much difficulty. Ahhh decided that bolster is much better. Shall correspond with God in my sleep. So when midnight came I was nicely snuggled in. Mum had earlier on switched off the lights, complaining that I am wasting electricity. She was loudly shouting for everyone to look at the fireworks. People were singing away and shouting... This much I knew but bolster is good and a wide berth of mattress even better. =)
I slept through the countdown! But thank God 2008 still came. Whether or not people were caught drink driving, or were hurt or killed by fireworks, ill, rejoicing, with loved ones or not. It is here.

Looking good is a prerogative

2007-12-24T05:51:00.000-08:00

Me and sis were walking toward the bus interchange when we got waylaid by some wares on display. The stickers caught our attention.

We were looking at the Winnie the Pooh ones when all of a sudden, her eyes drifted to this rather cute goldfish-like fish. We did not recognise the cartoon but my sis being her, was excited at the possibility of uncovering an array of deep sea-themed creatures.

We opened up the booklet... and were confronted by many cute creatures with rather stunned expressions on their faces.

Both of us: Ooooh...
Pause
Sis: They all look shocked. Cheh not photogenic at all!

Poor stickers! It is not their fault the poses were not the most flattering.

Just a year older

2007-12-23T05:10:00.000-08:00

Ooooh, its Dong Ji, or tang yuan festival, also known as the Chinese's Winter Solstice. We do not have winter in Singapore (but we do have thunderstorms) so honestly speaking, I never knew the significance of this rather-mini festival. It took me over ten years to draw the links between the sweet dumpling dessert and 'Dong' (or winter in Mandarin).

Apparently eating those round darlings is supposed to signify that we have aged one year and are moving on to the next (but of course, in more poetic terms). I know I am 23 soon, but I harbour no desire to consume 22 of them in one sitting.

Despite being one day late, my sis and I had a whale of a time hand-making the balls. There was white dough and pink dough, a bowl of water to make the dough more pliable, and finally a bowl of orange coloured sugary stuff.

It turned out to be quite an ordeal. My first few balls turned out terribly wrong. The sugary stuffing spilled out and stained the pink/white dough. My sis and I joked that upon boiling the lot, the water will turn orange because of our lack of skill.

She then gamely proceeded to make star-shaped ones. So it no longer becomes tang yuan (literally translated to soup rounds/circles) but tang xing (soup stars). As you can see, the Lu sisters are taking this revered Chinese festival very seriously.

But so it happens that we did not add enough orange sugar filling. Even though we diligently made two trays of soup shapes (9 stars, 22 rounds/circles), my mum is reluctant to finish up the second tray, complaining that there is too much dough.

So we ended with a table of mess, flour-caked fingers, a thoroughly enjoyable time rolling out our darlings, and four bowls of tang yuan/xing.

Ps. the stars actually kept their shape! They didn't morph to become like their distant roundish cousins!

Victory is in Your hands

2007-12-13T19:52:00.000-08:00

Lord I know You are able.
Lord I believe You are able.
Lord grant me the faith to hope in You who are always able.

In the name of Jesus Christ my Lord and Saviour, Amen!

If you must know, I am not Dutch

2007-12-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

A funny extract from a book which is part of this installation project at the NAC office I work in. It is about the Dutch. How timely! Since my proposed Honours thesis next year is going to be about the Dutch. Never too late to get a whiff of fjords, Calvinism and erm... what else's Dutch?

'The colonial expanse of the Dutch empire stretched far across the blue yonder. They founded New York; they traded in African slaves; they liberated Malaka from the Portuguese. Spices and trade from their colonies were a major source of income. Their reputation as shrewd traders was cemented by the British statesman, George Canning who said:

"In matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch is offering too little and asking too much."

The multiple pejoratives that the word "Dutch" were invented in the seventeenth century by the English in their struggle for economic supremacy, such as:

Dutch courage is the kind that comes out of a brandy bottle.
Dutch treat is an invitation to a dinner you have to pay for.
Dutch auction is an auction where the asking price begins high and goes down.
A Dutch nightingale is a croaking frog.

And many more which have fallen into disuse. I am sure the Dutch coined as many inventive insults, but since English is the default language, we will not speak or hear of those.'

Hahahahaha so funny! I like this guy's humour. And upon reading this slender book, I also found out that tulips came from a Turkish word for turban. Wow! I love it when people talk about words, play on words and misappropriate words. Sometimes you get rather lame puns in the Life! section of Singapore's English daily. Sometimes a friend gets all witty on you and you wish that this would happen a bit more frequently.

[Extract taken from Mr & Mrs K. by Alan Oei, 2006, project for the National Arts Council of Singapore]

A Plea To See

2007-11-29T03:01:00.000-08:00

All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. And God's grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need.
Acts 4: 32-35

The year is drawing to a close and the world is fascinated by Christmas - the promise of a holiday break, festive celebrations, sumptious meals and gift exchanges. Yet there are people in less privileged parts of the world who will not be experiencing much of what we are doing to celebrate the holiday. How holy are our holi-days? Have we forgotten Who made it holy in the first place? Is Xmas just Christ-mas in abbreviated modern-day lingo?

When God gave His Son, Jesus Christ to die for us, He was to be the greatest gift the world can ever receive. Even before we acknowledged Him as Abba Father or gave Him our hearts of love, He gave what was dear and precious to Him. It is the gift of salvation, of life, of love and of infinite abundance. What is beautiful about this gift is that it never runs out, it never dulls in worth and it has the power to last forever.

You may be asking what am I getting at? World Vision Singapore runs a yearly campaign when they approach people like us, anyone and everyone, with an offer to donate or buy gifts for children in poorer parts of the world. Their needs are simple and they do not ask for much. Whether it is a blanket or sweater to keep them warm in cold weather, reading books, a community toilet or school uniforms amongst others. We have been given so much in life - stable jobs, supportive families, education and healthy bodies.

God declares several times in the Bible that He will never leave us, neither will He forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6, Joshua 1:5, Hebrews 13:5). I pray that we will slowly understand and appreciate the true worth of a gift this season and through our giving, show these children that there is a God who remembers, who loves and who has not forsaken them. Many of us have heard of the quote which goes along the lines of - We can give without loving, but we cannot love without giving. Let our hearts be enlarged this season, to think and see beyond the limits of our circumstances. Let us give a gift of Love. Let us show them that God and people whom they may never meet who believe in them.

http://www.worldvision.org.sg/st_Christmas_Gift_Catalogue.php
Check this out for more information!

By no means am I insisting that you do this through World Vision. I am sure there are other organisations which are running similar campaigns. [neither do you have to feel condemned if you decide not to] I am intending to donate to World Vision. So if you will like to do likewise you can contact me and we will submit in our orders together in the same form. To all my friends, it will be really cool if we can all chip in! ^^

As for why I began with a passage from Acts... well read it again! May it stir something within your heart. It is not about how much we give to people around us in terms of financial worth, quantity or material quality. But it is about the heart which is filled with so much love, kindness and caring that transforms a simple gift into a awesome blessing.

Free Rice

2007-11-26T05:32:00.000-08:00

No it is not a campaign to save rice paddy fields from prying fingers, it is something charitable souls have started to benefit hungry millions from underprivileged parts of the world.

www.freerice.com

Calling all wordsmiths, literate people and anyone with a penchant for multiple choice questions - work out your computer terminal for a better good!

Pour Toi

2007-11-25T06:33:00.000-08:00

Mon plus profond et sincère remerciment a Jonathan pour son assistance des plus aimable pour avoir aider une pauvre fille desesperer qui ne compren rien sur les ordinateurs et a créé le theme de son blog present.
Probablement elle aurait effacé son blog ou tous ces entrées par accident si vous ne l'aviez pas aider.
C'est pour cela que vous meritez une petite entree en francais, rien de moins, pour avoir créé le monde virtuel qui est un endroi plus vivable.Avec mon blog minion, l'hamster qui tourne et tous.

-lux-

New Found

2007-11-13T01:54:00.000-08:00

I just checked the calendar. It is amazing. It has only been two weeks since I came back but so much has happened.
I had jetlag, then a rather intense bout of Melbourne-withdrawal symptoms. Up till last week I was wondering what it will take to get myself settled in. The weather made me swoon. Crowds jostled me around. I got onto a bus and enquired whether it was headed toward Clementi MRT station in English. The lady gave me a stunned look and nodded. Only when I sat down did I realise that even though Singapore prides herself on being multi-lingual/cultural/racial etc; if you are Chinese, please speak Chinese.

I attended to the corn on my big toe. My sister commented that each elaborate corn plaster costs around 80-90 cents. It is fascinating because the plaster does work. My precious feet. They have indeed been through numerous shoe changes, a corn, many blisters, cracked heels and raw exposed slivers of flesh just this year alone.

I realised how strange my family can be. Food prices have been looking northward this year leading to a subsequent rise in bread and hawker food prices, amongst unnoticed others. My mum said, "Oh, we should eat less lah!" Seriously if you saw our four frames, the last time you will say is cut down on food consumption. Then again we are well-trained. If Singapore ever undergoes an emergency food rationing exercise, we can still function like we do right now.

Yet what has been most prominent in my daily schedule thus far is my walk with God. The things which I have been through the past two weeks has been intense and I mean everything this descriptive word implies. Working through past memories of when I was still in Singapore, growing up, and not having stepped on Melbourne's fair shores yet. God was cleaning up so much in my life - not just in relation to the past but also in the way I relate to Him. Trust, my imperfections, grace and truly what grace is (2 Cor 12:9), pride, love, joy, salvation, His death on the cross, forgiveness, asking for forgiveness, humility, peace, rest, comfort, faith faith and faith. And grace. I am running through the whole gamut. And in all seriousness, most of this came only within the past week. Many revelations which I am so so thankful for.

The journey is not over. There is still a stretch to go. Giving up is not even a worthwhile consideration. Suddenly so many things in my life are being put into perspective. I have become more sensitive of late. It does not always seem good to be this sensitive but I am sure there is a greater reason for all this.

Wrote an email to a friend in Melbourne to update her on my latest comings and goings. She replied with this eloquent and beautifully-descriptive passage talking about how I should and can trust God, the true artist who can transform even the holes which I have poked into my canvas as I try to fix my problems into an awesome masterpiece. It is not the artwork it is the artist whose masterly hand brings forth life. As for the surge of memories, it is a change in perspective, now that I am ready and can take a long range view on matters and life, and this I can trust God to grant understanding. Using art terminology works because I can associate with the writing easily. Hmmm... I am wondering now if God opened up this vision in her mind. Must have been beautiful. I will love to have that too!

But then just look out into nature, do you not see His presence filling this earth?
Do you not see the glory behind the sun's smile, the dance of the trees, the rhythm of flapping wings as the birds fly as one?

I am not sure what summer in Singapore this time holds for me. Yet I am certain it is a place which is good.

Draw Me Close

2007-10-21T04:57:00.000-07:00

Draw me close to You
Never let me go
I lay it all down again
To hear You say that I'm Your friend

You are my desire
No one else will do
Cause nothing else could take Your place
To feel the warmth of Your embrace

Help me find the way, bring me back to You

You're all I want
You're all I've ever needed
You're all I want
Help me know You are near

Kelly Carpenter

Brick under 30

2007-10-02T06:09:00.000-07:00

It is less than a month to an earlier-than-usual return to Singapore. I never thought the year would turn out this way. I am not pursuing my Honours degree in July as planned. I bought a ticket back home which made my trips as a whole more expensive than anticipated because I was initially intending to return for good next July.

And the past six months has been a wrestle with God over issues of condemnation, sin, judgment, faith, surrender, commitment, my inheritance and love. The nature of love, what it is - in all its acquired fleshly reality, emotional and mental and spiritual dimensions, undercurrents and my gosh! all those stories in films, novels, poetry and songs which I once thought were cliched, I can now identify with.

The heartaches, the hurts, the joys, the pleasurable moments spent reflecting on good times... all were there. Suddenly I felt I was drawn tightly, relentlessly into the realness of human existence. The questions others tussled with, and which the indifferent me once dismissed as stuff beyond me, are also the questions I now ask.

Many of which I am unable to fully and adequately answer; and some of which I may never be able to.

Sometimes I wished I was back home. A foolish idea that suggested I could escape everything here or at least put things on hold till I came back to Melbourne. If I did.

Pray for me. Full release yeah? Yes please.

Putting the line in Wrinkle

2007-09-09T03:18:00.000-07:00

Sharon, Krista and I were taking a long walk up Royal Parade to Doreen's house for an Annual Dinner 2007 cum birthday celebration.

It was Saturday night and we were having girl-chat all the way. It is truly amazing: we are not the closest of friends though we are well-acquainted enough with each other; yet we can talk non-stop for 45 minutes. The stuff women are made of. Heh, amazing God.

So yeah all of a sudden, out of nowhere popped a couple dressed in their nines, definitely prepared for a posh night-out. The lady had this gorgeous dress. Allow me the indulgence of describing it. It was this soft white affair with delicate straps and which flowed onto an A-line cut just above the knees. There were no prints or patterns save a well-expressed lace-like design that twirled around the hem of the skirt.

So there we were, three girls dressed for a casual party a church friend organised [I was the worse-for-wear in t-shirt, cardigan, slacks and sneakers], making rather audible sounds upon spotting gorgeous dress.

Wah!!! That's a really pretty dress! It looks fantastic!
We did this all the way from 8 metres away till we passed the couple.

And the silly male partner of the lady began to protectively put his arm around her shoulders and say - I know, she is very pretty!

Erm we were talking about the dress. And yes she is attractive. But hey, we're girls, and most absolutely straight!
Oh but if what you really wanted was for us to say your girlfriend is attractive, just be obvious, we would not have declined the invitation. ^^

Woke up on the wrong side of the bed

2007-09-02T22:32:00.000-07:00

Today I had two pieces of sushi for lunch - in typical mutant Aussie fashion (meaning garguantan). I ate away as I watched No Reservations with my friends.

I took, I would roughly guess, nearly an hour if not more to finish them up. I was not even keen on eating up each rice grain.

Losing my appetite?

I pray not. But today is one of those days which is as dreary as the rain-slicked Melbourne outside my apartment.

Usually I love the rain. I find it poetic, beautiful and refreshing, if not a bit inconvenient. Today somehow it is more of the first two - a experiential metaphor for what I'm feeling inside yet inside so awe-inspiring.

Jesus my Lord, I know You are standing next to me in this.

When you are on the stretcher

2007-08-26T19:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.elevationchurch.com.au/mp3/kathytestimony.mp3

This is a powerful sermon from Kathy Abraham of Elevation Church in Brisbane. She read from Mark chapter 2.

A few things I took with me:
That we are truly the church of God, each one of us living, breathing and being. When others look at us they see our dispositions, and will either feel drawn to and welcomed by our faith and hospitality; or turned off and distanced by us.

Never be afraid to get onto the stretcher. You do not have to pretend to hold everything together. Let pride go and lie on the stretcher if you realise you truly need help. However getting on that stretcher is just the first step. If no one is there to carry that stretcher you are on; when you are alone in your grief and pain, how are you going to get to Jesus?
Was there not four men who carried the paralysed man and lowered him from the roof that he may reach Jesus?

Do not let pride blind your eyes. The things we say which we so often take for granted have enormous power. Do we not know that the enemy can latch onto this and use it against us?

How do we truly stand by our brothers and sisters when they are going through a tough patch? Judge and ostracise them? Say 'grace' but not show any compassion toward them? Have we not fully understood the power of prayer?

A day in the life of

2007-08-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

Lux who is on an extended 6 month break.

Scene - Apartment 923 in a block of student apartments in Carlton, Melbourne.
8-9 am
Her brain clicks into gear. She hears her housemate waking up, entering the toilet, bathing, blowing dry her hair. Housemate runs down the stairs because she is late. No brekkie. Sunflower wind chime on door handle sounds as she runs out.
9-11 am
One of the most challenging times of the day. Lux negotiates the options of switching on her mobile phone, checking out the time and deciding whether or not to get up. The decision-making process is a protracted one and can take up to 2 hours, by which time the sun is shining a-bright and Lux is getting lethargic from immobility.
So what does she do with lethargy? Toss her moo-moo around. Kick her socks off. Lies face-flat on pillow. Flailing her arms around. In the end, more lethargy.
11-12 noon
Generally quick prayer. Then she wonders - should she pray longer? Sets kettle on boil and heads to the toilet. Comes back and preps brekkie. Says grace and prays for wisdom, understanding and revelation as she reads her daily bread. Devotions!
Fast forward to 12pm
Lux is actually rather tired but still she perseveres on in front of the computer screen. Chatting is rather interesting. She hits the sheets about half past one after talking with her Father.

So what warrants this post? I guess it has been on my mind for a while already. My daily cycle did not use to be like that. I would wake up at 9 to 10 in the morning and leave it as it is, not dilly dally for another hour.
And I certainly do not like the guilt which enters whenever I do not pray at great great lengths at the start of the day and at the end. Does the length of prayer matter? And does it matter whether or not I respond to the Word in devotion-writing or just contemplation? Somehow I seem to think that the latter is more 'appropriate' and if not done in that manner, feel a bit awful.
Religious spirit? I have to pray against this and pray instead for discernment to realise that discipline is not enforced by an angry, distant Father but rather a posture that brings me in adoration to the feet of my loving Father.
There is something good in routine but not when it suffocates me. I refuse to be a prey to the enemy.
Come on Lux! A return to your earlier days when you had a healthier daily routine is possible!

Teeth are strong

2007-08-17T04:48:00.000-07:00

lux says:
you know what?!
lux says:
the nutcracker is coming
bbad says:
0_o
bbad says:
what is a nutcracker?
bbad says:
who is he
bbad says:
0_0
lux says:
its a ballet
lux says:
but the nutcracker is sthg you use to crack nuts '''
bbad says:
or
bbad says:
cud b the name of a famous wrestler
bbad says:
nutcracker..

Off center

2007-08-15T21:30:00.000-07:00

My folks just departed for Singapore yesterday after a five and a half day whirlwind tour of Melbourne.
I decided to call home this afternoon just to check if all is fine and dandy. Thank God all is as we have prayed for.
There were also a few things which happened to them upon touch down that turned my lips the right way up.

My aunt related to me an incident at the airport:
They got off the plane at 8.56pm Singapore time but took so much time to get out of customs that by the time my relatives caught sight of them, it was 9.40pm. No one really knows what they did in that frame of time (yet) but we suspect it must have been the lures of duty-free shopping.
Catch of the day - their luggage ended up in the unclaimed luggage counter which was considerably far away.

During the call home mum told me xhua's reaction to what we bought for her:
She saw the pair of pyjama pants [very slender stripes in pale blue and white with a wide satin wine-red drawstring ribbon] and went Hehehe.
Then she saw the t-shirt [pale mint green with the Flintstones' babies and a slogan Go at it girl or something] and went Hehehe.
Then she saw the ribbons [one in green, another in purple, both a metre long] and went Hehehe.
And then she went off to school.

A few years down the road all these incidents will seem very inconsequential, and they do seem a tad inconsequential even right now. However the degree of relevancy and importance is not the reason why I recount them on this blog.

Gifts, as they are.

2007-08-05T18:32:00.000-07:00

A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted. As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father purchased the car.

Finally on the morning of his graduation his father called him into his private study. He told him how proud he was to have such a fine son and how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped gift box.

Curious but somewhat disappointed the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible with his name embossed in gold. Angrily, he raised his voice to his father and said, "With all your money you give me a Bible?" He stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.

Years passed and the young man became successful in business. He had a beautiful home and wonderful family but realising his father was very old, thought perhaps he should go to him. He had not seen him since graduation day.

Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away and willed all his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things. When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to search his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible just as he had left it years ago. With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. His father had carefully underlined a verse - Matthew 7:11,

'And if you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father which is in heaven, give to those who ask Him?'

As he read those words, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation and the words... PAID IN FULL.

How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not packaged as we expected? [source: heartnsouls]

I have been incredibly selfish whether intentionally or not. Often unintentionally so, even though this does not mitigate my selfishness at all. I want so many things in life. Hmmmm... good grades, support net of family and friends, presentable appearance, bargain purchases, considerable talent in non-academic areas amongst others. Thing is I take all these expectations and desires to God, praying for blessing and providence.

Need we pray for His providence? He will always provide. What about blessings? As the story above said, how often do we miss His blessings because we have become blinded by our own expectations?

My convocation day draws nigh. To me it seems to be just another day. To my parents it will be all they have worked so hard for throughout my life. Their sweat-earned labour, the sacrifices they made in terms of time, effort, rest; and possibly the biggest sacrifice - sending their daughter off to Australia that she may pursue her desired course, alone. For me it was: Whoopee! Freedom to do what I want to do (dropping Psychology for History of Art is kinda radical in Asia). Semester after semester I went through the mill, churning out essays and passing all my subjects. So I think I did them proud by getting through the education circus alright and not morphing into some spendthrift in Melbourne.

But graduation seems to be just another day.
I am missing the point, ain't I? My parents gave so much that I may have what they did not have when they were my age. The opportunities, the freedom to pursue what I want because they have financially provided a way out for me, the trust they have in me that I can come here and lead my independent single life. A lifetime's worth of blessings which I have either taken for granted and assumed as natural privileges or grown ignorant of. I believe my generation is one which though exceedingly blessed is also indifferent, apathetic and selfish.

And if you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father which is in heaven, give to those who ask Him?

So here I am thinking, if my parents gave much of what I have in life on earth thus far, what more my Father in heaven? He who waited for me for nearly 13 years since the desire to know Him more was planted in my heart in primary school, till that day when I welcomed Him wholly into my life. Throughout all those years He never let up. It is like He always brought me to places where He could speak into my heart, whether I knew it or not.
My presbyterian kindergarten; catholic primary school; Christian friends in secondary school; friend's church play during Valentine's Day where the characters kept saying Me. Me! Me? Me. (about human selfishness); those private visits to Novena Church; my maids; JC friends and their faith... and finally university here.

More than grades, achievements and meeting the standards, He desires for me to be happy, to know that at least one person loves me and is always cheering me on. That is a lot.

And familial love =)

Grace

2007-07-29T17:32:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night I wanted to blog on the importance of showing others how much you love them, and on how each day we live is a gift of God's grace. However a faulty internet connection in Arrow prevented me from doing so.
Today a piece of shocking news came in the morning through Rosemary, or more specifically, her mobile phone. And I find myself blogging about this issue nonetheless.

Her aunt was around the end of the second trimester of her pregnancy. Her placenta burst. The baby is safe though prematurely born. Its mother however did not make it through. She was 36.

At times like these it dawns on us the transience of life. Her aunt's last and greatest gift to this world was bearing the child in her womb lovingly for months. Now we have a barrage of questions bombarding our mind - who is going to nurse the baby in its infancy? will the child grow up blaming itself for causing its mum's death? what is left of the two other children? what role will the father play now that his wife is gone? when things happen that go beyond our comprehension, how do we wrestle with the sudden loss of someone in whom we see something beautiful and good?

I realised that when unpredictable deaths occur and everyone sits around to reminisce his/her impact on our lives, we pay greater attention to their good points than their bad. We like to see their redeeming factors as being those which cause us to remember them. For me, occasions like - he was a good father. even though he chain smoked he loved his wife and family a lot. Or she was a loving grandmother who took care of her grandchildren in what ways she knew... etc.

A while back it struck me how that we do make assumptions in our lives - assumptions which have naturalised into the 'expected'. Last night I made plans with David to watch Amazing Grace at cinema Nova. That I can slot this into my (pretty empty) schedule reveals how I have assumed that both of us will be available at 2.10pm today to watch the film. What if either one of us never made it?

Another case in point: I call a friend back home saying I will be back in December to celebrate Christmas with the gang. What if we never had the opportunity to meet not because of a raincheck but because that which was unexpected indeed happened?

Have we taken each other for granted? Assuming that life moves on in a linear fashion. It is not that God is angry with us that He takes away loved ones. Sometimes things happen even though we so do not want them to. Well we should not be finding ways of divorcing ourselves from each other, in some vainglorious attempt to detach ourselves from any relationship which may hurt us if circumstances suddenly hit us. Should we not seek to show love to those we love and who love us?

Lord I thank You that You have preserved the lives of those I love and who love me. Let not a day go without us knowing that it is amazing love that holds our relationships together. May love be shown and demonstrated and not just said. For love is experienced and believed in. I have faith Father that Your love will abound in the lives of my family and friends. Your grace breathes life into us each day. Father we are thankful because in all ways we have been undeserving. Amen.

Show Me How To Love Like You Have Loved Me

2007-07-29T04:49:00.000-07:00

Today during the prayer session after sermon, God pressed something dear and important into my heart. It was regarding an issue I knew mattered but not to the point that I understood or even came close to fathoming its relevance to my walk as a Christian.

After climbing out of a period of heartache and wrestling with the intricate twists of relationships, I have come to question what it truly means to understand my worth as a woman in this world, who has been called a daughter of God.

This generation and the generations before are still grappling with realising what it means to have men as leaders at home, at work, and in relationships. I never believed women are made to 'rule' this world alone with grit and gumption that recalls misplaced male power than reveal feminine character. Why? What has gone wrong in the process? What is wrong with possessing and displaying feminine beauty and its own strength?

Men have long learned how to 'master' women's beauty to their own advantage. Not that they intended bad right from the start. A lot of it is how we are naturally wired. How many times have women just submitted to how men want to see ourselves, offering our beauty and our bodies to them thinking this gets us their attention or love? But we know we desire something more meaningful in relationships, not that physical attraction is bad but such pleasure is not enough. We know that the touch can never fully allow our beauty to be appreciated in all its depth and breadth.

Are you afraid of our beauty? Are you afraid of your own beauty? How many relationships have you gone through which have gradually eaten away at your wholeness? That you can be vulnerable, emotional, trembling, real, strong, assured and still a revelation of God's awesome beauty both inside and out?

How many times have men exploited our softer side, our bodies, and stepped on our femininity as they try to find their standing in the world? To equate dominance with strength? We are more than a pretty face on a magazine cover or an exposed body in a pornographic video or a body delivered straight out of a cosmetic surgeon's room. Not just a rape victim, an abused wife, a teenager who has had one night stand too many. It does not even have to be so dramatic. The whistle on the streets, the lustful stares, the sneering, teasing, verbal insults - so much that we have brushed aside and taken as something natural and tolerable.

I am not advocating a violent backlash against the male population. For so long they have tried to prove their power by diminishing women, not realising that we do not stand in opposition to one another but rather in partnership. Men are created to lead and women to support them. But when they lose their focus and are unable to find the purpose to drive them forward, we find ourselves thrust into the role of leading.

So where am I now? Today it came to me: we cannot look to each other for answers. Both of us want the other gender to fill up the part of us we find lacking. But we are made to complement not to merely supplement. And women have been hurt so many times by the things or words men have said or done.

He is calling us back to Him that we may find wholeness and direction once more. Relationships are meant to lift us up not pull us down. The world has mismanaged beauty. It has either focused exceedingly compellingly on the physical or have cultivated a talk which goes like - I don't care about the physical it is just the inside that matters.

But when the inside is alive does it not show on the outside? Your smile sets your face aglow, your hair is blazing with glorious strength, your body expresses confidence, you pour out love, tenderness, grace and your eyes know its direction. Leaving your brokenness, disappointments and heartaches with Him that you can step into the world as a woman made just the way you are. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. One part of you is not made to be divorced from the others. You are no lesser than the female role models you have grown up admiring. You are more because there is no one else in the world like you and what is there to be ashamed of? The Creator of this world, the One who created stars and call them by name loves you. He loves you and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, He will not do to win your love.

This generation needs fathers, fathers of substance and character. Women are the ones who give birth to these fathers. Together with men we will nurture these fathers that we will become a generation that before anything else, knows what love and hope are.

Are you... Chinese?

2007-07-26T18:42:00.000-07:00

Ooooh wheee! So CLASSIC! Eeeeee. I watched this when I was around 8 or so.
Every Sunday the whole family would gather around the box to partake in what was almost a nationwide pastime of tracking 小草's adventures. It is like this weepy soap opera where most people who watch it will end up having their hearts moved. Moved.
Everyone was in love with 小草, saying she is so adorable, lovable and pretty. She's quite, isn't she? I kept on singing along to this song so much so that now, I can still sing along! Roar!!!

Then then then! Lux being nostalgic is also going to attempt to dance! Chinese dance some more! I have not done anything like this since primary school. With an umbrella no less for my church's annual dinner next Saturday. The best thing about this is that she has to choreograph her steps. Erm I have never danced with this thingy before. Pray for me. I do not want to look like a duck twirling an instrument far more graceful than she is. I am dancing along to Jay Chou's Ju Hua Tai from the Curse of the Golden Flower.

And then and then, Lux found out on this day of small surprises that 邰正宵 who sang 一千零一夜 and 九百九十九朵玫瑰 also sang this song 爱情十字架. And his name is Samuel. My father really liked the song about 999 roses though it is rather tragic. Now I want to download it. But most of his more famous songs are all a bit sad, usually about love.

Can't people write happy love songs? Love is not just tragic, melodramatic, sentimental, nostalgic and some poisoned fruit that should remain untouched. Love lifts me up, sets my heart alight and allows life to course through my very being. What is love for you?

Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy

2007-07-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

I took a part of this song out because I do not agree with a line that says He is full of pity, love and power. I don't think He pities. He empathises. At the heart of it nonetheless is a beautiful song urging us to return to Jesus. He is not waiting for you to become perfect, flawless and beautiful before we can go to Him. He will embrace you just as you are - poor, needy, broken, upset, torn apart, lonely, unwell, devastated, depressed, unwanted.
When you have no home in this world and not even those closest to you want to ever be close to you again, you can find room in His heart. Do not wait. Like the lyrics which say 'if you tarry til you're better, you'll never come at all', do not let the problems arise and simmer within a part of your soul. Pain and bitterness and anger will rot the bones, they are not the food your soul wants to eat. Do not think your troubles are too difficult for Him to handle. Is it not better to have someone, friend or family, to help us through hard times? And Jesus who we can call our Friend and Brother and Saviour will so much more stand by us in difficult situations. Even if people tire of helping us, when their advice to us seems to make us run into brick walls, or they reject us as being bothersome and hopeless - He is there.
He will hold out hope for you. Best thing is what He promises He will fulfill. His hope is a confident assurance by faith that it will happen.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. - Matthew 11

I will arise and go to Jesus
He will embrace me in His arms
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O, there are ten thousand charms

Come, ye thirsty, come and welcome
God's free bounty glorify
True belief and true repentance
Every grace that brings you nigh

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden
Lost and ruined by the fall
If you tarry 'til you're better
You will never come at all

I will arise and go to Jesus
He will embrace me in His arms
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O, there are ten thousand charms

See Him Prostate in the garden
On the ground your Maker lies
On the bloody tree, behold him
Sinner, will this not suffice?"

Lo! the incarnate God ascended
Pleads the merit of his blood
Venture on him, venture wholly
Let no other trust intrude

When encountered with problems, we have grown adapted to this cycle of struggling to understand what happened and seeking a way to resolve it. It is such a human way of managing affairs. When I was just outright down, I strove to understand the complexity of my emotions. They were not as simple as I wanted them to be at the time. I wrestled with the ill decisions I made in the past, trying to find solutions to rectify the situation. I was in a constant tussle with myself. But who could provide not just answers but more importantly the comfort that I needed? My mum cannot be hear 24/7 neither can my closest friends. Even if they are not unwilling they get tired, sleepy, mentally exhausted too.
If you are in such a place as this where you desire so much to be your hope in something stronger than anyone or anything around you, won't you join me in a prayer?

Dear Father Lord in Heaven,
Thank You for sending Your Son Jesus down to us, how He overcame the cross and the grave that our souls may be saved. Today we come to You broken, weary and in need of a fresh touch in our lives. There is so much that we do not understand, so much that we want to get rid of. We have been trying so hard to set things right, to get our lives back in order but we have not been able to.
Yet we will look to You Father. You who promised that we can put all our hopes in You. We will not wait till we feel better or think we are better. We want You to make things good, to take away all that is weighing us down. We know You will never mistreat our hearts or leave us to rot. The healing that You start in us You will also bring to a complete finish.
Thank You for a friend as Jesus, a brother, a saviour. He who believes in us and loves us and prays for us. May Your love Abba Father just flow through us, Your beloved children right now.
Amen!

Mum!

2007-07-21T01:55:00.000-07:00

I want my mum by my side now!
I am down with fever. It is not super high but I feel bleh nonetheless. When chills run down your torso even though you are cuddled under a comforter with three layers of clothes and the heater switched on.
And then with visa applications it is a muddle right now. Everything is confusing. Red-tape drives me up the wall. Lord please sort out the mess for me! I do not know what to do or which steps to take.
After nearly a day of crying my eyes are still a bit puffy. I did not know making a decision regarding a relationship can be so strenuous and emotionally, mentally and physically demanding. Letting go is easier said than done. It really is not a simple phrase.

Mum I want you here, even though I am 22 and nearly fully an adult. I just want to remain a child at times like these. I take comfort in this.

Please keep me in prayer all of you who read this blog and call upon Him as Abba Father.

Lord I want to experience Your grace and love afresh everyday. I want to know deep in my heart that You are enough for me. Father do not take away family and friends away from me in this time. I need them. Above all I need You. Heal the hurts in me. May the blood of Jesus wash over me and heal me of my ailment. Lord You are faithful. You know what I am going through. Your daughter is hungry for You. Come into my heart God I pray.
Amen.

2007-07-19T23:14:00.000-07:00

Things move very fast indeed yet above all, He is still there. Nearly 4 months of shuttling back and forth, seeing emotions rise and fall, going to places I have never gone to before.
Today I was sitting before God, so broken and downcast in my spirit. And He came swiftly like a dove, pouring grace and peace into my heart once more. Oh how I ached to experience love. And He delivered me. There I sat crying and crying and crying.
He spoke and I heard! How long has it been since I last heard Him? Why???
Because you were too busy, He said.
And He spoke His love story to me:

I will always be here for you. I love you. I will never forsake you, even if everyone else in the world does. Come rest in me. Find rest in me. For my yoke is gentle and light.

Because you have not rejected me and sought me, I will come to you.

Mice and Mousse

2007-07-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

I like guys. They tickle me sometimes. Where did they get their humour from?

Case in point.

My friend, who demanded to remain anonymous, recently astounded me with his response.

Me: There is something I need to buy from Safeway [a hypermarket in Melbourne].
Male friend: What is it?
Me: I told you I have my dai yi ma [the female monthly] right?
Male friend: Oh yeah! Is it that necessary?
Me: Yes it is necessary.

Male friend: Chocolate ah?
Me: Erm no!
Male friend: Then what?

Me: Erm... sanitary napkins?!

And he said it all with good intentions.

My pas de deux

2007-07-04T17:37:00.000-07:00

with Art History as an academic subject, has somehow, drawn to a close.

I do not know when the next opportunity will arrive again. Maybe it never will. Maybe I will feel all warm, fuzzy and nostalgic in years to come.

Right now it is enough of academic rigour and an intense consultation of anything with lots of words. The background has been very useful no doubt. But I never believed art was intended to be of reproduced illustrations in thick tomes, living a cloistered life away from the public.

You think only wealthy elites, trained professionals, professed connoisseurs can access art of any kind? I believe that is a lie society has cultivated to maintain some elusive status quo.

Having said that I have at many times thoroughly enjoyed studying about art, all ironies included.

Talking about ironies... today I received the results of my last batch of subjects for my degree. Years back, after a semester's worth of Art History B under the inspired direction of Dr. Anthony White, I was super keen on signing up for his Modernist Avant-Gardes. However as it was offered only once every two years, I had to wait till my last semester before I could take it up.

In between I shuffled from subject to subject awaiting the jewel at the end. When the time finally came, I gave up other sociology (my other major) subjects which timetables clashed with Avant-Gardes' in order that I could keep the latter.

Mid-way into the course I realised it was nothing like what I expected. This is not the fault of the lecturer/tutor and my tute mates. Rather it was my change of heart. I no longer harboured any desire to reading more about politics, sexual politics, war, abstraction and the -modernisms.

I thought nothing would change. Apparently I was the one who did.

When the results came out, it turned out that I scored the lowest for this subject in my entire Art History major. While it failed to drag my average below the H2A border, all my other H1s were probably trying their hardest to sustain their buoyancy in light of this deviant's lacklustre performance.

Father, I think I am ready to put aside academics for now. New phase, new purpose?

Melbourne Mobster

2007-07-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

You know you simply have to get this.
When was the last time you walked out of your apartment on a chilly rainy Melburnian day and wished your brolly would be sturdier, would not flip inside-out, and would not drag you along the streets making you crash embarrassingly into others who are fighting their thingamajigs just like you are?
Then check out this awesome Dutch-designed darling. It can withstand wind up to a force of 10. It is asymmetrical [tell me this isn't what attracted you in the first place, because it sure did mine]. And as the webbie for SENZUmbrellas boast it allows you to play with the wind and not be played around by it!

SENZ Umbrellas is proud to introduce the first game-changing innovations in umbrella design.

Coolness!

'If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him' - 2 Timothy 2:12

2007-07-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

From Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

We must not imagine that we are suffering for Christ, and with Christ, if we are not in Christ. Beloved friend, are you trusting to Jesus only? If not, whatever you may have to mourn over on earth, you are not 'suffering with Christ', and have no hope of reigning with Him in heaven. Neither are we to conclude that all a Christian's sufferings are sufferings with Christ, for it is essential that he be called by God to suffer.

If we are rash and imprudent, and run into positions for which neither providence nor grace has fitted us, we ought to question whether we are not rather sinning than communing with Jesus. If we let passion take the place of judgment, and self-will reign instead of Scriptural authority, we shall fight the Lord's battles with the devil's weapons, and if we cut our own fingers we must not be surprised.

Again, in troubles which come upon us as the result of sin we must not dream that we are suffering with Christ. When Miriam spoke evil of Moses, and the leprosy polluted her, she was not suffering for God. Moreover, suffering which God accepts must have God's glory as its end. If I suffer tht I may earn a name, or win applause, I shall get no other reward than that of the Pharisee.

It is requisite also that love to Jesus, and love to his elect, be ever the mainspring of all our patience. We must manifest the Spirit of Christ in meekness, gentleness, and forgiveness. Let us search and see if we truly suffer with Jesus. And if we do thus suffer, what is our 'light affliction' compared with reigning with Him?

Oh it is so blessed to be in the pillory with Him, that if there were no future reward, we might count ourselves happy in present honour; but when the recompense is so eternal, so infinitely more than we had any right to expect, shall we not take up the cross with alacrity, and go on our way rejoicing?

Please do not hasten to do a direct translation of this passage into my life. I decided to blog this because Spurgeon had so acutely encapsulated many important lessons in a page-full of devotional writing. To work out my salvation with fear and trembling. Yes, indeed.

Of camellias and daisies

2007-06-27T20:04:00.000-07:00

It is a joy to give a smile, and to receive a smile. The best attire anyone can possibly wear is their smile. It is free, generous and contagious. You do not even need a perfect set of teeth or gorgeous lips or freshest breath to spread the joy, though of course having any of the above are surely welcomed.

Today I smiled at the lady in the laundry room and said a cheerful bye as I departed after dumping my laundry in the dryer. She was a really sweet lady because she saw I had use of the dryer while the others were occupied. So she promptly brought out a spare basket and removed the clothes which had just finished drying in one of the dryers so I could dry my damp garments. As she brought them out she realised one of the sweaters were still damp. She opened another dryer which she was using to dry the hotel's towels and popped the sweater into it.

When I came back 45 minutes later she told me my clothes were not completely dry. I told her I didn't have enough coins to start another cycle. She kindly offered to start one for me using the hotel's key. Whoosh! I am so glad, thank God for His blessing through her.

I am so happy!

Signed, Sealed, Delivered with Love

2007-06-24T18:18:00.000-07:00

My God is big, so good, so mighty! He is my God, He is my refuge, He's the Rock on which I stand. He's my fortress, He is my light, He holds the oceans in His hands.
Planetshakers - Big

Last night was a night of breakthrough. All that I have been praying fervently for, hoping so desperately (never underestimate the degree of my desperation) finally came into being last night. Oh the JOY, the PASSION, the EXUBERANCE with which I sang and danced before my King, my Lover, my Saviour. Lord I have been waiting so long for this!

The irony of where I am right now is how, through a brief period of hurt inflicted by someone who professed apparent liking for me, I have come to experience His infinite incomparable love once more. When people, I refer to all including myself, can be careless He is sensitive and sees all in our hearts. While we are selfish and self-righteous, He thinks about us and attends to us with all He has. When we are not wise in the decisions we make, He speaks to us to bring us back on track because even before we knew we had those feelings, He already perceived.

Why would I have settled for second best when He is always here? The briefness of the whole situation is wholly testimony to His amazing grace. I am not fully over it yet but He has stepped in and began awesome healing. So indescribable is this grace and mercy because before this, I have refused Him entry into my heart even though in my spirit I knew the place I gave him should rightfully have been His. Thank God I have not fallen too deep. His love is a love beyond description, beyond comprehension but certainly not beyond the power of experience through communion.

It is my prayer that you will find this love in your life. It has been hard to let go and I am still working through this with Him. But I hope that you will one day find the answers to the questions you have stored in your heart. You are made for great things Jon. This I so sincerely believe. And I am still here as your friend, whatever happens. This is my promise which He has made possible =)

I sense something momentous is arriving. And it will appear in a timely manner, I am sure. Till then please keep me in your prayers. And we'll leave the rest up to Him.

Cruise Control

2007-06-23T07:43:00.000-07:00

Thank You Lord Almighty for friends. When my sister, Sayo and Mum aren't around to hug me I have friends. These awesome brothers and sisters in Christ are such blessings. Thank you all for watching out for me when I was coursing through emotional lows.

Thank you Xinyan, Colin, Peter, David, Jeff for keeping me company during the hotpot and movie marathon night. For girls vs guys jokes, 'Red is Blue' and 'Critters have feelings', for house clearance sales and corny bidding jokes. You all have been so generous with laughter, joy and love. Chick flicks? Critter flicks? Memorable nights come once in a blue moon, so they say.

Thanks Dave for spending the afternoon with me even though Saturday was intended rest day. Thanks for being patient and generous with your time and your friendship. Thank you too for the San Churro treat and the white chocolate. Who would have thought I white would be the 'choc answer' at times like these. And how could chocolate have been lunch? Urgh... but yum! ^^

Thanks Rose for being here for me, for all your joyful laughter and concern for me. Thanks for asking me if I was feeling better when I came back. That meant a lot.

God's love displayed through friendships.

Come Unto Me

2007-06-22T18:31:00.000-07:00

Songs are a gift. Especially when they speak precisely into where you are at the moment. Some moments go on longer than others but the words do not fade in power.
From Nicole C. Mullen

Are you looking for someone to be gentle
With your broken heart your shattered dreams
And are you searching for someone who'll be faithful
To you no matter what life brings
Well I know the maker of the storm the sunrise
He is both the lion and the lamb
He is strong enough to shake all earth and heaven
Yet meek enough to take me as I am.

He says come unto me
All who are weary
And I will give you rest
Bring what hurts
Bring your scars
Bring the load that you carry
And I will give you rest

Are the clouds above your head oh so heavy
Bursting with showers of despair
And do you struggle under more then you can carry
Has life given more then you can bare
And would you like to trade your failures in for victories
Like piles of ashes in from piles of gold
And can you fall down like a child who is helpless
So He can pick you up and make you whole.

He says come unto me
All who are weary
And I will give you rest
Bring what hurts
Bring your scars
Bring the load that you carry
And I will give you
la la la la la la
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la
la la la la la la
la la la la la la
He says come unto me
All who are weary
And I will give you rest
Bring what hurts
Bring your scars
Bring the load that you carry
And I will give you rest

That bump on the road

2007-06-22T17:09:00.000-07:00

Last night, for possibly the fourth night in a month I felt my heart pounding as I laid on the sheets. The first three times was because I knew there was something I had not taken to God but still I persisted, at the expense of bad nights and tiresome days.
The fourth time was for something I never experienced before. And I woke up, having this urge to bludgeon someone's head. I mean that half-jokingly, half-idunnowhat. Last night all the emotions which I know are not good came. Hurt, frustration, anger, fear and condemnation. But I kept on praying as I tossed and turned, asking Him to cover me with His grace.
And then I read the Psalms. I know I could trust Him to speak through King David.
Have you been honest? Because He really comes through when we are honest.

Psalm 51
Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me...

My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.

Psalm 38
Lord, do no rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.

All my longings lie open before you, Lord;
my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart pounds, my strength fails me;
even the light has gone from my eyes.

Lord, do not forsake me;
do not be far from me, my God.
Come quickly to help me,
my Lord and my Saviour.

Psalm 70
But may all who seek you
rejoice and be glad in you;
my those who long for your saving help always say,
'The Lord is great!'

But as for me, I am poor and needy;
come quickly to me, O God.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Lord, do not delay.

Thank You Lord for being patient with me even when the choices I made were not exactly wise. Thank You for Your grace. Oh Lord I can't describe how thankful I am for this. For Your grace. Without it I would have fallen so bad so hard, and dragged others along with me. Thank You for watching over me. Thank You Holy Spirit for comforting me, especially when it can be such a struggle with the flesh. Lord do not forsake me, do not leave me, and may I never even be tempted to leave You, nor cherish that thought in my heart. You are my All in All.

Thanks to you for listening to me, for being the recipient of the whole shebang immediately after it hit me. I respect the position you are in at the moment, and I apologise if I have indubitably put you in unimpressive circumstances. You are a great friend, in innumerable ways, maybe your mind is currently unable to fathom this, but you are not as empty as you think you are.

Thank you Colin for being here for me. As a guy friend and above all as a brother in Christ. Thank you for your wise advice and your generous heart which has prayed for a confused sister, even though you are not in the best of situations. When I have climbed out of this a bit more, allow me the honour to listen and pray for you.

Thanks David for just being there to listen, and to advice. Hahahaha somehow what you say on msn lifts up my spirits in ways unexpected. You have a way of seeing problems and offering your perspectives which inspire slight tinges of mirth in me.

I feel better now that I have written things out, not all things but a fair bit. It is a release. Nothing is resolved. But never ever underestimate the power of seeing the positive in all situations. And He has blessed me knowing I can never do this by myself through friends, friends and friends. I know I am not walking this alone. Thanks to you all.
The smile on my face now is one of joy. Thank You, I know this is Your gift to me this morning.

The beauty of words

2007-06-21T18:58:00.000-07:00

I am a girl who loves words, especially words so beautifully strung together as to evoke powerful states of being.
Charles Spurgeon includes these verses in his daily devotions which oftentimes stir in me a stronger response than what I've read for the day.
There is so much wisdom.

'When the world my heart is rending
With its heaviest storm of care,
My glad thoughts to heaven ascending,
Find a refuge from despair.
Faith's bright vision shall sustain me
Till life's pilgrimage is past;
Fears may vex and troubles pain me,
I shall reach my home at last.'

Barley

2007-06-21T17:53:00.000-07:00

I love drinking barley water. I am boiling it now. One of the perks of being an international student is 'doing it yourself' whereby you crave a certain something but no caring family member is nearby to help you make it. So you mess around and hopefully burn nothing, undercook nothing, overcook nothing that you can arrive at something similar to what you're craving for.
And when you are done, bless others with what you have made too!

If all goes on well I should have barley water to drink in 10 minutes time, starting now! ^^ Hope it is drinkable because I promised two friends a cup (at least) each.

Talking about all things warm, milky and memorable [check out the M's which roll off your lips] I have actually started my inquiry on internships. And it has yielded some positive results thus far. I emailed the lecturers whose subjects I was enrolled in this semester and they have gotten back to me with suggestions of who else in the department I can approach.
For those not informed I am currently going through a semi-rut because my initial plans of pursuing honours are next to nought. I experienced academic fatigue/burnout during the semester. It was a bit upsetting to be honest, seeing how I no longer had that keen an interest in writing and reading art history material as I once used to. And when I mean 'used to' it is quite significant.
I remember reading a book on Van Gogh years back from cover to cover, poring over each painting reproduced on the pages and paying attention to each detail. Research was invigorating and I enjoyed reading and reading and reading on all things relevant. Thing was - I excelled in it. Even without background knowledge I did well. I remember sitting in for my first art history lecture in JC1 when Mr Liew and the others were entertaining a lively conversation on the Realists and Manet and I just sat there, wondering what have I landed myself into. But things got significantly better from then on.
Now reading becomes just another such thing - reading for the sole purpose of completing an essay. Essay writing has become an occupation for me. Get this done, hopefully well, and you will be rewarded with good grades. ladeedah that's the way uni life goes.
And when you get cynical about how lecturers, tutors and professors can keep the studying going on for years, you know you have completely missed the point. This is their passion and it keeps them going. What is your passion?

So internships is probably the way to go for now. I am still not sure about how to extend my visa in Australia but that's jumping ahead of myself. If doors open in terms of securing a place in a gallery of museum around the city, preferably, as an intern then I will think of where to go from there.
I am praying that I will qualify for an internship because right now it is the best option. It is not full-time, might pay a small stipend, give me time and space to pursue my other interests and most importantly give me greater insight into how the industry works. Oh Lord I commit this entire time into Your hands. Let Your will be done. Bless me with the faith and a peace of heart as I await the fulfillment of the plans You have installed for me. May I not fret or be anxious but simply trust in Your good will and awesome power. Thank You for being here with me. Amen

The barley is ready! Almost like 15 minutes after I said it'll be done in 10. Well it is winter afterall. Everything is running at a slower pace?

None But Jesus

2007-06-08T20:08:00.000-07:00

In the quiet, in the stillness
I know that You are God
In the secret of Your presence
I know there I am restored

When You call
I won’t refuse
Each new day again
I’ll choose

There is no one else for me
None but Jesus
Crucified to set me free
Now I live to bring Him praise

In the chaos, in confusion
I know You’re Sovereign still
In the moment of my weakness
You give me grace to do Your will

When You call I won’t delay
This my song through all my days

All my delight is in You Lord
All of my hope, all of my strength
All my delight is in You Lord
Forever more

It is amazing when you wake up in the morning and as you sit on your bed, taking a short pause before the day begins, the melody and starting words to a song start trickling into your head.
And then you realise each word in that song speaks volumes to you.
I remember the promise I made to Him on my birthday in front of friends who witness it, and to whom I am also accountable to as brothers and sisters in Christ.

All my delight is in You Lord
All of my hope, all of my strength
Forever more

The 'all' there is not taken for granted. It means everything it is made to be - all in all. And it certainly is not as easy arriving at this point and saying, yes it is going to be all or nothing.

Oh Lord Jesus You are beautiful beyond measure.

When stars will fall from their place to be diamonds at Your feet
And mountains bow under the soft touch of Your hand
Lord, the winds are a-stirring with songs of Your glory and peace
The seas part as You step in.

After Eve

2007-06-01T21:19:00.000-07:00

Some things you keep, some things you claim as being yours only. Cryptic? Hopefully toward the end it'll all start making more sense.
Mensus and all the attendant problems. I do not know why it is more bothersome this time round. Usually I get through it with little worry except leaving telltale marks on seats wherever I go to. Perhaps its end of semester stress, and in addition last-semester-before-graduation pressure, that has made the cramps, the tiredness, the moodiness more felt and experienced than usual. Womanly woes - what an abstruse phenomenon indeed. Great thanks to an understanding housemate and a dear friend who went out of his way to make a pot of hot chocolate ^^ Appreciate it.
So yeah it is not all the time that we whip out the 'time of the month' argument as an excuse we can exercise as God-given rights... but it, happens. Hah.
This I inherited from Eve.

And then I thought about that which I claim as being what I want to keep as mine, not just a situation of 'being female, therefore...' but as something bigger than just being born this way. The anticipation of what will come when this semester ends is mysterious as it is invigorating.
I signed a one year contract for an apartment that came in such miraculously simple ways that it can only be God. Let us see: I was off to view another apartment and when I was downstairs saw a friend who said a mutual friend was returning home and might be interested in renting out the apartment she bought. (breathless? sorry, run-on sentence)
Next day I hear news from a good friend that she has spoken to the girl, that I can view the apartment, and the rental rate is good. I view it, we all have this common female understanding that a deal is in order. And just the day before my friend, a floor coordinator, received confirmation/encouragement for the upcoming semester and her plans for the floor team. Now that I am living on her floor... no excuses to say no right? God is GOOOODDDDD

So here is me, signing on for something even without a clear blueprint from Him as to the months upcoming. But I sign it in faith.
This morning as I lay on the bed unable to enter deeper sleep I started thinking:
decorating my new living space
drawing and painting flowers, potted plants and scenery
dancing
theatre acting
working in a gallery
volunteering
embarking on mini craft projects

Hmmm there is this much bigger plan for me, right now I feel a bit out of it. But if I dare reach out, what will my little finger alight on?

vocation

2007-05-27T21:33:00.000-07:00

Lux is resisting. I procrastinate. I know I ought to fast to receive a clearer picture of where I am headed toward post-graduation. Yet somehow I put it off, day after day, saying I'll get down to it once I am done with this essay. And the essay plods along because I am experiencing a semester-long bout of academic fatigue. I attribute it to a general disinterest in all four subjects I am taking and a growing awareness that, hey is this going to be of any tangible use in the future?
Not that I hate Arts, please do not get me wrong, I love it and I have breathed it for more than half a decade already. And I still intend to pursue something related, give or take the form it comes in.
So where am I headed? Why do I resist/procrastinate? What do I want? I do not know. The lethargy is getting to me. My emotions are jumbled up and my mind is in a whirl. I want time out from assignments and all. I just want to spend time alone with Him. People, commitments, situations notwithstanding.
Have I heard Him speak? Have I heard my heart speak?

Pillow talk

2007-05-21T21:37:00.001-07:00

A shout out to all my girl friends in Melbourne:
I need some gf therapy which typically involves aimless walking, gorging on dessert, window shopping, seemingly endless chatting for hours, giggling giggling and giggling.
Clara ahhhh - I need to pop into a gallery, shop for (useless) art materials, enjoy the cool autumnal breeze, or chance upon a random free art event.
Esther - I need to drop into a cafe, grab a neat warm cuppa and chat the hours away. There's still much about Hongkong I want to hear from you about.
Meiling - please at least once before Singapore beckons with all its humidity and oil-choked yummylicious hawker food again.
Mel - the dinner... the dinner!!! The much-delayed dinnerrrrr grrrrr! ^^
Steph - you know we have to, but where to start? In Arrow perhaps?
Time is too short to make lists like this one. But when do you all reckon is a good time?

When you bow

2007-05-02T17:50:00.000-07:00

Our Father which art is heaven
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth.
Give us day by day our daily bread.
And forgive us our sins;
for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us.
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil.

There is such poetic simplicity in the King James translation. Today I discovered once more the power in a simple prayer. It is easy to get waylaid into thinking there is a lingo which is best to adopt in prayer, a Christian compendium of 'appropriate words and phrases' that when used draws us closer to God.
But He never said we had to pray in spectacular language; He rather us pray with spectacular faith.
It becomes a bit like a health-check for your faith. Are you on religious steroids? Do you need a fresh prescription? Has someone, something or some occasion fed you with a placebo which seriously does you little better? Is there a benign growth you need surgery to permanently remove? Do you realise you are at all in need of the Doctor's expert touch?
And eloquent prayer without the heart can be a stumbling block not just for non-Christians but also for fellow Christians, and more importantly for us. Thinking that lengthy prayers can cover all ground and choice words thrown in for good measure is sufficient for our prayers to be heard by Him. Of course He hears. When we call upon the Name of the Lord He hears. When someone calls our name we hear, don't we?
But He is more than just a Name. He has given us hearts which beat, which give us life. And likewise, as we are made in His image, He has a heart. When we pray and not put our heart into it, we grieve Him and hurt His heart. We could call and call upon His Name but without the heart, He will not respond.
Is it because we cherish fear? jealousy? envy? anger? frustration? pride? doubt? And because our hearts are what we cherish, do we pray with the same things? - fear, jealousy, envy, anger, frustration, pride, doubt? Prayer is meant to liberate us and set us on the upward pathway of freedom. It was never intended to stumble us and others around. Have we cheapened prayer to the point of a few obligatory sentences uttered routinely, just because?
I am certainly not God, no angel, not a perfect person. The reason why I have that much to say above is because I myself have also stumbled in the above. As Jesus taught us how to pray, I need to learn once more how to bow my head and ask, in faith with heart, and seek first His kingdom.

Father Lord, I repent for bringing a part of the junk I have collected from this world into my prayer life. My conversations with You should be holy, sanctified and edifying. I am sorry that I have been stubborn and chose to be ignorant when I should have sought You. Forgive me for my iniquities and blot out my transgressions. Make me whole again.
Father I want You to be the One leading me in prayer by Your Spirit in me, and not me striving to make sense of my situation. Make me soft in my heart and open in my spirit to hear from You, to seek Your voice O Lord of Jacob. Give me clean hands and a pure heart, who will not lift my soul up to another.
Father not by myself but with You. You who are the Holiest of holies, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, in whom I find my strength and portion.
Thank You Lord, all praise and glory and honour be to You. Amen!

Compiling a thesis

2007-04-22T00:27:00.000-07:00

I am 21 and legally deemed an adult in the societies I live in. Well I believe the definition of maturity is not easily explained. It is certainly more than performing initiation rites, experiencing some 'things' which most others have not done yet or will ever do, and talking louder than your actions and attitude show.

So I am considered adult... I did not particularly look forward to this. It is like a birthday worth planning for, if only because of the company, and everything else... just came and went.

And then 2007 started and a whole host of responsibilities/duties/tasks/errands/things, or whatever you call them, came raining down on me. I wonder if there was a reason why they all came at once, in addition to what I have to do (yes I study. too.). For the past three months it has been packed schedules non-stop.

For posterity sake, I shall list what went on. Please do not take this as a self-referential boast 'See what I did!' because I could never have done if not for God and friends.
- work
- change flight date
- editing mum's resume
- find lost SIM card for Optus
- find apartment
- settle issues with previous apartment (bond, furniture, bills)
- apply for new SIM card for Optus
- go for multiple apartment viewings, calling multiple agents many times
- moving stuff into new apartment
- resolving rent and bond documents/money for new apartment
- apply internet
- computer crashes with internet virus
- scout for Windows recovery cds
- apply for new bank accounts because of lousy HSBC interest rate for savings account
- stocking up apartment with necessities, condiments for cooking
- changing address details for bank and university
- changing semester's subjects taken because of subject clash
- arranging semester timetable
- getting new university student card
- getting subject readers
- arranging for parents' visit to Melbourne later this year (though not much done)
- helping housemate get acquainted with studying and living in Melbourne

Maybe you thought I forgot about studying and assignments, but I didn't I am glad to add. The world really takes a lot out of you. It can be so not understanding, very uncompromising and definitely not the most loving place around. Hah. But I will never say I want to get out of here. That's escapism and a pathetic response to a place which was never hopeless to begin with. My family and friends are here and I love them. They were part of what made the past few months manageable.

I cannot say that because I 'did' the above I am now more mature and able to speak volumes more to those who are found wanting in this area. If I did so I am simply exposing my immaturity. It is not a revolutionary matter to fully grasp the intricacies of stocking up the apartment or other 'independent things that adults do'. What I learnt instead was the providence of my Father who foresaw the patch I went through and guided me through it with grace and love. Like a Father who understood the importance of discipline and letting His child learn from trial and error. I learnt the importance of having friends who prayed with me and for me, and assisted me through things I had little experience in.

I felt the maturity I attained in slight measure was mainly a spiritual and emotional one. In the most unresolvable of situations, when all odds are formidably stacked up against you; it was realising that it was about receiving support throughout the process of achieving the goal, than reaching the goal with as few scars and in as little time as possible.

Thank You Lord for covering me with Your grace and love. It was not easy, especially when what I prayed for didn't happen. But learning to trust You even more was the greatest gift of all. Of course what You blessed me with in the end, was far better than anything I expected.

A Politics of Difference

2007-03-26T19:50:00.000-07:00

Here I am typing away in my univeristy's computer lab in the Criminology building, feeling a bit daunted by the task of having to write an essay on crime and the justice system. I am unwilling to be tempted into lapsing into a pity-party but when it comes to assignments, I find it ironic that I am excusing the swirl of emotions for the sake of intellectual pursuit. So yeah. I do not find criminology attractive, four weeks into studying it.
The subject reads Crime Policy: A Sociological Approach. Where's the sociology? The links to my declared major can seem rather tenuous when I am lost in a forest of meanings, when I don't even have a map of understanding to begin with. Habermas? Weber? Durkheim? It is strangest strangest when I understand an article summarising Durkheim's theories and briefly expounding on his writings more than I do Durkheim.
Does this make his writing unnecessary?

Which brings me to my beloved tagboard and the spectres with rather cute monikers circulating within. I wish I could delete all offensive material off there. But then if I chose to leave them there, the childishness and ignorance is left for all out there to witness.

Jolt

2007-03-08T00:23:00.000-08:00

Last night was quite something. I know I am frustrated, just absolutely perplexed with how He's working. So many stops, so many barricades faced, when will a through road come into full view? Lord, where are You? Show Yourself please. I don't know how long I have to wait. It's been nearly 6 months since I first prayed about it, what more need I do?
Why this entire roundabout? Why bring me through so much of this? I am caught between taking up a position of quiet waiting and just well, ranting.
I know how easy it is for me to tell myself and accept the former. I am sure You know my capacity to do any of the above. But right now I am vacillating, with this urge to lurch into the latter.
To say I am satisfied and happy is a lie. There are many other things which bring me joy, no doubt, but there is a hole which gapes wide open which each passing day. Father I don't want to languish here anymore. I need some answer from You.
Lord something has to come through. Where are You?

Flight of the Butterflies

2007-03-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

Haiz, I am not feeling on top of my game, or any game for that matter.
Firstly I have no living space of my own which tremendously impedes the reading of my texts. Knowing how finicky I get with doing my assignments - from critically reading material to manually planning drafts to writing essays to editing them, I wonder how I have to make do in an occasion when everything seems so difficult?
Amongst a host of other things, I am frustrated, stressed and tired out, more mentally and emotionally than physically. The temptation of sleeping through the days, ignoring the passing of the world is considerable.
Oh Lord, when will all this end? Get me out of here. I have about had enough. I do not know exactly why all these matter to me but somehow they do. Father, where are You? I want to hear from You.

Yeah right.

2007-03-01T19:57:00.000-08:00

I miss my sis! Ahhhhh.........
I miss having her type away in the dialogue boxes on my MSN account to my friends, and have them all confused as to which sis is actually chatting with them. It is all great because there is this deepening sense of trust between us, that I know she will not harbour ill intentions or, in cases of a lack of intuition, mess up what matters to me.
I miss her dry sarcasm which in such inexplicable ways compliments mine (or is it because we share the same wit??). It is downright invigorating to have us both observe a situation and respond in a 'yeah right' kind of manner. Almost like laying our cards down on a table, with her becoming even more adept than me at it.
Best thing about her is that she is humble. An endearing sense of humility that I see as being one of her strongest traits. She does not play up her abilities, neither does she downplay them. She just simply does not make issue of them. Which is great, considering how I do not regard myself as being very humble at all.

Haiz I think I just miss spending simple times with someone who is not quick to judge, who takes life as it is, and is beautiful in all her maturing simplicity.

Kneading Dough

2007-02-18T23:02:00.000-08:00

As a result of bad sleeping postures which consequences I only realise after the harm has been inflicted (very Murphy's Law); and my reluctance to adopt more conventional sleeping postures, I have sufffered the onset of the Muscle Ache.
This has led to necessary costly intervention tactics also known as the Massage Parlour.
I hardly use certain explosive Singlish phrases but now I must...
Wah Lau!!! Super pain man! Whoever said massage was always comfortable? But perhaps I should clarify - the one I went for was acupoint massage which meant that the masseurs attacked (yes attack I believe) certain points, applying significant pressure to stimulate blood circulation, aid healing of ailments, improve the internal energy or whatever within the body, and provoke occasional wails from newbies like me.
There I was squirming in pain as he attended to my sciatica [just found out it is on the back near the hips... lower back perhaps?] and my neck and shoulders.
When I left it felt like it was all worth it. But now the specific acupoints which were targetted are rather pain. Well it is an exchange I am happy with considering how difficult it was to sleep before this because of the throbbing pain.
Value for money? Sure, I napped for two hours just before writing this post. =)

Praise the Lord for acupuncture!

A Lightening Load

2007-02-16T00:37:00.000-08:00

I am in Melbourne, at last, and enjoying it in many ways. There is this awesome freedom just hanging out with friends (or for now, it's mainly Clara =) - a freedom with tremendous spillover effects, ie. I will write normally and not gargle out some post which leaves some friends going - Huh?
heheheh
Suddenly all these pressures which have been building up so consistently over the past few weeks in Singapore are now slipping away. And my body which has been reacting against all this is gradually healing, with God's grace and mercy no less. Reading Spurgeon's devotional today which was based on Philippians 4:11 -
'I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content'
To be content indeed for I have put so much on myself and focused on my circumstances that I have become doubtless overwhelmed. So allow me to meditate on this Scripture. Spurgeon begins by saying: 'These words show us that contentment is not a natural propensity of man.' How true! I keep on thinking that things should and will get better. How can I better improve my lot in life? Has something slipped my mind which is actually really important? Is contentment the best state to be in? I have grown so accustomed to expecting a something more that being content seems like a paler, weaker cousin by comparison. Achieve! Expect! Demand! And it doesn't get too easy for me, considering how I'm a person wired to get things done efficiently as best as possible.
I know I have to erase what I have grown used to and embark on a new journey of learning. Somehow I find it easier to be content in Melbourne than in Singapore. Why? Is it because I really started on a fresh clean slate here and that's how I associated life in Melbourne with myself? But should the differences matter? I don't want to respond in such vastly different ways to myself just because of location.
He remains the same wherever I am. A constant Who teaches me what it is to be content, whichever the place, people, time, emotional/physical/mental/spiritual states I am in. And that IS comforting because many times we don't know how to comfort ourselves. Even when left in the hands of those who know and love us the most in this world, sometimes somethings don't come through. Save He. Save He indeed.
Yet I am glad I am back here. Hiatus perhaps? Pause perhaps? What I need is a Selah moment. Make that an extended Selah moment - precious time with my best Friend. Cruising along the freeway back to the city I feel I am familiar ground. The concrete barricades along the roads, the trees hunched by harsh Melburnian winds, the cloudy skies... somehow, I am home.
While the apartment hasn't appeared yet and there are bills here and there to be settled, I know He has everything settled. All these responsibilities are but responsibilities I know will be handled anyway. [He knows me, the planner and get-evverything-sorted-out one] But there are the emotions, the thoughts, all that no one else understands in all their individualised complexity which He knows full well. And that is comforting, so reassuring and healing in the nature of their encompassing knowledge.
And the most comforting thing of all is His presence. This is honestly something I am still trying to grasp in all its beautiful entirety. Why? because oftentimes I hear my voice before I hear His. heh. Yet above all I believe that being in Melbourne is a blessing. As they sing:
So blessed! I can't contain it
So much I gotta give it away
Your love taught me to live now
You are more than enough for me!

The load's lightening, my smile's brightening, this heart knowledge is enlightening.

Perhaps Palatable Tidbit A?

2007-02-10T21:43:00.000-08:00

Some customers who patronise the Bunalun Takashimaya organic food store I worked in can be so unintentionally hilarious. Two cases in point, all witnessed by my workmate Yanty; and all related to tea.

a. A lady comes into the store and heads toward the shelf of herbs and spices. She proceeds to rave about the Lemongrass tea she's been drinking, 'Really good stuff eh!'. She takes the small bottle of Lemongrass herbs. Yanty explains, 'Maybe you're referring to our Lemongrass tea there.' pointing helpfully toward the other shelf packed with tea. 'No no, it's this one.', our lady insists.
The Lemongrass tea is a blend of lemongrass herb with black darjeeling tea leaves. Thankfully she didn't enthuse too much to the point of buying the herbs as a gift for someone else.
The 'tea' would have been too refreshing.

b. Another lady comes into the store and asks if there was any of the Aromatic tea for sampling. Yanty whips out a small plastic container with the blend of rosebuds, orange zest, green darjeeling tea leaves and cinnamon in it. How do most people sample tea? If there's no brew to drink, it's through smelling right?
Before Yanty could stop her from doing so, our lady proceeds to chew one of the rosebuds and of course swallow it whole, no water involved.

After Yanty finished telling her quirky anecdotes, I thought that as an assistant in the store who has to prep herself for future such encounters, I should give it a shot too.
The rosebud was fragrant indeed, very aromatic... indisputably helping the tea blend live up to its namesake.

Palatable Tidbit B

2007-02-10T02:46:00.000-08:00

MUJI's Self-Assembled Cardboard Speakers

These are super wicked! I would love having them in my Melbourne apartment. What could possibly be cooler than Fix-Them-Yourself, affordable, very unState-of-the-arts cardboard speakers?

Apart from Bang & Olufsen of course. ^^

6 Fangs In The Air

2007-02-08T21:18:00.000-08:00

I am supposed to write what is weird about me. What if I find them weird, but you my dear reader, do not?

THE RULES: Each player of this game starts with the 'six weird things about you' blog post. People who get tagged need to write their own six weird things post and state the rules clearly. At the end of the post tag six more people and don’t forget to leave a comment on their blog to tell them they have been tagged and tell them to read your blog.

6 Weird Things About Lux

One Weird: I count the number of times I sip my drink from a straw and the spoonfuls of soup/pudding which enter my mouth. They tend to be odd numbers - 3 or 5 and maybe sometimes 7 or (3+5)=8. Having said that I try to ensure the spoon enters my mouth from the center - symmetrically. If it doesn't I'd drink again this time trying to equal what I did on one side earlier, by repeating it on the other side.

Two Weirds: My dreams tend to be very architectural in nature. They usually feature me either 1) witnessing a chase but not being actively involved myself 2) moving around a complex web of rooms, traversing larger plots of land 3) doing all the above again and again. This is where the sense of deja vu begins: I can repeat a fairly similar dream the following night, or even a few nights later. Somehow the space I move within seems all too familiar...

Three Weirds: I quietly breed scenarios in my head, using my fertile imagination and previous acting experiences to nurture them into mini-monsters. I will imagine myself as a character, suddenly slip into it and 'live' it out for that moment or so. It doesn't matter where I am - toilet, shopping mall, office corridor, gym, I will become the character. So do not be surprised if you sight me talking to myself. I am a normal girl with just that tendency to bring the mental 'real' into her physical 'real'.

Four Weirder: I thoroughly enjoy placing both my legs on the table as I use the computer or read a book, with my butt and back rested on the swivel chair. Right foot over left foot.

Five Weirded: For those who know me for a while, you're not new to my relatively infamous list of foods I dislike. What I dislike doesn't mean I puke when I'm duped to eating them. They simply don't excite me. Lets see: banana, sweet potato, cucumber, tomato, zucchini, eggplant, brinjal, persimmon, soggy pears and apples, lychee, rambutan, guava, water chestnut, sugarcane anything, shredded coconut, prawn, crab, oyster, clam, mussel, white chocolate, marzipan, licorice, jelly beans, lard, mutton, pickled vegetables, warm goat's milk, fried anchovies, salami...
Salami sounds weird so I think I'll pause here for now.

Six Weirdo: I wept buckets in Gladiator (in the cinema, no less, with friends around me) when Crowe's character was stabbed in the back before his fatal duel with Phoenix's character. It was so unfair!!! I don't know of anyone who watched the movie and cried in the scene. I don't think I'm weird; just that everyone else's heartless! *pout*

Okie, I don't regularly read people's blogs and certainly don't leave comments here and there. Those I read have already been tagged to do this. So sorry but I guess I can only tag two: Zinny and BCs, please share your weirdness with me >.<
And for all the others who do read, here's some pennies for your thoughts... and Share Them With Me!!!

Unpalatable Tidbit A

2007-02-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

I was watching the telly on the bus today [yes, there are tellies on buses in Singapore which most often than not show irritating shows. if the show isn't irritating (discounting the news) it's put on repeat often enough to irritate you]. The scene from a locally-produced Mandarin drama serial showed two buffed men in their boxes (?!!) holding some position that shouts: there's a fight going on!
Fine.

Then the conversation starts. You know it's not good when the fight scene features more talk than moves.

Guy A: I know we're standing here like a couple of naked trees. Let's continue the fight somewhere else.
Guy B: mutters something equally silly but unfortunately more forgettable.

A couple of naked trees? My goodness! Maybe something got lost in translation or I just don't know a good Chinese/English idiom.
But naked trees sounds really... odd.

Unpalatable Tidbit B

2007-02-07T03:57:00.000-08:00

I was recently looking at a signboard. It was marketing mints to keep your breath clean and people-friendly. And it comes in 3 flavours!
Fresh
Peppermint
Peach

It suddenly dawned on me: when was Fresh a flavour?

21 years old, and shedding

2007-02-05T02:45:00.000-08:00

Some statistics:
47 kilograms on the scale in the bedroom in spore
163 centimetres though this varies from here to there

They should consider using other means of measurement, namely clothes. Why? Because clothes can be just as exacting, critical, appraising, cruel and brutally honest as machines. Paired up with human eyes and any self-knowing individual's instinct, who needs to spend extra on some fuddy-duddy piece of technology?

The culprits:

a pair of cornflower blue boardshorts I bought when I was 14 years old. found them in a pile today. putting them on I realised my hips supported them better than 7 years ago. having said that, thank goodness my thighs didn't squeeze the room out of the pant legs
a padini authentics polo dress, dark blue with red and white stripes across the collar, and a bold USA in white on the front. parents bought this when I was like 12??? so proud to see it rise inches above my knees. proud also to say that when glanced in profile, the silhouette is not as pole-like as it once was. once more, the dress wasn't pulled taut.
a pink checked collared shirt my dad bought when I was, say 13??? very very pretty, some donna girl brand I've never seen before or since the shirt arrived. I remember walking out of Takashimaya after work only to realise that one of the shirt buttons have popped open, and I was revealing more flesh than necessary. Embarrassing! This shirt so bluntly puts it across: lux your arms have increased in diameter, your torso has lengthened considerably, and you have to be thankful to puberty for at least one other thing. heh.

pssst: before you get too excited that you can still fit into clothes you bought a decade ago and want to strut it out for all to witness... ensure you actually look as fresh as you feel.

Alighted

2007-02-01T01:06:00.000-08:00

Taken from Charles H. Spurgeon's devotionals. I was truly comforted and inspired.

'The dove came in to him in the evening'
Genesis 8:11

Blessed be the Lord for another day of mercy, even though I am now weary with its toils. Unto the preserver of men lift I my song of gratitude. The dove found no rest out of the ark, and therefore returned to it; and my soul has learned yet more fully than ever, this day, that there is no satisfaction to be found in earthly things - God alone can give rest to my spirit. As to my business, my possessions, my family, my attainments, these are all well enough in their way, but they cannot fulfil the desires of my immortal nature.
'Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.' It was at the still hour, when the gates of the day were closing, that with weary wing the dove came back to the master: O Lord, enable me this evening thus to return to Jesus. She could not endure to spend a night hovering over the restless waste, nor can I bear to be even for another hour away from Jesus, the rest of my heart, the home of my spirit. She did not merely alight upon the roof of the ark, she 'came in to him'; even so would my longing spirit look into the secret of the Lord, pierce to the interior of truth, enter into that which is within the veil, and reach to my Beloved in very deed.
Blessed Lord Jesus, be with me, reveal Thyself, and abide with me all night, so that when I awake, I may be still with thee.
I note that the dove brought in her mouth an olive branch plucked off, the memorial of the past day, and a prophecy of the future. Have I no pleasing record to bring home? No pledge and earnest of lovingkindness yet to come? Yes, my Lord, I present Thee my grateful acknowledgments for tender mercies which have been new every morning and fresh every evening; and now, I pray Thee, put forth Thy hand and take Thy dove into Thy bosom.

The patter of little feet

2007-01-29T18:39:00.000-08:00

Nicked this off an ex-JC classmate's blog. I'm not bored, just inquisitive.

Name: lux
Birthday: sometimes wishing Frank Lloyd Wright shared his design genius with me
Birthplace: Singapore
Current Location: it's really Singapore, but I'd say Melbourne
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: dyed, and yes this is a colour
Height: 164cm
Right Handed or Left Handed: Right
Your Heritage: Cantonese from Guangdong (who presently cannot hold a conversation in canto)
The Shoes You Wore Today: pointy-toed leather slingbacks, one-inched, oh-so-feminine
Your Weakness: just one? there're many, worldly knowledge being one
Your Fears: being too selfish
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: drawing closer to Him, learning to love others more, refining my wardrobe, working out my box of colour pencils and paints to full effect
Your Most Overused Phrase on an instant messenger: well... but... yeah...
Thoughts First Waking Up: sleep! even if your body says no more!
Your Best Physical Feature: eyes I'm told
Your Most Missed Memory: me and sis sliding around the bathroom floor on our butts as we bathed
Single or Group Dates: Single. Do group dates work?
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Chai Latte only!
Chocolate or vanilla: choc
Cappuccino or Coffee: isn't cappuccino a kind of coffee?
Do you Smoke: nope
Do you Swear: is darn a swear word?
Do you Sing: a resounding yes
Do you Shower Daily: Yes, it's therapy for the city girl
Have you Been in Love: with God, yes; with others, no.
Do you want to go to College: I am in college.
Do you want to get Married: That's long haul but yes, why not?
Do you believe in yourself: He believes in me and that is enough.
Do you get Motion Sickness: Too often
Do you think you are Attractive: As attractive as I aim not to consciously be
Are you a Health Freak: I respect health, not freak out over it
Do you get along with your Parents: gradually more and more
Do you like Thunderstorms: when I'm inside looking out
Do you play an Instrument: no
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: two glasses
In the past month have you been on Drugs: no
In the past month have you gone on a Date: what truly constitutes a date?
In the past month have you gone to a Mall: yes
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: I've however eaten many near-expired brownies from the organic store I work in
In the past month have you eaten Sushi: yes!
In the past month have you been on Stage: I crave to be but have not
In the past month have you been Dumped: no
In the past month have you Stolen Anything: no
Ever been Drunk: Anyone who'll generously provide the alcohol and dare to push the limits?
Ever been called a Tease: no
Ever been Beaten up: no need to beat. Just tickle.
How do you want to Die: does this question insinuate a certain fear of dying?
What do you want to be when you Grow Up: Curator in a museum. Set up cafe promoting quirky local art. Serving in missions in farflung places
What country would you most like to Visit: dare I say Europe as a continent?

In a Boy...Favourite Eye Colour: the colour doesn't matter
Favourite Hair Colour: no preference
Short or Long Hair: How long's long? Not shaggy for sure
Height: At least three inches taller, so I can still wear my heels
Weight: Lean and proportionately muscular please
Best Clothing Style: Smart and preppy. I dig V-necked sweaters, collared shirts, pressed khakis and comfortable sneakers/opentoed sandals/laceups

Number of Drugs I have taken: wasn't there a drug question earlier?
Number of CDs I own: eclectic, considerable and gaining a character of their (collective) own
Number of Piercings: 4, though I think they've almost all closed
Number of Tattoos: none
Number of things in my Past I Regret: I don't regret. He has settled them all. Living with Him is much easier.

Silver tipped

2007-01-29T17:52:00.000-08:00

I ever remembered a girlfriend showing me the picture of her then-current boyfriend on MSN, the Mother of all online chat engines.
I said He's good looking!
She said Thank you! =)

It is just three degrees more silly and illogical than replies to compliments on looks:
(any letter from)A-Z says You're pretty/cute/good looking etc.!
You say Oh thank you! =)

Of course you could be a really good dresser; or much better still, a character with a generous dose of confidence and assuredness to boot. But in all honesty you cannot possibly say thanks to what is certainly a blessing of admirable genes from those who have come and gone before you? ie. your parents' parents' parents' to the power of (any letter from)A-Z?

So are you thanking us for acknowledging your good taste in choosing a mate; sharing your appreciation for looks he did not fully earn on his own efforts; or rejoicing over the possibility that if all works out well, you will be able to partake in the double joy of blessing a future generation with admirable genes?

If I were your progeny, I'd say thanks to that!

My sister [1]

2007-01-27T23:19:00.000-08:00

We were chatting last night just before bedtime. The conversation led to things which when never mentioned, were never known; till last night.

xhua: I found a girl who has similar hands to mine - hairy arms!
This drew attention to her outstretched arms which were generously covered with hair. Straight not straggly.
lux: Oh.
xhua: But mine's better, more organised.
lux: Oh really? That's good. Sadness for her.
xhua: Yes sadness indeed.
Pause
xhua: Good arms. Good hair.

We brushed teeth and peewee-d. I was sitting on the upper deck of our double decker bed (which lower deck she had long since vacated on the excuse that mosquitoes tormented those sleeping in cave-like conditions) and she decided to pursue another relevant topic.

xhua: You know ah, when I was in primary 5, I went for an exam even though I was sick. During the exam I cough cough cough, sneeze sneeze sneeze. I was a nuisance.
lux: Oh my goodness, 5 years after the incident then you admit you were a nuisance.
xhua: The following week those seated around me were all sick.
lux: Ohhh.
xhua: It happened when I was younger before too.
lux: I see.
xhua: I'm a 100% effective vector!
lux: Good to know you're an effective flu messenger.
xhua: I always get sick during exam time.

Both: Good night!

The silence.

2007-01-26T17:53:00.000-08:00

Perhaps I have been giving too much of myself and I am currently rather drained out, emotionally, physically and mentally. Last night as I prayed to Him, I asked: Father, I don't think I can quite take it anymore.
Thanks Jesus for being there. I am on the verge of tears. Again I wonder what did I do that others can inflict wounds on me with the words they use. And then I find myself somewhere near where I was just about a year ago - the very person I helped just as deftly, and how matter consciously, did and said careless things which lashed painfully at me; or more accurately, who I am. But thank You that Your love still abounds, hugs me to sleep even when my candle is about to blow out. Thank You for blessing me with a sister who seems to understand even when few others do; who stands by just by being there when her 21 year old sister is emotionally dry.
I pray for Your living waters to rush over me, sweep across my being and leave love, grace and power trickling all over me. I need that right now. I think I have to step back. It is never about me, it has always been about You.

2007-01-10T19:00:00.000-08:00

Isaiah 22:11
but you did not look to the One who made it,
or have regard for the One who planned it long ago.

Everything He has purposed for me is to bless and propser. So why am I, in so many areas of my life, looking to improve the situation in ways I was used to, and attempting to understand human emotions and condition through patterns of thought I have been accustomed to? When I know that there is One who oversees all and whose wisdom supercedes anything I claim to know?
There is this reluctance in me to stop the cycle of thinking*
*when Lux was younger, her thought processes were fine products of the world and its system of education. the more knowledge she acquired the more cynical she grew. the more questions she asked the more she realised no one had adequate, or even satisfactory, answers to them.
and I realised that the patterns of thought I am once more immersing myself into were undeniably insular and self-consumed. Easily I have settled down into the comfortable life I'm used to in Singapore and to an extent also found myself settling back into the questionable 'comforts' of the way I reasoned out life and relationships.
Thoughts are not bad but when I leave out Christ in my life as a Christian, where does that leave me? An -ian waiting for a noun to fill up the space left by the hyphen? What have I been orienting my life toward? Even when I profess being Christian, and blessedly so; have I forgotten His grace and love and providence?

Father I cry out to You! I need help with my thoughts and the way I try to handle my life. There is a gap which cannot be replaced by anything else. Teach me how to lead a life that's full of You. I am sorry that in the busy-ness of life, throughout all the wrestling with relationships and emotions and thoughts I have put You aside. Here I am trying to wrestle with the heaviness of living and forgotten how You Lord have saved me and will bear the burdens for me.
I want to live a life in line with Your plans and desires for me, a life rich with a heart knowledge of who You are in me. Let me not pray prayers which are empty of heart but rather prayers overflowing with You, Lord Jesus. I want to look to You, to see You, to rest in You. I pray for the strength to step out in faith, out of the processes and conditions I have grown used to over the years and into a garden filled with peace and hope.
Only You know what lies inside of me. I pray for humbleness and obedience in the name of my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Amen.

Making It Big

2007-01-08T17:57:00.000-08:00

Psalm 144
'LORD, what are human beings that you care for them,
mere mortals that you think of them?
They are like a breath;
their days are like a fleeting shadow.'

I have not posted any devotions on this blog for a long time. Why now I do not quite know, but I'll just let the Spirit lead in these writings.
In all honesty, in the whole corpus of human history; in comparison to all around me, humans and animals and creation and creation - I am that small. Really. He has seen the passing of times, civilisations and empires. He has witnessed the gradual corrosion of the earth He created. He has seen how the elaborate and infinitely beautiful home He has built for those He loves and makes in His image, being slowly laid to waste by... us.
Nothing is perfect about me. All my achievements - from putting together a fine-looking outfit to writing an award-winning poem to topping the class in an examination, can never draw me closer to perfection. How can it be when these achievements can become keys which unlock a heart wrecked by spite, fear, pride, envy as I compare myself against the images set by others? And it is because I hold on to these worldly standards that days do become fleeting shadows. For who is fully immersed in light if every moment is spent hiding in the murkiness of a spirit so used to chasing after that which has little light of its own, if any at all?
Father, why me? I who tire easily and whines and despairs and sits around wondering when the next buzz will arrive? I am merely mortal. Yet in all my mortality You can still see hope and in whom You still have much faith in. I am fallible. Strip everything off me and lay me bare, without all the accoutrements I have attained over the years living here, and I am small and weak and still immature in the desires I harbour in my heart.
But I want my heart to grow bigger, knowing that You desire far larger things for me. Grant me the faith to nurture a gentle, patient and discerning heart large enough to believe in the great visions You have for Your people. Forgive me for I have grown insular and selfish. The thoughts I think about myself have outnumbered those I think of You and others. Yet You continue thinking about me - not bad thoughts but good ones, ones meant to prosper me and this world I live in. Father I pray for a change in my heart and a strengthening of my faith. Please ignite fresh new hopes in me that they may empower me to see beyond the limitations of my own faculties.
I have been praying for passion, passion, passion. Now I want to pray for something new. I pray that I'll slowly come to full understanding of how great Your love is for me, for people and for the home You created for us. I pray that my desire to know You more and more will never be superceded by my passions to serve Your kingdom. I want You, Holy Spirit, to blossom in a heart that is big for You. I need realignment Father. The only One who knows how to go about this is You. Teach me how to pray and wait this through, to trust sitting on Your shoulders and to remain actively faithful through it all.
Even though I may seem small; I know and want You to be big in me, my Lord and Saviour, Friend and Comforter, all in all.

Pandas eat bamboo shoots

2006-12-31T18:53:00.000-08:00

Ever since I started working as a retail assistant for an organic food store, my appetite has gone out of whack. The busy-ness of the festive season - gift wrapping for last minute Christmas purchases and the endless kerrching! of the cash register, has all left me feeling a bit bleh when it comes to food.
Perhaps it is seeing food hour in, hour out? Don't get me wrong I absolutely believe in what I sell. The quality is top notch and you get renowned products from around the world without having to traverse seas and paying a bomb.
So how bad has it gotten? Buying a salmon rice bowl from Yoshinoya at 1115am and eating it at 1843pm. It got so bad that one day, after a lousy lunch, I simply slumped on the floor, exhausted and drained out, literally, of healthy blood. I dashed out of the store to the pharmacy nearby and started enquiring about multivitamins. I knew people take them to supplement weak diets and irregular meals; never did I think I would actually start eating them at 21 [I always thought it was an 'older' person phenomenon].
Here I am with a bottle of Centrum. Popping a vitamin and mineral packed tablet once a day, believing hidden miraculous stuff are happening in my body. As I eat this I wonder how people with eating disorders manage to keep their bodies going.
I love food too much to forgo anything. A recent revelation spoke firm words to me: honour this body which houses the Holy Spirit, serve Him with a healthy body that is able to walk the distance. I want to welcome the person I love the most in this world into an abode that is welcoming, hospitable, warm and filled with the best stuff as I can possibly afford.
Even with a multivitamin tablet, yes even with this.

Inter Alia

2006-12-18T02:12:00.000-08:00

I just returned from a weekend trip to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. It is the third time in three years, in the same time of the year no less, and honestly speaking my enthusiasm for the capital city has deteriorated with each subsequent visit.
A sleep-deprived Lux immersed in an environment which is super polluted and dirty makes for a rather unpleasant, grouchy and unlovable Lux indeed. I am incredibly sorry to my family for having to put up with my foul mood on the last day. A disagreement over what I prioritise as compared to what my Mum prioritises is not exactly easy either.
My parents have done all to provide for so much - from good accommodation to food to transport to expenditure (and I was so willing to spend, and they to spend on me... even though the amount of purchases I made fails to reflect that); and for all these I am very very thankful indeed. But me being pampered me from Singapore where things are noticeably different from KL, finds it hard and trying to be happy when old engines sputter filthy exhaust into the air and people squash me on the trains...
And I wonder: there is a desire in me to go for at least ONE mission in my life, to serve others. But if I am so finicky with lifestyle conditions now (not least the air, to begin with) how am I going to find the capacity in my heart to reach out to others? I have conveniently forgotten that in the three days I was there by the grace of God I had no food poisoning, received clean water, lived in a comfortable room and was truly blessed by the company of loved ones who love me. So what is up Lux? You came back with a pair of Philips earphones and a pair of brown Samuel & Kevin three-quarter cargo pants and you are whining. No armed robbery, no snatch thievery and no rape or kidnapping done to you or your family.
Honestly speaking I was comparing the place I come from to the place I have arrived at. I knew I could never expect likewise but still I refused to let go of these expectations. O, Father forgive me! for being so stubborn, demanding, unloving and ignorant. You are Lord over Singapore, as You are over Malaysia, Australia, Southeast Asia, Hongkong, Europe as You are over - my life. Why should it be difficult to see and sense You in one place than another when You are the Creator of all peoples? Do I not see them pushed right up next to me on the monorail? Do I not see them hoarding into mosques? Do I not see them begging on the streets, limbs mutilated and blackened by gangrene? Lord I repent for allowing my heart to grow hard by pride, fear and a lack of compassion. What will You do in my position, Lord Jesus? As You are already doing right now that I, in all my spiritual and emotional blindness, have not prepared my heart to be part of Your much much much greater vision for this world.
If I cannot even soften my heart with compassion and empathy for a neighbour so close to me, how much more can I extend a loving person to those farther away? Lord teach me. Search my heart and try me. I want to set my heart right before You. No longer to live by the ways of the flesh and be pulled down by the ways of this world. But pure, not corrupted, not polluted, a lighthouse to all around. Father You know my heart and every thought and feeling. It cannot begin with me trying to set right my thoughts and feelings. The heart from which every thought and feeling ensues is also the place which needs to receive new seeds of change.
Lord I want to be changed, from within to without. Amen.

World of Veggies Unite!

2006-12-08T06:28:00.000-08:00

I love watching Veggie Tales! Okie a small spiel on the series - it is adorable, great for all who are in for fun, has great animation, is immensely colourful and action-packed, includes cutesy voices and and and....

But wait this isn't the reason this was written.

I just had a revelation! Woah Veggie Tales - leads to - revelation, biggie stuff. I realised that the cartoon I've nursed a soft spot for has a cucumber and tomato for leads.
Shock horror shock tremendous horror indeed for me! For all who know me, they also know that there is a long list of veggies and fruits I dislike eating [that's how you know you know me]. This includes sweet potatoes, zucchinis, brinjals, eggplants, bananas, soggy apples, pears, pomegranates, lychees, rambutans, longans.... etc etc etc.
and CUCUMBERS and TOMATOES.

The irony, the irony. I probably would have wept if I was 10 years younger. But I have just been lawfully classified adult, and being classified as such, I will only allow myself to ponder the elision of the boundaries separating the real and the fictive, the animate and the inanimate.

Maybe if I've been weaned on Veggie Tales from a younger age, I might have cultivated a passionate love for them.

Why not a Bak Choy and a Bittergourd may I hasten to ask?

Picture imPerfect

2006-12-03T01:53:00.000-08:00

There is a new phenomenon and it is concentrated amongst the:
working class to the aristocrat
consumerist
certain (economically stable) parts of the world

and it is used/practiced by those who are:
trained to believe that a certain mould of 'good looking' exists
vain
prone to assume that a blotch in the picture is to the detriment of everyone else featured in it, and therefore must be immediately corrected
even if no one else is featured, posterity warrants certain degrees of 'perfection'
used to posing in a manner deemed most flattering to them

Welcome to the era of the Photo Whore! A prime feature in this age of digital cameras, when bad shots can be instanteneously removed, bad poses corrected with two clicks of the finger [one to delete shot with bad pose, and another to capture improved pose which does not look too dissimilar from former bad pose]; leaving people looking marginally more photogenic and feeling a hundred times more assured of their physical appearance on screen.
The generous amount of storage space on digi-cams (abbreviation) has allowed consumers the world over the privilege of snapping and deleting and printing, snapping deleting printing pictures till they are satisfied. But! as we all know full well already, satisfaction is never fully attained in this consumerist age. Maxed out a memory card? Insert a new one! No new ones? delete old pictures where you looked a tad chubbier, with smile and eyes less brilliant. Perfectionists can be vicious.
Just like movie stars, we all presume, practise their smiles and poses privately to prepare for public display; the Photo Whore respects the need to set aside time to put into action this movie-star work ethic. I have noticed this one female who got someone [or was it herself? Note the Photo Whore tends to have longer arms as he/she takes shots of him/herself in private (and gosh! sometimes even when there are others around)] to take a picture of her. The shocking thing was how in two totally different settings, she adopts the Exact Same Pose, from tilt of the head to corners of her smile to how wide her eyes were open. Being able to do the Exact Same Pose is rather damning evidence of being a Photo Whore [for when does nature see beauty in replicas alone?].
Another characteristic of the Whore is his/her insistence on taking photos whenever, wherever even if other parties are not that enthusiastic on taking photos. The prime focus of the picture, is not beautiful scenery or cute animals hanging around; it is rather the Photo Whore. His/her presence and domination of the picture landscape has negated most of the significance of what lies in the background to the point that the latter becomes merely a backdrop, a mere incidence. You only realise what the background means when you scroll through the inventory of pictures and see the pictures without humans in them. Conversation may sound like this:
'Ohhhh, I see, you went to the Great Ocean Road... that's one of the Apostles. And look! You're standing next to it. I almost thought it was your uncle you were posing with.'
For all we know, Anonymous' uncle may simply be apologetically un-photogenic and in need of tips from some Photo Whores as to how he may improve his appearance in pictures. When he has perfected the skill, he can join the group of Photo Whores and take endless pictures with them, snapping and deleting at will.
But note the hesitation to stereotype females as being the sole perpetrators of this crime. There are Closet Photo Whores which includes any and everyone who has ever used the digital camera to forward his/her agenda to look and feel better [even if and especially when it comes at the expense of others].
In addition, people from certain parts of the world has grown increasingly more photogenic. And this is all that truly matters because when it comes to preserving objects for the sake of posterity, it is important that grandchildren and great-grandchildren understand that they have inherited great genes.
Of course there are those who are photogenic even without practise in front of the lens. However this is no excuse for the less photogenic of the very photogenic to be lax or take a back seat. Better work on it otherwise all will be lost to the Whore who works hard at achieving the fruits of pixelated perfection.
Resolute? Resolution =)

Just when you thought fashion was individual

2006-11-21T03:43:00.000-08:00

And then you decide to buy a lurvely tie-dye blouse with blue smocking just below bust level and... rainbow colours all around the top.
Lurvely - AUD16 from Hunter Gatherer which sells secondhand items usually of a vintage nature with proceeds making their way to charity
The tie-dye - very bohemian, very tribal, very New Age, very idyllic primitive paradise? yeah no?
Smocking - feminine, i think
Rainbow - I was crossing the road and coming from the opposite direction was a lady who looked arguably lesbian (I could mistake clothes, hairstyle, gait but with experience, I can kind of ascertain sexuality - to an extent, I beg to qualify). She looked at me.

Now who says clothes maketh a w*man?!

Glass on Grass

2006-11-19T15:52:00.000-08:00

It has been exactly two weeks since it happened and no circumstantial post on it yet. So allow me to bring you on a wild carnivalesque ride through the events of that most breathtaking night. This involves regular switches of personas, all of which a(we)re assumed by me for this post.

lux, 515pm None better than to hit the streets, city la extravagant here we come! You wind through the grid of streets, multiplied into a frenzy because after days of whipping up a storm of words on the *notebook [more to come from this species of consumer good], you wonder if the curves on screen are people navigating the lines of the street - topographical view! Like words move out of the brain and through our fingertips, we leapt out of my home, out of the block and into concrete wilderness, ready to consume distance with light treads of our feet.

lux, 730pm Intricacies of Vietnamese dining begins with the formula of a shy doe, a well-intentioned hart and a Christmas bauble shining so brilliantly on the treebranch under which the sprightly creations stand. All of which never fully equate no matter how deftly you shift one component from side to side of the 'Therefore it is' sign; flick your neck from left to right trying to evaluate the unsaid beneath what is said... The bauble babbles brilliantly, sometimes wondering if she was a mistletoe [ignore all paganistic references. Now. we're Christian] who reputedly is the trigger to all things waiting to be expressed but finds no humanly impetus in doing so.
The bauble babbles brilliantly.

leapfrog back to Word document, a new paragraph is emerging:

circus Act, 745-915pm Stretch your muscles, train your vision, there is an audience which you cannot see. You believe the world that immediately surrounds you now is a world within your control. You execute quick flicks of your limbs. Though not nimble and certainly not skilled, your goals have propelled you further than you wished for. You wished they decked you in candy colours a many, feet shod in slim leather shoes for that ballerina's touch of a feather on ground a-solid, highlighted your face with dabs of white, black and gold, slap on red on your mouth for that vicious smile... But you are dull as a rat, black and grubby. You think yourself shunned by your fellow actors and audience alike. Ignored, moving within the shadows, your life you believe has been relegated to the gutters of the circus ever since he snatched the shimmery satin slip away from you. You are convinced. Such actions are not to be forgiven.

lux, 930pm Begins long trek back, tracing footsteps on a path oft-walked before. But always with a difference. Always with a difference though this be proclaimed on hindsight more than it is realised cognitively, instinctively. The hart walks alongside the doe and her bauble. The night is cool and the doe is mildly attracted to the way the hart straps on his notebook case. Light hearted banter.
Who would have known pantomime could be sinister?

circus Act, 745-915pm Face contorts. Eyebrows arch into furry black cats, fangs barred, nails digging deep into the ground, eyes aglow, hair standing on ends. Pluck out each strand, sew them together with fairy thread, stretch them across the body of a violin. It plays a melody most haunting and sly. It leaps onto the green fence, spreads forth limbs aplenty and hurls itself onto the balcony above. It stands at the gate of its dreams. It has had many dreams before. This is not the grandest but it will have to suffice. Its guts are big enough only for this dream. It fancies a cloak of diamonds for its naked body. Vulnerable body. Swimming right through the gate, it hears the incriminating sound of jewels pressing tightly against its slender frame.

lux, 10pm Doe: Did you hear the sound of an animal enter the apartment? Pushing open the door, the room was the stuff of rumour and more ill-begotten dreams. Bed flipped over. Wardrobe doors flung wide open. Heater lying on the floor, basking in the coolness of the night - which came from a small hole in the window pane. Battery chargers pulled out of battery points. Laptop tugged out of a comfortable position.
No animal - not ferret, not rat, not mongoose? I wished. The chilly spring wind was brushing against the edges of the broken window pane. Slivers of glass were being chipped off what was left of the frame, creating sounds which mimicked a creature rustling through my stuff.
All of a sudden, a story was more than fiction on a page, more than words painted out of the imagination. It happened in the past and left its mess for those in the present to witness.

It was all so surreal. We stood, five in a circle, worshipped Jesus our Saviour, prayed against fear and claimed back what belonged to us from the enemy's camp.
They say fear can bring death (and not just a physical death).
That night we prayed for healing in Christ, the One who brings dead things to life. I hope, through it all, the Act will find Someone who can make him whole again, with a jewel purer than shattered diamonds.

Each fighting An Own Mess

2006-11-15T23:48:00.000-08:00

I just discovered a bottle of 4.3.2.1. 10-day Slimming and Detox Programme - herbal concoction intended to naturally hlep an individual knock off unwanted kilos and get rid off toxins and gunk that pollute our biological systems. Well not for me of course. I need detox but I certainly am not going to forgo even healthy portions like tofu, soymilk, dark chocolate and copious amounts of fruit and veg and almonds for a drink.
Maybe life-juice but see, this juice IS Life. So much so I bathe in it on a highly regular basis.
What is a slim 5feet3 girl, hardly tipping the scales at 45kg, doing to herself?
What has made her so insecure that every thing she eats is a reminder of Consequences, Guilt, Condemnation, Inadequacy, Judgement? Where she has failed to retain control over this part of her life - eating, which is not only a necessity but also a blessing we should be thankful for having.
Ultimately it remains a choice. For me here I am packing up my room. Ever noticed how it becomes incredibly messy during packing before it morphs spectacularly into neat little boxes toward the end? I love the thrill of packing, of being neat and organised but I also dislike any visible mess. This makes the entire process of packing a most tricky one.

Her eating, my packing? Spot any similarities?
And no, this is not a rhetorical question.

Who is looking?

2006-10-29T21:58:00.000-08:00

I miss acting! I truly truly do!!
The desire to get involved in a production arises every once in a while, and now's one of those whiles.
I get a thrill of standing in front of an audience, hopefully holding them captive, and stirring them up in ways quite beyond my control.
There is something alluring and provocative in drama which none of the other performing arts can, and dares to, challenge.
The lift of an eyebrow, the inflection of the voice, a jerk of the finger, the tilt of a shoulder -

Theatre theatre theatre, wherefore art thou? I long to have you in my life once more, just as we were partners in years past...

the LowDown

2006-10-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

Reading the writings of Ambroise Vollard (a picture dealer for the Impressionists, Post-Impressionists), I come to realise how those who patronise the arts can be so unintentionally hilarious. And dense?

"There is also the amateur who likes a picture because of its title, even if the title has nothing to do with the subject; an example of which is afforded from high quarters... While on the subject of titles, I might recount the extraordinary avatars undergone by a picture of Cezanne's.
I was holding an exhibition of this painter's work, including a picture of a shepherd and some naked women in a landscape. By mistake, the picture happened to be in a frame from which I had forgotten to remove the label, and this read: Diana and Actaeon. In the Press notices, the picture was described as though it had really been meant for a Diana bathing. One art critic praised the noble attitude of the goddess and the modest air of the virgins surrounding her. He particularly admired the gesture of the attendant nymph at the entrance to the glade, who with her uplifted arm bade the intruder begone.
Some time afterwards I was asked to lend Cezanne's picture of the Temptation of St. Anthony to an exhibition. I had promised the painting, but could not send it, as it had been sold in the meantime. In its place I sent the pseudo Diana and Acteon, after removing the unfortunate label from the frame. But as the Temptation was expected, no one thought of rectifying the title in the catalogue, and on the strength of the printed word an influential art review described the picture as a Temptation of St. Anthony. Where others had seen the noble attitude of a goddess, the art critic now discovered the bewitching yet perfidious smile of the daughter of Satan. Actaeon became a pathetic St. Anthony. The repelling gesture of the outstretched arm changed to a seductive invitation... On the last day of the exhibition the collector who had refused the picture when it was called Diana and Actaeon came to see me. He had in his hand a copy of the review in which the glowing article had appeared. "I've just bought that Temptation," he said. "Its realism is admirable."
When I asked Cezanne what the subject of its picture really was:
"It has no subject. I was merely trying to render certain movements."

Art history research can be so good, partly due to such moments, which fortunately appear rather often.

Hands

2006-10-03T03:02:00.000-07:00

I could see them at the table just ahead. A cozy spot fit for four - the men on one side, the one facing them on the other. Two elderly couples seated in a seafood restaurant that has been elaborately and astutely designed with everything nautical/marine/piratey.
There were anchors, a fake fireplace, crabs, fishes, pirates, floats etc. The products of a creative imagination. It was little wonder the place was packed. We all love seeing fantasy be realised by those with the time, vision and money to do so.
But back to the main story.
The miraculous even came after dinner and a spot of phototaking. Thanks to Deborah who remarked upon observing the four good friends, "I would love to do that when I grow old." I looked ahead and was warmed by the sight.
They sat, huddled over the table, faces pressing close to the center, their hands linked to form a tight circle. They were deep in prayer. It was not a prayer to give thanks for the food - the tummies have already been filled. I could only guess what they were praying about.
A celebration of friendship and the beauty of sharing life together, not just over one meal but many meals and the communion within. I was touched by the power of the scene in front of me.
I told Xinyan: I want to share such a moment with you forty, fifty years down life's winding road. To commemorate all the times we have shared our walk with our Lord Jesus Christ.

Cramping a style

2006-09-30T01:30:00.000-07:00

I have decided: I will move out of my St. Nicholas Place apartment next year. Am I sick of the apartment? A tad, probably because it has come so intricately connected with my experience of living here, that the surrounds have even become tired to me. How can a kitchen, a warm bedroom and a cool living room area become tired? How can a chair, a fridge or a shoe rack become tired? Afterall do they not have a life of their own?
When humans invest energies into including lifeless objects in their daily lifestyles, these objects attain meaning of their own. Unused, ignored, occupying space just because a shoe rack needs to be there - they draw energy out of their owners. Looking at them once frustrated me - what is happening to our relationship, do these objects exist here just because it is logically necessary to have them around? Now they do not even frustrate for I have become oblivious to their relevance to my life, them having lost whichever ounce of relevance that once existed.
I need to move on. A two year contract has signed me onto a journey that has, upon some reflection, stretched me in so many ways. However I cannot allow myself to be stuck in a relationship rut. I want to sail a Ship with someone keen on establishing and building a Relation with me. Not me alone, I need two to navigate the spirit of the waters together.
I want to share meals because food is a blessing for what it is, and the communion with others that it encourages. I want to watch movies together and laugh till the ceiling shakes. I want to clean the house together, discovering the nooks and crannies of a cramped apartment. I want to share the sometimes enjoyable, sometimes irritating, chore of choosing outfits. I want to take walks out in the open together.
Relationships are meant to bless and to be blessed. I feel so far from that at present. Perhaps things might get better when we are apart, when the issue of 'valued personal space' becomes less of an issue. Currently I have arrived at that point when I am not even inspired or bothered to pray about the situation. It is not that I do not care - how could I if I call this apartment home on a daily basis? You are no less an important individual as my other friends are. It is just that well, honestly, I am tired.
Sometimes I ask myself: Do I lack faith? Desperation that has cooled into resignation which has then stilled into what? incapacitation perhaps. Everything is in His hands I believe but why do I not actively pray about it?
I need new life, new perspectives and energy afresh. You are not bad, not crucial, not disposable. The RelationShip has somehow landed in a realm, recalling the Bermuda Triangle, where there is an elision of boundaries, an erasure of clarity.
I need You to help me sort this out. I do.

For Friends and the Warmth Within

2006-09-19T20:38:00.000-07:00

I had been ill the past week. I had not had it so bad in quite a long while - the usual symptoms of flu on Monday quickly degenerated into a full-blown fever the next day, so intense was it that I was bedridden for 3/4 of the day. It is one thing to know the possibility and another to experience it so palpably. I was groggy to the point that fifteen minutes out of the bed my head starts getting numb and I had to hit the sheets, head-first again. Thank God for a comfy bed and soft sheets. I could not have quite made it through it all if not for warmth between the covers.

And thank Him for the warmth of friendships. Alpha camp was memorable, incomparable in how He made me experience the power of relationships - with Him and with others. I knew the Spirit was there I could feel it strongly till the point that I almost wanted to cry. As we worshipped, I looked through the glass panel onto the verdant growth of trees and I believed I almost saw it, the indescribable presence of my Lord. So swept up by His divine providence I wanted to cry, if only because I knew He has anointed all present with grace and love and might.

Last night's dinner was the best dinner I have had in a while. Me, Xinyan, Colin, Bryan and Elvin went for Korean followed by sweets by The Bald Man. The food did not disappoint but the company was incomparable. Great conversations, fantastic guys who were kind, funny and chatty, excellent rapport - Father You are amazing that You have created people the ways they are! For friends who watch out for you and accept you just the way you are. I was affirmed, encouraged and appreciated as a friend last night. Whether they knew it or not, I was honoured to be in their presence. So blessed, so in awe of His majesty.

Father You have indeed planted irreplaceable joy in me.

Thank You =)

Are you a turtle?

2006-09-05T04:36:00.000-07:00

There is a phenomenon going on on MSN Messenger. The last time a phenomenon of similar proportions occurred was back in 2004, after the Beslan crisis in Russia where children were held hostage and killed by terrorists. The primary difference is in the character the mourning has taken.
So what is the phenomenon in mention? Friends in my contact list are putting up turtle emoticons as a symbol of mourning/commemoration/recognition of Steve Irvin's death, and all his achievements for Aussie tv and wildlife. Two years back roses were erected in exactly the same place - before each person's nickname. Therefore everyone esle sees the turtle/rose before reading the nickname. The emoticons become, for the moment, the prime mode of identification for those who choose to endorse them.

[Allow me to clarify the intentions of my post. I have opinions and I hold it against no one if they included the emoticons. I am not passing judgement on what others do, just simply openly wondering why people do such things. This post is not intended to, and cannot possibly, alter people's actions.]

When the Beslan roses (I find this sounding affectionate and deprecating at the same time. don't ask why) started appearing not soon after the news were released, I was astounded by how fast news spread. Two roses popping up on your MSN screen within the hour and you're tempted to find out why so. So you ask and you find out the horror of human perversity. Of course my MSN is limited to friends from Singapore, Melbourne or those who were studying in other parts of the world. However I believe that there is a movement happening here, one moving assiduously.
Roses for the Beslan children? I thought doing it online was patronising, an act with (possibly) good intentions but which romantic sentiments are rather misplaced. What difference does a rose make? Yes it can show sympathy, and that has probably drove many to do likewise. But when does a badge worn to proclaim a stand becomes one of conformity, and worse still, a gradual marginalisation of the intensity of horror at terrorism?
Was it an effort to spread the news? Was it simply about jumping onto the bandwagon? Was it an assertion of one's stand? If that is so what stand is it? Does it reflect how we assimilate and re-produce our reactions to information right now? Are all our thought processes moving too rapidly for us to grasp the significance and implications of what we do? It may sound like I dislike the emoticons, and to an extent I nurse a disdain for them (though no strong dislike), because I wonder if emoticons become the best way for aligning ourselves to a global outpouring of grief.

Next on to turtles. The greatest irony is above all reserved for how Steve Irvin died. He was a remarkable spokesperson for Aussie wildlife and did much for his country on an international platform. To die at such a young age by a stingray barb's bite whilst filming a documentary is hard to digest. Aside from the many layers of irony we can rationalise through, I arrive once more at the emoticon.
Firstly there is the problem of finding an appropriate symbol. There are no crocodiles so turtles have to make do. I am not sure how much he has done for turtles but being in the same reptilian family, I figure they just have to stand in. [tongue in cheek: they look cuter on screen than crocs do] Secondly after inserting the symbol into the nickname, is there a corresponding discussion and reflection on the significance of his death? I mean if it appears for a reason, the reason has to be talked about, right?

Leave your turtle on. Who knows you may like it so much that you decide to include it into your nickname long after international mourning has faded away. It could be you never knew you could add turtles until the phenomenon took many on MSN by storm.
I find it amazing how easy it has become to establish your identity on the internet. The phenomenal emoticon - at once inclusive and divisive.

squeak*

2006-08-29T20:07:00.000-07:00

Raphael, an Asian guy from France who considers himself French not Asian, is at a housewarming party.
Chris 'Willie' gets introduced to him. As per abnormal the subject of less-than-common names crops up. Chris does an Aussie double take on this new acquaintance's:
Raphael... That is like AFL, but not quite?

[AFL:- Australian Football League]

Wait on the Lord Ps 27:14

2006-08-29T17:54:00.000-07:00

Today's morning devotion from Spurgeon is about waiting on Him, not a faithless stubborn wait but a prayerfilled, faithful and confident one.
How appropriate this is for me! Can I blame Him for not delivering His promises in the time I desire? Can I blame Him for not giving me what I want? It is easy to be deceived into thinking that getting a high paying job, a good looking mate, valedictory honours and praise for slinky dancing on the clubfloors as the best we can ever achieve in this stage of our lives. The above may be deemed as good but conjecturing is not the issue here.
When others have moved on and sought other purposes in life, are we still there holding on to a status hoping that this is all we've worked thus long for, and is where we want to remain till our end days draw near? Wait not on the desires and standards of the world because they are never constant. One day you can be a world-famous Pop artist, the next day critics discover the allure of NeoClassicism again and you become a living (perhaps)legend whose next big break may come when you are long passed away. Then again many will say you are lucky to have even been famous once.

I want to be renewed once more, in Spirit and in truth, and obedient in standing by my covenant with You.

'Now, Lord, not my will, but Yours be done. I know not what to do; I am brought to extremities, but I will wait until You shall cleave the floods, or drive back my foes. I will wait, if You keep me many a day, for my heart is fixed upon you alone, O God, and my spirit waits for You in the full conviction that You will yet be my joy and my salvation, my refuge and my strong tower.'
Amen.

The Weakest Thing

2006-08-21T22:57:00.000-07:00

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Which is the weakest thing of all
Mine heart can ponder?
The sun, a little cloud can pall
With darkness yonder?
The cloud, a little wind can move
Where'er it listeth?
The wind, a little leaf above,
Though sere, resisteth?

What time that yellow leaf was green,
My days were gladder;
But now, whatever Spring may mean,
I must grow sadder.
Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring
My lips asunder -
Then is mine heart the weakest thing
Itself can ponder.

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined
And drop together,
And at a blast, which is not wind,
The forests wither,
Thou, from the darkening deathly curse
To glory breakest, -
The Strongest of the universe
Guarding the weakest!

My heart is heavy. It has almost gained a life of its own. Never have I felt a heaviness so profound yet so inexplicable that it escapes any knowledge I associate with the concept of gravitas.
Well the line 'Then is mine heart the weakest thing/Itself can ponder' struck me quite poignantly. I do not regard the heart and the mind as separate entities but replace the word 'heart' with 'mind' in the line above, and it read, to me, as something true and yet so hard to explain in relation to my current situation.

Come unto me,
all you that labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you,
and learn of me;
for I am meek and lowly in heart:
and you shall find rest unto your souls.

For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light.

Tonic soup for the soul

2006-08-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

Yes with chicken... and I am not infringing on any copyrights. - . -
I recently heard a friend was going through quite a tough one with migraines and giddiness. That I can probably attribute, knowing that bit about her, to a poor diet and perhaps a rather lopsided lifestyle.
And I am concerned as to where all this is leading, or might lead.

So off I trekked to the asian grocers and started scouring the shelves for chinese herbs. In my left hand I held a packet of Eu Yan Sang vitality tonic soup. In it the kind manufacturers had portioned out all the ingredients necessary to make a good balanced brew. I stood there staring at the ingredients listed at the back of the packet - condon opsis, lycium whatever whatever, polygonatum and whatever whatever. One of the whatevers I never found, even upon looking at the chinese characters (I have never read characters on a supermarket's shelf label before); so I replaced it with red dates.
My friend and I figure dates will work. After all I remember mum using them for Sunday's soups. To the one(s) consuming the fruits of my culinary labour: hope they all work out for the better.

Good tonic soups are supposed to be balanced - not too heaty and not too cooling.

There is a slight problem. I am not sure how much of each to put. Going with the 'everything in moderation' maxim for most food, I hope it all goes well, balance included.

Honestly I am not sure if the soup is going to be of any significant help. If not it will at least have chicken. Which I am sure beats instant Japanese curry rice and Coke anytime.

As for migraines and the hidden inner workings of the body: the power lies in prayer.

confessionals on the dashboard

2006-08-13T21:21:00.000-07:00

I will always remember what Joshua said (the Lin who had much to say about everything): making friends is a choice, it is not about being naturally shy or introverted.

Even though I have used 'introvert' on many occasions before, I always wondered if it was more a convenient label than an all-encompassing description.

He said he was rather quiet last time and took awhile to make friends. Observing the ease with which he comes up with and expounds on any topic available, you're keen to think otherwise. What he said got me thinking quite a bit.

I am not the natural people person/party energiser (the meaning of natural will not find itself an exposition here) and for long I have chosen to assume it is true of myself. Associating myself with such a description was easy and comfortable and often a convenient means of escaping tacky social situations.

It was more likely a personal conviction than a public declaration, for who really passes through the door and proclaims his proclivity to be quiet and perhaps a tad unapproachable? And then of course the body language says so much more.

So why did I decide to write about such a choice here? Honestly I cannot fully explain why except I do not want to forget ever thinking about this issue, and posts simply allow me the privilege to read past entries and recall a strand of my thoughts.

Do I defend myself from the possibilities of being hurt by what strangers or new acquaintances might say? Have I allowed past experiences dictate (if I used 'affect' instead this question would have been a truism) how I relate to others?
Do I use certain newfound friendships as platforms where I can project all my insecurities onto - by boasting about what I am good at, or take it all out on others in hopes that doing such will reap fewer repercussions than with more seasoned friendships?
Has making friends become more an excursion of filling up gaping holes in our confidence and assurance of who we are than about love? Have relationships become stopgap measures undertaken to counter fear?

I just realised how disjointed this whole entry is. I guess I am reflecting on what my friends have said to me, how I have treated friendships before, and how my friends have treated me. All I can truly say is: realisation and self-awareness of what I had done is prompted by what others do to me.

Truth begets truth. Is that true?

When we learn

2006-08-09T05:32:00.000-07:00

Today my country of birth celebrates her 41st birthday. Granted. But tonight let me hold her in prayer - I pray that the depressed, oppressed and stressed out many will be saved from within their hearts. I pray that He will use the nation, which has been blessed so abundantly by His grace and grace alone; to bless others with food, a listening ear, medical supplies etc. I pray that we will not nestle in our comfort zones and ignore the world where many are needy and desperate for hope.
Lord there is a calling for this small nation. Help us respond passionately to Your plans for this world of ours, so wrecked by wars, plagues, famine, corruption and psychological malaise. Let us be humble servants with soft gentle hearts and joyful spirits that many, through our actions, can receive Your Light into their hearts and lives.

Hallelujah! Amen.

Cathartic carnival, or not?

2006-07-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I was blog-surfing through many webbies erected by mates from my Junior College days. All were of the personal rehash of certain significant events type. Most were written in considerably good English, this you would half expect given the academic credentials most of them claim to possess. Fair enough. Out of the 12 or so that I cursorily glossed through, only one talked at length about her walk with God. No judgment here just a heightened awareness toward such things, given how important He has become to me.

The importance of faith.

I realised how far I have come since starting university in Melbourne, how He has divinely appointed me to reexamine my life in a new place, with new people. Looking through my friends' blogs, I am thankful that my worth in people's eyes is no longer gauged by which university I attend, acquisition of scholarship grants, the clothes I choose to wear, the number of parties I crash, ability to down copious amounts of liquor, number of times hearts get broken in relationships, or filling my portfolio with 'achievements'. I will not say any of the above is necessarily bad. I have my opinions of course. But I am thankful for the freedom I have to make choices; choose not to have my identity aligned with any of the above, and not be condemned for this.

Maybe some will think me silly - in the prime of my youthful life and not dancing the nights away, or experimenting with things I most probably will not get a chance to do when life throws other 'commitments' at me later... perhaps filing the accusation that I am no fun because I am so singular minded.

How about living your life for a single purpose from now till the last few days of your life here? Maybe it is how making such a choice brings new perspectives into your life, and as with most perspectives you can either ignore or adopt.

If I were ever to meet up with my JC fellows again, how would the experience be like? Maybe they will be talking about snagging a job at a multinational company and numerous perks; receiving an offer to complete postgraduate at a prestigious institution; attending press conferences for them...
Or maybe they will be sharing notes on marriage, child-rearing, car models, property prices, insurance plans, and living life in the Big 3-.

For me? there is the security of leaning on Someone who knows what is best for me and brings me precisely to where I need to be.

Slotting In

2006-07-15T01:32:00.000-07:00

Coming home this time, for a glorious three weeks, has been repulsive.
Why the repulse? Because of witnessing things I wish not to see, of doing things I think I am inadequate in handling alone, of being deprived of space and time to rest... oh so much and I am tired.
Repulsed by the 'me' who knows I am seeing more of me than of others and who takes her own discomfort to heart. I am just being selfish I admit. I could create a list and strike off item after item that which frustrates me to my core. I did not do up any list with an exacting nature but the mind came close and for a long while my heart was unrelenting. So why?

Because I felt my trust was violated, not on all fronts, just one. The first and last brick which sent the whole tottering edifice crashing down.
A guitar string, stretched too taut for its body to bear, instead of producing melody stumps its player. Pluck too hard and it might snap, recoiling into dark angry swirls, useless but an art to behold. Literally nonetheless.
I was still held in place but everything esle seemed so desperate, in need of grace and a gentle touch. What do I do when I am repulsed, disgusted, my insides tormented by a trust mishandled and a security distorted? I did not know. All I knew was I had to seek Him for a lesson in forgiveness.

Not the forgiveness I was struggling with months ago and which took me months to bring into conscious being. This was new, essentially the same, but requiring more of me because it was closer to home. [I am not forsaking this pun.] Why God? Why did I return to Singapore just to go through all this? Is this how palpable hurt can be? That those closest, those who love you most, can also be so careless? so ignorant? so quiet, not with apology but a lack of true understanding.
And then I realise how blessed I really am to have Him around, the One who knows how wrecked my heart was, the silent inexplicable cries I cannot express in words. His Love is not careless, is understanding, is forgiving, is ever abundant. What we need He gives, and teaches us that we may be human mirrors of His love to others around us.

I am learning what it is to forgive. I realised it is not easy because it means putting aside that which I held onto in the past - wilfulness, bitterness, anger and disappointment. Thank You for helping me make this choice and for promising to guide me through this.

This holiday has yet to end. What a holiday it has been! This I proclaim with no sarcasm and irony. Aside from the haircut, the purchases and food treats, I take home to Melbourne many lessons.
Thank You for being my foundation.

A Prayer for Serenity

2006-07-06T07:11:00.000-07:00

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things

I cannot change;

the courage to change

the things I can;

and the wisdom

to know the difference.

- Reinhold Niebuhr

Pirouetting on the head

2006-06-30T20:29:00.000-07:00

We are given the breadth of the act of making choices. I do not mean the choice to select a Gucci handbag over a vintage bargain. This is a choice hedged in by economic constraints. It is not about true choice because it does not begin on level playing ground. In the end I may realise that neither a designer acquisition nor a dated steal is what I need. The real choice could be just deciding to dispense off the thought of spending. Choices become not a split between wants but a knowledge of needs over desires.
There are choices which upon making, clothes us in what we want to be identified with.
Excuses in the guise of calculated decisions aside; what we take for granted as natural choices which have to be made in life, are not as natural as we think they are. Two analogies put across over the past week has given me room for contemplation. Whether I remain in this room, or walk new paths in search of seemingly more comfortable accommodation, is all truly a matter of choice.

Tim shared his thoughts on feelings in response to the question 'Are we not how we feel?'
He reached out and touched Richard. I am feeling Richard but I am not Richard. Likewise let us imagine there is a dark, dirty troll in front of me. I am feeling him with both my hands. The more I touch the dirtier I get. Let us call our troll Mr Depressed. The more I feel him the more depressed I think I am, seeing my hands get soiled by his filth. I feel Depressed but I am not Depressed. We identify ourselves not with our emotions because emotions come and go. They will come and yes we are created to feel angry, happy, upset, irritated, peaceful. However the more we think we feel angry we gradually believe we are angry. Thinking on such things lead to an acting on them. Do we want others to identify us with emotions? Do we align ourselves according to the state of emotion/s we are in?

I am reading Max Lucardo's A Love Worth Living. He writes beautifully. When I arrived at this passage towards the middle of the book, my mind started making some connections. I'll quote in full.
Some folks don't know we have an option. To liten to our vocabulary you'd think we are the victims of our thoughts. "Don't talk to me," we say. "I'm in a bad mood." As if a mood were a place to which we were assigned ("I can't call you. I'm in Bosnia.") rather than an emotion we permit. Or we say, "Don't mess with her. She has a bad disposition." Is a disposition something we have? Like a cold or the flu? Are we the victims of the emotional bacteria of the season? Or do we have a choice?

People can advice you against being trapped in the throes of anger or depression or attempt to help pull you out of damaging states of emotional being. I may be generalising and that I fully acknowledge. However we are still given the choice to seek the strength to step out of these states we, more than often, so willingly succumb ourselves to.
Just like He gave us the freedom to choose, we can align our choices next to His desires and plans for us; that in the end it is not a choice between emotions which characterises us but a choice to let our identity be found in Him.

We capture every thought and make it give up and obey Christ.
2 Corinthians 10:5

He does not compels us to. We may not be able to stop the emotions from flowing but we can manage how we handle them. Our identity can be more stable than the pirouettes from mind to heart and to mind again, which emotions take us through.

Bouquets to savour

2006-06-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

It is morning. Good morning! It took me just over an hour to depart from my warm sheets. What an effort! That is why, especially on days when the pantry is low on decent brekkie munchables, much has to be done to put together a great energy booster.
And I am having it now, my cup of chai latte, warm and simmering in a gorgeous mug Mel gave me. The noble piece of china deserves some fair description. It is cream with a dainty handle, slim base, and wide generous rim to bless its drinker with sumptuous sips of tea. Very Victorian. Lovely imprints of flowers pirouette across the surface and dip their delicate petals right into the inside of the mug. So even as you start getting lost savouring liquid ambrosia, a reminder of the world peeps in and startles you with its cheery audacity.
How dare it do so!

My chai latte making skills are improving. Or rather my selection of ingredients to prepare the brew is improving. The best concoction so far, though future ones are bound to best my 'best so far', is

a sachet of chai tea leaves
2/3 parts hot water (left to cool for a couple of minutes after boiling)
1/3 parts soy milk (whipped with a spoon - please do not roll eyes)
generous amounts of honey (ie. as much as your palate desires)

add the ingredients into your choiciest mug in the order they appeared above. And with the spoon that whipped the milk (no overwhipping either, please) stir the concoction. It will remain a camel-coloured concoction till you put it to your lips, which in slightly skilled hands and a generous spirit, will caress your tastebuds lurvingly.

Are you there yet?
Chai is a fantastic creation. Black tea leaves usually spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamon or anise. Very Indian. Very very clever =)
I am working through my box of sachets. I know these bundles look nothing like black tea leaves and spices. But I have a packet of proper tea leaves with spices which I look fondly on as I drink my tea. Good imagination stimuli, and I remain hopeful. Till the day I get it almost up to lux perfection (I have about 18 sachets to experiment) -
It will taste so good that my flowers will want to dip their perky heads into my brew every morning. For as long as I decide to savour it slowly that is!

Comfort stamps out Confusion

2006-06-15T17:02:00.000-07:00

Some are longwinded, some short and abrupt; some digress, some are but rhetorics;
some are polite, some hollow and sweet; many are insufficient and many are inexperienced - and hence immature, confused, confusing.
but those which come from Him, few when compared to the proliferate issuing from others' mouths, are thoughtful and deliver more than our questions, and thoughts, asked for.

I had questions and I wanted answers. Answers. Why did it seem like there were none? A few entries back I was bemoaning the dryness in my life, the joy which has seemed to seep out of my body through rivers I did not even know were sucking my lifeline out of me.
He gave me Psalm 51 on Sunday and I was to pray on it if I believed it spoke to me. I did. Afterall I had no idea what better to do.

Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

Have I lost the direction where the wellspring is calling me from? Am I... lost? My only sacrifice is a broken spirit and a broken and contrite heart. What more can I give? I am so broken and, if it could not be worse, I only just realised I was. I was almost a pauper, with a comfortable life and material possessions, but a desperate aching heart that needed an outpouring once more.

Restore - there was a store of joy within me, small but willing and ready. But was it enough to sustain? Like our bodies are intelligent creations that know how to slow down operations in order to conserve what energy remains; the joy was sufficient but it has, because of some of my wanton actions, become all but a paltry bumbling brook.

Psalms is not just a book of calling out to God in our deepest distresses. It is above all a Book of Praises. No matter how many times David wails, pleads and groans, he always ends his prayer with praise. Giving thanks, and thanks again, and again.

And He answers, through His Spirit dwelling deep within me. He is the source of all comfort and where joy resides in. That is why joy brings restful peace for it comes from an abundant, ever-giving source. Jesus.
Who gives the most unusual answers.

poetic
evocative
expressed through a deeply felt desire to worship
to praise
a compelling need to write
what I read
understanding begets understanding

His answers are all done through, and lived through, me. I become His answers to me. There is no confusion. How can there be if there exists no one or thing who can interfere? His answers take the longest time to be completely revealed, and the shortest to know what has to be said.

The answers are there but do I hear them? It took me two nights to receive it in uncontested entirety. This time from Isaiah 12

I will praise you, Lord.
Although you were angry with me,
your anger has turned away
and you have comforted me.
Behold, God is my salvation;
I will trust and not be afraid:
for the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song;
he has become my salvation.
With joy you will draw water
from the wells of salvation.

That is His answer to me.

where is my heart at now?

2006-06-11T01:09:00.000-07:00

Have I been robbed of the true joy when I least knew it? Have I been trying to convince myself that there is still much joy in my life when I still have not fully recovered from all the afflictions I have lived through over the past few months?

Lord, I yearn to discover that heart of true joy once more. It is more than friendships or circumstances can provide. Yes they are important to me and without great friendships and the awesome circumstances they birth into being I cannot be where I am at.

But Lord, oh Lord, I am crying because I know that a part of me is so so broken. A part of me is afraid I cannot have the joy so lodged within me before once again.

I am so sorry Jesus for doubting You could ever fully heal me of the pain, the torment, the grieving that just keeps coming back and never seems to end.

There is none like You

No one else can touch my heart like You do

I could search for all eternity long

And find there is none like You

Your mercy flows like a river wide

And healing comes from Your hands

Suffering children are safe in Your arms

There is none like You

My Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Holy Spirit, I do not want to lose my source of Joy. Only You know the state of my heart, how messy it has become over the past months, how brokenness follows brokenness, how thin and frail my self has become.

I need You to heal me once more. Fix up the brokenness because Lord I am tired of the despair. Holy Spirit set me free and soaring on Your wings of peace and love.

I can hold up in front of my loved ones, smile for them and laugh with them, listen to their troubles. But Lord only You know the struggles I go through. I invite You to take charge of my life. I repent for all the many times I ignored the call of Your voice, when I struggled to bear and handle my burdens. I have been stubborn.

Holy Spirit I am running dry and I am near barren. I welcome You in once more to fill me. No more rituals or running through the motions. Emmanuel, You are here with me always. I thank You for always drawing me back to You. And I need You ever so much more now.

Lord I need the joy only You can give me.

Strong Enough

2006-06-06T05:35:00.000-07:00

How many times do we blame ourselves incessantly the moment we fall into a pit, by conscious choice or careless mistake? When the momentum of self-pity the blame drags us into is far more destructive than the initial problem itself.
Why do we strive so hard not knowing if the goals are what we truly need? Why the endless battles against the slings and arrows of the world with hefty burdens on our backs? Why the mutilation of our emotional, mental and spiritual states whenever things do not seem to go well at all?
We are so weak. We all cry. Whether tears flow or not, the heart sheds tears of moaning. He knows the weight of each tear that falls and His heart knows our heartbeat of pain. But He is not helpless with the suffering, as most of us can be when our loved ones are beaten down.
He comforts and says, 'I will fill you with a joy so deep and eternal that all your troubles and suffering will no longer be insurmountable.'

As I rest against this cold hard wall, will you pass me by?
Will you criticize me as I sit and cry?
I had fought so hard and thought that all my battles had been won
Only to find the war had just begun

Is He not strong enough?
Is He not pure enough?
To break me, pour me out and start again?
Is He not brave enough?
To take one chance with me
Please can I have one chance to start again

Will my weakness fall and and now make me suffer for a lifetime?
Is there any way to be made whole again
If I be renewed and find forgiveness by the strength I've never had
Will my scars forever ruin all God's plans?

Is He not strong enough?
Is He not pure enough?
To break me, pour me out and start again?
Is He not brave enough?
To take one chance with me
Please can I have one chance to start again

He took my life into His hands
And turned it all around
In my most desperate circumstance, is where I'm finally found
That You are strong enough
That You are pure enough
To break me, pour me out and start again
That You are brave enough
To take one chance on me,
Oh thank You for my chance to start again

Stacie Orrico 'Strong Enough'

Cards n Such

2006-06-05T04:32:00.000-07:00

My heart melted when I received a thick ecru envelope with two rows of stamps plastered on the front. I recognised my father's elegant script. Ahhhhh! The joy of receiving a simple something from home!

It is truly awesome what a card can do.
I do not need an expensive present, a lavish dinner, a photogenic cake or a congregation of people throwing a party. Something simple will do.

But sometimes I wonder if more could be said. hmmmm

'For a Special Sister' (I'm a special sister to my one and only sister in the world, how's that for an irreplaceable relationship?!) My sis wrote 'dear Jie Jie' in her neat, reserved font and ended with a doodle of a flower (which looks a bit like a frangipani) and a snail (she remembers my snail!!!). The flower spoke 'Wishing you a Happy 21st Birthday!!!' and she ended With Love, Xiaohua =)
So sweet! I kind of wished she said a bit more. But it still warms my heart that she wrote a card, whatever was said and not said, the words still said enough.

'Daughter, Thinking of you on your birthday, and smiling' My father wrote 祝你生日快乐. He has gorgeous penmanship and having the characters printed on was beautiful in themselves. And my mum's cursive hand 'Dearest Xiaohui,... Wishing You A Happy 21st Birthday!'... I am such a truly blessed princess of the King!

The joys of being loved by the people who love you the most in this world - my family, makes me realise just how blessed I am. To recognise their handwriting instinctively and connect it to each special person in my life... I am thankful for being having the opportunities to know them in so intimate a manner.

Of course I sometimes wish they said a bit more. But it is more than the words. It is the spaces in between the scribbles, the loving intentions which truly lift my days.

I am very happy. Joyful

Words are birthed from the heart

2006-05-24T22:11:00.000-07:00

Words are powerful entities.

What had been said can hurt and what had not been said can do likewise. Sometimes it is what could be said but was not and was instead replaced by other more hurtful words, that becomes from this act of displacement even more hurtful.

There are so many other ways of putting things across, why do people choose to be more lackadaisical, more flippant, and become more careless with their words?

Maybe it is not just with words. I could really be too sensitive. I could also be the one in the wrong.

But what saved me from a vicious crumbling from within is the power of His Word.
With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.
- Matthew 19:26

I learnt from personal experience with people I regard as friends (note the use of present tense) that those whom you love much can still hurt you with their words. And thence I should be even more cautious of what I say.

I remember the teaching about words emanating from human mouths and representing human intentions:

A good man out of the good treasure of the heart brings forth good things: and an evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth evil things.
But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.
For by your words you shall be justified, and by your words you shall be condemned.
- Matthew 12:35-37

To comfort and be corrected for my, and others', good - this is indeed grace.

A willing anhedonia

2006-05-23T00:42:00.000-07:00

I remember those years of 'fun' I had when I was younger and more wilful. I do not see regard my then-self as foolish, wasted or stupid. I was none of those. But now I realise I simply wanted more.
Am I somehow grateful I went through the experience of clubbing? Well you do not have to club to find out you do not like it, and hence boast to others that through personal experience you realise clubbing is 'not my thing'. That is really nonsense.
My friend once said that she ever did think about smoking a cigarette just to be able to tell others that she has tried it and can assuredly say it is not her thing.
You do not have to experience something to say it is not what you will ever do. Drugs for one, getting drunk for another, and having abortion amongst others.

I probably clubbed a total of about 10 times in my entire life. That is, to some a significant lot, to others a paltry few. To me, it was almost enough to know what I wanted for myself. I do not mean that I had to club in order to arrive at any point of self-realisation.
Are such experiences pleasurable? No. The process itself was never fully pleasurable and the end results certainly weren't.

Which makes me wonder why we go through such tedious lengths to justify or defend our reasons for doing such and such. We definitely do not need to justify the good. As for the bad...

Why do you smoke? Why do you consume excessive amounts of alcohol? Why do you try to lose all inhibitions through substance consumption?
Some say you reveal the true you when you're drunk or high or in other unknown states of being. I am convinced that the real you is when you are fully conscious of where you stand and what you are saying or doing. Anything esle is mediated escapism. If you cannot, in your normal conscious state, affirm who you are, can an unnatural external matter help others understand who you are?
I say others because when you have lost control over yourself, you are no longer in control. It is worse when you cede control to something or someone which/who does not intend any good for you.

Give up smoking. Give up drinking. Give up clubbing. Give up drugs. Give up over-shopping and over-eating. Don't you ever wanted pleasures which are more pleasurable than these? Or are these pleasures all you ever desired and hoped to live with?