Getting to Know You

Where I End and You Begin

I'm on the road to completing studying for Promos. Finished Brave New World with Nicole today, and I think I'm done with Math. Be jealous.

And once again I'm back to the place where the world seems fine but I know it's not. I think I'll always have this struggle with God. When things are going good in my Walk, everything else crumbles and falls. When I'm falling away, life is good. Someone once asked why I did not fall away, seeing clearly, in his words, that life is better without God. But I know that's not true. Life with God was never meant to be a bed of roses. God molds us through challenges and trials, and we get stretched and we grow.

CF Installation today was good. I think I enjoyed service. It was a breather from grounds I know so well. I think I need to love my Comm though. I know I don't. It's like, more of a working relationship, but somehow that's not exactly right. I want God to work in us and through us for ACJC. Events like REW and Passion AC can't merely be events we hold due to tradition, but they are platforms for God to move. I admit I cannot understand the shallow, myopic, narrowmindedness of certain people, I seriously don't understand how they can do they things they do. But I know I need to reserve judgment, for it is not mine to give.

And maybe starting over was the best decision I've ever made this year. I think we're both happy now (I know I am). I know I'm beginning to trust; to open up; to learn to be vulnerable. I know I might end up hurt, but I'm learning to trust that you won't use me. People say we'll never really truly know or be able to describe what love is. I admit I'll never fully know what it means to love, or to even love, but from what I know of it, I know I do love you.

I still feel this song sums it up aptly.

Giving It Away
by Mae

By the way you brought me here
It makes me believe
The best is still yet to come
And I don't want to leave

Forgive my hesitation
But I'm learning to trust in you
Help me to dream these dreams
Because I don't have a clue

If you'd be honest
And say what you mean
You know I would promise
I'd do anything because
I know that without you
I'm giving it away

Is this what you wanted?
Cause I'm willing to change
Now that I'm certain
That there's much more to gain
You've introduced me to the moment
But I'm looking to stay for good
You asked me to stay forever
Well, you know that I would
I would do anything

If you'd be honest
And say what you mean
You know I would promise
I'd do anything because
I know that without you
I'm giving it away

The nights are forever
And maybe I'm wrong
But it feels like
I'm so lost without you
So I step towards the heat
It's the way I can see
And it makes me believe that it's you

By the way you brought me here
It makes me believe
The best is still yet to come
And I don't want to leave
I won't, but anyway

If you'd be honest
And say what you mean
You know I would promise
I'd do anything because

The nights are forever
I can't get to sleep cause
I know there's a reason
I'm in this too deep
And I'm sure that without you
I'm giving it away
Giving it away

Giving Unreservedly

Let me pen down my thoughts on something. I desperately need to get it out of my system.

Maybe I thought of being nice today, and stayed back to wait for someone after school. I texted the person to call me when she's done with lessons and all. 4.30pm - the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I called. No response.

I waited, and called another 7 times. Still no response. By the time it was 5pm, I decided to leave school but take my fury back home with me.

On the way back, I rationalised what could have happened. Maybe she was busy. But why couldn't she pick up the phone? A whole stream of thoughts crossed my mind, and none seemed to justify my half hour spent waiting, plus the hour I spent doing nothing because I wanted to wait.

And it turns out she ended PW at 6.30pm, and couldn't pick up the phone as she was rushing work. Does it all seem justified to you?

You know, it does. You would agree. I had no right to get angry. Really. If anything, it was my choice to wait. She never agreed to anything. It was my initiative.

And you know what? Initiatives are one sided things. Reciprocated they make someone's day, unreciprocated and they tear your world apart. But at the end of the day, it is my fault. Definitely. No one could blame her as she never agreed to anything.

And at the end of it all, I waited, and all she had to say was, "It's okay."

Damn you it's not okay.

Why is there always a bloody price to give unreservedly? Yes, once again it risks getting hurt and being disappointed. But you have no one to blame but yourself, because you tried to. It was never an agreement.

And just yesterday I said I'd try to do so. I just can't take it. Seriously. I think this is killing me.

When everything's good, it's ever so smooth sailing, and you feel on top of the world. Yet when things go wrong, it never rains but pours. Why? I can't figure it out. I can't figure you out. Maybe I don't know myself. Maybe I'm not ready.

So many fears and insecurities at present. This is more than I can handle. And this is why I'll lift my eyes to You Lord. I'll let you take control. I guess I haven't really been doing that.

Into Your Hand
I commit again
With all I am
For You Lord

Psalm 139:24
"See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting."

I Lied

I'm back here once again.

I don't suppose anyone reads this, so this should probably be private, though I'll never know for sure. I guess I'll take the chance anyway.

It's been hell, really. I think one word will be the bane of my existence - commitment. I'm tired from everything. I'm tired from serving in church; I no longer see a point in doing so. My passion just isn't there anymore. And the admin matters behind closed doors just kill any passion you had which caused you to start in the first place. And people nowadays are just ungrateful (insert word here). I will not be self-righteous and say I can serve without recognition and be content with just knowing that what I do is the right thing. It's too idealistic, really. Deep down we all want to be appreciated, to know that what we're doing is worth it. At times, I wish self-validation would suffice, and thankfully it still does, to a certain extent.

And I think I'm spiralling downwards. I'm feeling my lowest now this year, when everything seems to be going well. Such in the constant contrast between appearance and reality.

No I'm not going on an emo rant about how life sucks. That's just stupid, really.

I think what I want right now is freedom - freedom from judgment, freedom from commitments, freedom from myself. It's strange, but true. I feel so imprisoned, so tied down, so repressed (and no, it's not sexual desires). I just want to escape from this for a while, to take a break from all that I have to do. It's starting to wear me down.

I guess I need to spend time with God. Just shut myself in, and just let go in His Presence. Honestly, it's been so long since I've felt that freedom. I've been caught up with serving, giving, but not receiving.

And I'm thankful for all the friends around:

Bronson: for taking time off on Sunday to meet me for dinner, no matter how short. It was surprising, really. But I suppose best friends never fail you when you need them the most. Thanks for just listening, and being there. Love you bro.

Rachael: for the constant smses of encouragement, and the sharing of our struggles in CF/ SFC. It's not easy, but we'll pull through. You've been someone I can openly share with, and we're almost in similar situations, and I thank God for placing you in my life.

Charmaine: for being my poke-person. Haha. No seriously, just having you around makes life simple, nice and not stressful. You're like my real life stressball, except I poke you. (: Thanks for being there and listening to me even though you have that "I'm lost" expression most of the time. AND YOU ARE SCANDALOUS NO9.

Joanna: you may not know it, but you're the only one who really made me smile this weekend. How you know I'm not feeling good even though I don't talk to you much still astounds me. Thanks for just putting that smile back on my face, with your random msgs. The unpredictability of it all is perhaps the best part of it.

Chloe: for noticing the small things others don't, and for just being there when I need someone. You're never there in my glorious moments, but you're there when I fall and need someone there to pick up me. Most importantly, thank you for believing in me. You were the one who taught me to believe - in others and in myself.

Torn Asunder

things fall apart; the centre cannot hold

(i've moved.)

Life Sucks

Hmmm. Why does life suck?

If it doesn't (to you), why do so many people say it (and maybe even believe it)?

A year older, and none the wiser.

More questions, less answers.

More problems, less presents.

More friends, but even more who want my head.

They say change is the only constant in life; I say it's God.

Good Morning Revival

It's been a while since I last came here. But I'm back to brush the dust of what remains here.

Scholarship interview on Thursday. Not looking forward to it at all.

And it's been a while since I last felt this way.

I Need You

I'm having withdrawal symptoms!

It's been so long since I last had you.

It's all in the chase; the thrill; the exhiliration; that one moment of passion where you lose it all and give it all.

I miss the loosening up of muscles for vigorous activities.

I miss chasing after certain people.

I miss the moments of ecstacy when all is brought to completion - you know it is done.



I miss you - Track and Cross Country.

Burn the Ships

It's been really trying at times. I want to go back to my old life. I want to go back - to running; to track; to cross-country. Why CF? Certain people are called to greatness, and they'll gladly take on the challenge. Why don't You just call those who want to do it?

But I guess Monday's chapel session spoke to me in a different way.

God doesn't call us to serve within our comfort zone, and that has been so clear across this year. Leading the younger youths has never been something I would have kindled a passion for, yet He placed that passion within me. It's not about who they are or how different they are from me, but they are lives entering the Kingdom of God. It's not who they are now, but I believe in who they will become.

And here an old song comes to mind.



Burn the Ships
by Steven Curtis Chapman

In the spring of 1519
A Spanish fleet set sail.
Cortez told his sailors,
"This mission must not fail."
On the eastern shore of Mexico,
they landed with great dreams,
but the hardships of the new world
made them restless and weak.
Quietly they whisper
"Let's sail back to the life we knew"
but the one who led them there was saying,

Chorus:
"Burn the ships!
We're here to stay.
There's no way we could go back now that
we've come this far by faith
Burn the ships.
We've passed the point of no return.
Our life is here so let the ships burn.

In the spring of new beginnings
a searching heart set sail
looking for a new life
and a love that would not fail.
on the shores of grace and mercy
it landed with great joy.
but the enemy was waiting
to steal kill and destroy
Quietly he whispered
"go back to the life you knew"
But the one who led us here was saying

Chorus

Ouch

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.



After Love
by Sara Teasdale

There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.

The Story of Me

We all have our own stories to tell no matter how mundane a life we lead.

And we all want an audience - to share our moments of joy, jubilation, melancholy, sadness, and loneliness with. We all want someone to listen - to our crowning moments of success, to our achievements, to or struggles both within and without. We all want someone to share our views, perceive in the same manner, comprehend with the same thoughts.

We all want to be in touch; we all desire to be touched, to reach out to someone else both physically and emotionally. It is an innate instinct and desire that overpowers, often, any rational sense. We all need to be needed. And that yearning can be so powerful it oftentimes does not matter who that person is.

And at the end what we really want, as Kundera curtly points out, is just for someone to hold a mirror up to ourselves. Friends, companions, acquaintances exist for the sole purpose of reflecting to us what we would like to see and hear of ourselves.

It is the condition of alterity. Empathy, no matter how powerful, is never about the Other. It is always only about 'me'.

Inaction

It's at times like these where I hope my inactions speak louder than my actions.

But who would have read them?

It's not that I don't care.

But maybe I should have acted. Maybe I should have said something. Maybe I should have said everything would be alright.

It's not about the 'maybes' in life, is it?

Less than a week to make up for it.

I dare you to move ;

Ennui

SYLVIA PLATH

Ennui

Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.

The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.

Quintessons

For anyone who watches the ever so popular Transformers series, you would know what I'm talking about.

For those who don't, I shall be kind enough to explain. Quintessons are creatures with 4 to 5 faces. Each face represents a different characteristic, comes across with a different tone, and is unique and different from the other faces. However, the most feared is the face of death, which appears when Quintessons pass sentence on criminals to send them to their demise in the Sharkticon pit.

But are these Quintessons all but a work of Science Fiction and animation?

Apparently not. We all are Quintessons in our own way. We were our different faces (they go by a more common name - facades) to blend in to our circumstances. We switch roles throughout the different acts and scenes in our little micronarrative known as the stage of life. We play the friend, then the backstabber. We play the villain, who saves the life of the hero in the end and redeems himself. We play the leader of the pack, and the follower of another. It does beg the question: what is real(ity)?

Indeed, we weave our lies of deceit and deception ever so well nowadays. We get so caught up in weaving the webs, hoping that they will catch the fragments of life which we want so bad to live out; to become perfect. Do we, at times, live the life we so loosely term "hypocritical"? Do we live lives that are not ours; that cannot be ours? They exist so often in our imagination, in our subconscious, and we blur the distinction between the Dreaming and the Real World.

I've been questioning myself lately. Have I succumbed to the life of duality and double standards? Indeed I wonder whether I would have done things differently if it were in the past. I've thought about it, and the answer is no. It wouldn't change. You've forced my hand. I gave you all the signs, the ominous writings on the wall. You didn't heed them. You've ventured forth obnoxiously, bravely (yet foolishly) incurring my wrath. Now it is my turn to strike back.

Reciprocity

Reciprocity. It sustains the human soul, it gratifies the heart, it stirs a warmth within.

We crave to be reciprocated in every thought and action.

Yet often we give more than we receive... even when we believe we seek not equal measures.

We love more than we are loved... or so we think.

We hope more than what hope can give.

We imagine more than what reality constructs.

We expect more than what reason and rationality can provide.

And so we spend a lifetime waiting for the moments which we feel the exchange to be all worthwhile, and the gift which reciprocates in fullness. But more often than not, these moments rarely arrive. And with each fading hope, each failed attempt, each disappointment, each loss, we die a little inside.

Yet we convince ourselves that it is okay, that life moves on, and that there'd be future opportunities. Our youthful optimism is rekindled. We wander into imagination to hope further even when we know some things will never be. But we do so regardless.

This is the paradox of human nature - between memory and desire. We will always set ourselves up for a fall. We are addicted to pain and disappointment. Yet we are creatures of hope, desire and dreams. For without these hopes and aspirations, anticipations and expectations, life remains a meaningless monotony. Thrown into the throng of life we will always be struggling to accept reality or re-create it.

Which is the lesser of two evils?

I haven't found mine yet.

Regardless of all this, I know that I love you. I do.

Demons

We all have them.

They came in all shapes, sizes, forms, and manifestations. We call them skeletons in the closet; we call them the repressed; we call them desires; we call them vice; we call them greed. But a rose by any other name... We all have them.

Most of us have more than just skeletons. Within us are corporeal, carnal beasts of burden. At times they incestously breed; at others it is a mere solitary beast. But they are ever present, every waking moment, with every passing consciousness. They haunt existence itself.

It is the condition of life - to be constantly struggling against the beasts we lock deep within in the dark abyss that is our soul. Each day, from behind the dim-lit dungeon walls they seek to claw their way to consciousness, to action. They howl, they shriek in agony, they yearn to be fulfilled, to be satisfied, to be released from the grills that encage desire and instinct.

These are our inner demons, ever trying to break free of their imprisonment within us. We suppress them, yet they yearn to be unleashed. These are the more dangerous breed; demons that no one else sees nor knows of their existence, until they take us over. We fight valiantly against them, locking them inside their cages, hoping that we can throw the key away forever. Yet ethereal bars of steel cannot keep them in. At times, they take over, and at times we lose all control and succumb to the beast within us. We go on rampages, acting on all our deep subconscious desires, and especially that of our repressed fantasies. They tear down our defenses, changing us from Jekyll to Hyde, empowering and embodying us. We leave a trial of destruction in our wake, seeking that which feeds our darkest desires - of lust, of greed, of revenge.

Some of us pretend they don't exist for ignorance is indeed bliss. Some choose to admit defeat and succumb to the demonic devourings. Those who storm the battlefronts valiantly and vigilantly suffer the fate of battle scars and weariness.

But for us who do, each demon we confront and choose to banish is a moment of triumph, a growth for the inner child. At the end, we hope that in the twilight of our years we could return to the state we came - pure, untainted, beautiful... and good.

But if, and should, my inner demons take over, rest assured, once they are done with me, they'll come for you.

Accessorise

A recent shopping trip and the conversation that ensued brings me to this.

Is anything around us ever as simple as it seems? In almost everything around us today, there is a need to be more than normal; to stand out; to be different; to be noticed. The saying goes, "A rose is a rose is a rose," and indeed, a rose by any other name is a rose. Therefore, by applying that, if I wanted to get a bag, I should be able to just grab one off the shelf and use it. But that's not the case, is it? So many things today are more than what they were made to be; they need serve more than their basic purpose so they sell. We craft, design, innovate to make our products (be it material or ourselves) stand out from others.

A bag serves the purpose of a storage space, to take something along with us, yet at the same time, freeing our hands. But just look at the deviations today - harversacks, pouches, sling bags, sling bags with compartments specially meant to store laptops in, and so on. And within each subgroup lie even more variants. We have different colours, different sizes, different materials, but all for what purpose? More than to give the option of choice, it stems from the need to create identity - to be unique.

But the more pressing question has nothing to do with consumer goods and marketing strategies. It begs us to take an introspective approach and reflect upon how such culture has become a part of our lives. What has happened to the saying, "Just be yourself" ? Have we lost who we really are?

Why do we dress up (aside from wanting to look our best)? Why don't we just standardise what we wear and create a uniformity which many claim will bring stability? Why do we accessorise - the bracelets, chains, necklaces, earrings, bangles? Why have we come to the place of wanting to BE somebody, instead of embracing the fact that we ARE somebody? Why do we paint, refurbish and refurnish the rooms of our lives? We do so to look presentable to those who will step into ours, and hope to make that impression on them. And indeed, I see nothing wrong with doing so.

But who are we when we are bare; when we remove all that we put on to look good? Are we still presentable, or do we only look good wearing the facade that masks our scarred imperfection we try to hard to sweep under the rug? Who are we, really - masks and all aside?

I've realised I've painted my walls, brought in new furniture, desperately trying to make that impression. But like someone once asked me...

what really matters?

Hourglass

A draft I never did have the time to publish last year, so here it is.



We mark yet again the end of a year, the trace of history, the passing of time. And it is that time we set new resolutions, project futures, emplace hopes and dreams for the coming year.

Yet why do we celebrate the end of a cycle and desire a new one? Why do we rejoice in what is merely an arbitrary concept of entities passing through, flowing, and 'moving' somewhere. Why do we exult in what is perhaps a mental measure of our ageing process.

Time (as it is so commonly touted) the very essence.

But what is time? Its definition is, perhaps like all linguistic signifiers, elusive and dislocated for one can only explain time in the discourse of signifiers. We never can explain time without gesturing to other signifiers. Time has always been, is and always will be defined in terms of its manifestations, of other sign systems.

For many, time is a concept known as minutes and seconds, the ticking of the clock, the digital turn on the screen, the ripening of years, the succession of generations, the passing of moments, the setting of milestones, wealth and profit, the rising and going-down of the sun, daylight and darkness, revolutions of the earth, distance, duration, memory, deja vu, the beginning and the end, the past, present and future, life, death, and eternity.

However we choose to define it, time cannot be defined. It is always already the impossible. Yet it dictates social structures and convention, manipulates our routines, cripples the mind with fears of mortality, establishes culture and cultural beliefs, tradition and action, entraps with transcience. And when we ponder on how mankind celebrates somewhat significant and cherised moments such as a birthday, the passing of a year, and the enterprise of festivals and festivities, we ask of ourselves why.

Everything is built on the unchallenged dogma that time passes and is therefore precious, invaluable and real...

But Time is the very construct of man. It is artifice itself.

Devised by the Sumerian civilisation in 2000BC, refined by the Greeks and Romans, mechanised by the English, adopted by the world, time is, for all its worth, a construct, perhaps an illusion. And so are all facets and the many faces of time - the lunar, solar, gregorian calendars, dates, months, years.

So here's to a Happy New Year. There is indeed much to celebrate when we realise how we have become victims of our own device / devise.

Educators

Educators - most call them teachers, a few term them friends; but what they do is teach.

They are set in the system to teach us about life and what is important to life. They teach to prepare us for the world and work ahead. They teach to impart skills that are said to transcend the classroom and its learning. And in doing so, as is the inevitable when teaching about life, they teach us what it means to be human.

Yet, recent experiences have cast doubt on the goals and purposes of educators as I've known them for the past two years. What I've seen and witness has not adequately reflected and embodied behavior and attitudes that we should live life by.

All I see is the strife and ambition, bearing no consequences to what destruction they leave in their wake as long as they get what they so desperately long for. To them, the means will always justify the ends. I see backbiting and betrayal as if loyalty were a foregone utopia. I see no semblance of the friendships and brotherhoods they tell us our youth would forge. I see no care nor concern for "the future of the nation", when all they want is in the now. Students and their grades are but the tools by which they get what they strife for. Fame, accolades, promotions, recognition - all these are more important than the well-being our the very fragile minds they were meant to nurture and develop.

Whatever happened to morals, ethics and values; to trust, love, integrity and honesty? What happened to the practice of doing what's right instead of what's easy? These people have become the values they so falsely preach against.

It is indeed a shame...

And that is why I'm leaving. For more than all the academic purposes and courses I seek to take elsewhere, my value system cannot be eroded by such false prophets in our midsts. I am shunned, for I dare to be different; for seeing more than my peers; for realising the falsehoods and lies that they would try to cover up in their hypocrisy.

And that is why I'm leaving. I love to learn, and they have taught me nothing.

Wishful Thinking

I'm back from the doctor's. No history exam tomorrow for me. Two day MC. Brilliant I say. More sleep's around the corner. The much needed respite's always welcome.

I was wondering today if the world would be a happier and simple place without reasons and reasoning; without the very art of substantiation and logic that grounds our faith in society; that restricts the mayhem and chaos from being unleashed, bounded by legislation.

I suppose it would be. We would do thinks as mindless beings, going about our daily routines because "we have to" and "we are told to do so". We do not question, but we trust in the system which governs our lives. (Why does this sound like I'm advocating totalitarianism ala V for Vendetta?) We lose our choice and free will, to relieve ourselves of the strain of thinking and perceiving. Is that an exchange that is worth it?

I don't know. Really. It was just a passing thought. But there are traces of the mindless drones carrying out their daily activities. As much as we like to believe that we have the power of free choice, it is actually restricted to a large extent.

Why do we go to school? Or to work? Why can't we go to School A one day and School B the next? Why must we take exams? Why do we have to do homework (or face punishment)? Why are we given parents whom we did not choose (no I am not advocating rebellion or for people to start ill-treating their parents)? All these point to the lack of choice, and the innate power of control that the system or higher beings have over our lives.

It is, scarily, quite apparent that there is little choice we possess in governing our lives. Our lifes are but pawn pieces in a game of chance played by higher beings, be it God or the system. Indeed, "ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die".