The Technocratic Fellowship

What do you call a bunch of guys in a high tech apartment with surveilance cameras around every bend? The Drawing Near Fellowship! Woot!

Love O Romantic Love

Oh how splendid and yet so terrible a love can be. It has the sweet aroma of honey that lingers within one's nose long after smelling it, and comforts like sunshine after rain (Shakespeare); but it is also like a gnawing heart worm that strangles and chokes producing constant longing for release. I am of course not referring to the eternal love of God, but to the romantic love that people have for one another, which is far from being perfect... yes I am a cynic when it comes to this. I know from the bite of unrequited affection to mild fancy, to complete domination at the hands of infatuation. No I may be no guru, nor teacher, but I can tell you I have being through the thick and thin of romance and knew of such things that can turn a man back into a boy.

Man will always be fools in love. It seems there are no remedy for this ailment that inflicts us all, impairing our speech, our hearing, our vision, our thinking; it is worst than cataphracs, does more than arthritis, and is one of the more fatal killers of youth since the dawn of time. Wretched beings that we are! But dare I say that men will never survive without love, for it binds us and pervades our thoughts. Indeed it may be an ailment, but it shall also be our greatest joy.

Something stirs in the hearts of men,
That one unmistakable thug
Who pounds upon the door
In places men knows not of
But is brought to grudging awareness
When that fellow funs amok.

He moves with the stealth of a puma,
And attacks like a fleeting cheetah.
He strikes when one is not prepared,
Leaving behind a shell-shocked stutterer.

The anarchist within men's hearts
A budding terrorist.
Yet without men are equally lost,
For a man who does not love is
No man at all.
For a man cannot walk the highest peaks of mountains
Nor feel the ecstatic rush of victory,
Without first knowing how to love,
To pine, to passion, to have infatuation,
For that taste of the exotic, that touch of otherness,
To be consumed and lost in something greater
Better than himself.

Sunnies and Bright Yellow

hey, he-ey, something's different in my world today

they changed my traffic sign to a brighter yellow...

Just think what a wonderful world that would be...
A different world from a different perspective.
Or it could just be my sunglasses...

Veni, vidi...

I came, I saw, I typed, now my fingers sore. Data Entry completed...
Now for boring old sit-and-stare-at-computer-screen-while-waiting-for-next-phonecall routine again. Man, I LOVE this job...

Oops here goes the phone!

Data Entry Again...

Entering data comes with both its sublime joys and its absolute boredom. It gives joy because it means I actually have something to do for the whole day. It is a bore because it's just so monotonous and dry that it borders on driving me insane. Well, just glad to be of help I suppose to these wonderful social work people who are already worked to maximum capacity already, providing counselling, translation services, liasing with medical professionals and government organisations on behalf of clients who otherwise have no one else to turn to for help.

Yes, I am just another cog in this wonderful organisation that is seriously a God-send. Brilliant.

Prayer works

Prayer works, for if its not prayer and God's good graces I would not have seen so many wonderful things in such a short amount of time!

My beloved mother mum is probably one of the most courageous and wonderful woman who have occupied a very BIG slot in my to-pray-for list for a very long time. This morn' was a realisation, and a very big PROOF that prayer works... for my dear ole' mum came a-walking while I was trying to play "I'm Yours" on guitar before I head off to church (yeah there is some sort of connection between the two, eh, trust me...), and she had a sort of dazed, I-just-woke-up look, but also one that shone with a certain amount of contentment that I had not seen in a while.

Translated into English
"Wei, playing guitar again?" (a good morning greeting in my house)
"Yes, before I head off to church... just a few bars" (believe me, there IS a connection)
"Ah-ha, guess what happened?"
"What?"
"I made a public acceptance." (direct translation)
"Huh? Whats a public acceptance?"
"You know, eh...."
"OH~! A public ACCEPTANCE! You mean you Accepted Christ?"
"Yeah, last night at the group."
"And you prayed the prayer?" (mouth agape already)
"Yes, you mean was it the same with you?"
"Oh yes, so let me tell you about what happened with me..."

Praise God, for He is Good!

Sometimes, its the simple things that matters most...

No matter where I go, no matter what I encounter, the trials and tribulations, the heights of jubilation, one thing is for certain: that Love is forever and ever the same as always. Unchanging, undying...

Was reminded today where that love was expressed in its most violent, yet most awe-inspiring and yet at the same time beautiful moment known to many as Calvary. Sometimes, its really the simple things that holds the most value and meaning. Christ died, Christ has risen... We are saved, praise the Lord! With His blood He wiped clean all records of my sin, except that which exist in the Lucifer and in my own head. Sounds simple enough. Its good enough for God apparently, as He now has forgiven even me of all that I have done, as well as all that I will do in the future. But yet I still cannot get my head around it... still the same old me wallowing in the mudpit of sin of my own making, and blaming and cursing, and yelling and hitting myself, as if that might appease Him who has already been appeased. I hide from Him like a wanted fugitive, when all He wanted was to hug me and bring me out of that dark hole I dug for myself. Silly.

Get over yourself, I keep telling myself... Get over what you have done, I pleaded, to no avail, as I plunge head-long back into the mud from whence I had been lifted. Such sad self-infliction, almost masochistic if not for the fact that it gives me no pleasure. I am sick of it, sick of living this way. There are times when I think maybe He has forsaken me, maybe He grew sick of me wanting to go back to that pit of self-blame and self-denouncement... maybe He is sick of having to reach into that mud time and time again just to lift me back up.

But thank the Lord that He has come once again this morn'. Thank the Lord that He has not forsaken me. Thank the Lord that He will continue to do it again and again until the day when I can finally stand up and say "this mudpit is not for me, I have better things to do than to wallow about like a boar. Its BORING..."

Thank You for the Cross......

Please Give Me a Financial Brain

Tax returns sucks.... I spent a total of four hours staring at the form and the relevant information provided.... all for only a dozen or so boxes filled with numbers! Ahhhhghhhh~~~~!!!!!

If there was something that God withheld from me, it would have to be a brain that comprehends money!

Reclusive Hermitage Called Home

Songs in minor
Flowed out from the lyre,
Crash of cymbals
Seething outside through the rain.
This here a refuge for
Neither sorrow nor joy,
Just rumination
And contemplation
Of this here moment in time.

I have a time
Once before the dead of the night,
When the world stood silent
Before majestic stars,
When I felt utter isolation,
Estranged from the woes,
Exiled from the thrill
Of life in this world.
'Tis like a thief in the night
Come hither to what's mine,
Only to rob me of its company,
Denying it from me.

I look out of that window
To see the shroud of grey
Hanging thickly by the brushes
Even during the brightness of day.
I know it's there for a reason,
I know it's there in my mind,
Juddering constantly in my vision
Reminding me of my crime.

Of foods of dubious origin and times of uplifting humour

What a strange title?! And how fitting it was for such a strange day! Yesterday was perhaps one of the most "not my day" type of days I've had in a long while, yet at the same time not a bad day!

Beginning in church where I was at the crux of horrible feedback and terrible team management, where for some weird reason neither the band nor the sound team (i.e. my team) seems to know what they are doing, it was truly God's grace that everything did not come to a crashing halt. By some freak occurence the church had only one workable speaker for about one and a half hours, and in the end was only because by some freak occurence that it was actually just electronically compressed (in other words switched off for those who don't know technical speech).

Sound problems not withstanding, immediately after the feedback fiasco came the 'left-alicya-behind' incident. Yes, I left one of my passengers behind after church to my own utter surprise and embarassment. Oh she was gracious about it, but I can't help but dread what she was really thinking... That was quite dumb.

Just to add insult to injury, SS and I was almost late for J's surprise. Funny that on this particular day there was not a single parking spot to be had in and around Carlton Gardens. Of course, we were ALMOST late, so at least it wasn't as bad as it could have been...

By evening, things were looking slightly more better, though the lack of sleep from the night before was now taking its toll. Drowsiness, coupled with the events of the day, made for a really anti-social recluse who only wanted to play Winning Eleven. That was indeed what I ended up doing, and was late for J's dinner.

There was a somewhat dubious event that sort of sugar-coated an amusingly weird day. The Fall that Almost Fallen on me. I shall say no more lest I harm some poor person's dignity and honour, but let's just say I 'handled' the situation as well as I could have....

*chuckle chuckle

Of nothing in particular

With nothing in mind, and even less preparation on hand I set out to begin to write, just because I felt an overriding need to write something, anything. So here goes the mindless ramblings of a citizen of Earth, going about the business of fools, counting on that immeasurable storehouse of grace found in Heaven to raise me above scheming obstacles scattered about before me. How wonderful that there is this thing in which I can be assured, that my foolishness does not rule over me but that by the Holy Spirit I may be deemed wise above the foolish ways of this world.

Why my thoughts turn to wisdom is beyond me; perhaps it is a sub-conscious desire, or what people professing to be experts refer to as my ideal model self, is. I can surely tell you that to be wise in the ways of the Lord is my fundamental desire, the butt of many of my prayers, a goal that I strive to achieve by the grace of God. Wisdom, as they say, is more prized than diamonds, more stable in value than gold.

Just as Solomon had asked for wisdom, and had said that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, so too do I ask, and fear, the God of Abraham, and of Israel, and all the Prophets. I fear the creator God, the one who formed me in my mother's womb, fashioned me with one over-riding purpose; that is to worship and serve Him. Oh how happy is the hammer that gets used to its full potential and purpose! I shall rejoice in my serving, and rejoice in my worship of the one true God, simply because that is what I was meant to do! And in so doing, fearing God in obedience, attain that which all people should get; Wisdom, which is the Principle thing. In the words of Solomon to his son: Get Wisdom! Get Understanding! And yes, indeed I will!

Looking back, this writer finds himself utterly baffled, and equally
amazed; from a long line of words that meant nothing came srpinging forth
paragraphs about wisdom! The writer sighs a sigh of bewilderment, or perhaps
relief he does not know which. He scratches his head and notice the big orange
button labelled "Publish". The writer felt that maybe he should...

Dream-walker

I dreamt last night of an autumn breeze like a cool, silk-like veil brushing lightly against my face. I took in the scene, finding serenity in the unnatural quietness of an otherwise bustling alleyway where countless cafes and bistros open out onto the footpath. People sat about at various tables, though I could only make out blurry outlines and not faces. I saw nothing of the tall shadowy buildings that flanked both sides, almost threatening to cave in, casting shadows that seems enshroud the goings-on on the alleyway, if not for the small lamps upon each table and within the cafes themselves.

I don't remember walking, but was slowly drawn into the scene, as if floating, towards the warm, gently inviting orange light that seems to beckon bypassers to tarry awhile in its warm glow. As I enter the alleyway, feeling the embrace of the shrouding shade and the glowing lamplights engulf me, I found myself focusing on one particular person on one particular table. She alone was not blurred, and I could make out the face as clear as day despite the shade and the soft lights.

Soon I was before her, as if I'd sat down on her table, though I never felt my legs bend, nor saw any chairs. Such was the incomplete yet vivid picture that dreams usually present; though slightly surreal what with the floating movement and blurry faces. What wasn't incomplete was her face, and the words. I remember 'sitting' down. She had been staring into what I saw as empty space, completely engrossed in her own world. Perhaps she was in a dream of her own, a dreamer within a dream of another. My proximity did not appear to faze her; she continued to dream as it were. She had a wistful face, set with a certain heaviness like there had been a thousand worries in her life, yet her eyes danced like the moonlight upon the sea, as unfazed by those same worries as she was right then of me. Her modest hair was as dark as the shadows in that place, reaching down to her shoulders.

I said a word, probably a greeting, and I saw her eyes reluctantly peel away from whatever dreamscape they must have been focusing on and return to this world, my dream-world. For a moment I saw disorientation, but she quickly composed herself, adjusting to the surroundings as if she had just arrived. She too uttered a greeting, the breeze rustling her hair.

" I think I have seen you before in another dream." she said.
" Like in your own, or mine?" I replied. It seemed true though, for even as we conversed it seems as if we have known each other for years. We launched into a discussion about dreams, and the nature of dreams; how dreams might be a bridge between minds, a gateway to finding unity and oneness with others. I had once heard of a theory about individual minds being like islands; that on the surface we are all separated from each other by boundless seas, but beneath, in the subconscious where dreams lie we are as connected as the islands are by the sea bed. Perhaps both of us had somehow stumbled upon each other in this great expanse of open sea floor that connnects every person within our minds? The thought boggles me, and I found myself feeling like a hopeless romantic.

As our discussion continued, I felt the world lose focus, until the alleyway along with its moody lamplights and broody shadow faded away, replaced by a tent by the seaside as we 'sat' by a dying campfire. It is morning and gulls filled the air above the beach, which stretched as far as my dream-eye can see. At this point both of us suddenly felt that the time has come for farewells; the morning beckons. I feel myself being pulled away, even as I wanted to stay, desiring to just stay by that tent and talk about dreams and nothings with a fellow dream-traveller. In a faraway place, a consistent ringing could be heard as I was drawn away. I glimpsed one last time at the girl whom I had shared this time with; her eyes also losing the liveliness that it had before, as if she too felt the call of morning in whatever part of the world she is in. The dream-scape loses focus, and the stark reality of morning in the real world slams hard upon my chest. The alarm is piercing to my ears, the cold of the morning air assaults my face and limbs, and threatens to invade into that warm space between the sheets.

There are times when I feel the real world is fake and that the dream world is where we really belong. Perhaps there is an ounce of truth insofar that this world is merely a stepping stone to the next. May heaven is a bit like our dreams? Maybe...

Phew.... another interview down the belt

I tell you, it just doesn't get any easier. But thank God its over. Hopefully I got it... there has being a lot of other applications though.... such a popular research assistant position.

We shall see in the next seven days.

Adult Contemporary: How very post-modernistic

A thought came to my head even as I watched mesmerized by the brilliant arrangement of each song that came belting into my ear, yet at the same time seeming to softly creep up and graced me with its hallowing melodic cry. All at the same time, the audience's diverging worlds converged on one point, even while they stood together, though yet not quite with each other, listening in admiration of three men who played music on the corner stage in a flurry of colours lighting up the shrouding darkness. For each person in the room lived their own lives, claimed their own small victories and walked through their own little struggles. And though we may all be sharing the same space, no one shared the same world, because all had no eyes or ears for their fellows next to them, save maybe their own friends who are present; all were directed to the trio. Within that small space of two hours every one of those worlds were connected, and for a time at least, we can all say that we were of one mind. In the dim stage light of blue, green, red and yellow, with each song sung, each chord rang out, each pop of the pongo, each crash of the splash, and each stab of bass, our worlds were welded together, and felt like it could have lasted forever. We were all in one place, a fantastical place, where there exist songs that unite worlds, and create one that is greater and better than our own, and that's all that mattered. At the climax, all shared in the excitement, and we felt like we had being proposed to in that heart-melting moment; a proposal made in the bliss of collective hype and romance. Perhaps this was what the apex of romantic love should be like...

When the music stopped playing the sense of oneness prevailed for a moment, as the cheers and hoots filled the confined space of the room. When the lights returned however, it was as if awakening from a dream. Did it all really happen? Was the gig really that good? I liked the singing but it was just very good only, right? People broke up back into their own groups, and disintegrated back into their own separate little worlds. The moment had come and gone, and we had lost it like one loses a coat on the subway; we will probably never get it back. We may never have the exact same moment for the rest of our lives. But perhaps, if we are lucky, or very blessed, we may find it again...

Thank you JMraz and Co for a great Monday night...

Being receptionist is quite a cool thang!

Super... here i sit upon my nice swivel chair. MSNing, faxing, photocopying, answering, transferring, and BLOGGING.

Nice job by any description. If only it was PAID. Haha, but that's the meaning of volunteering.

Thank you God for such a nice Monday vocation.

Give a little bit

So give a little bit,
Give a little bit of my life to you.
So give a little bit,
Give a little bit of your time to me.

Now's the time when we need to share
So send a smile, we're on our way back home.

Cutesy song for the glum hearted. GooGooDolls remix of Supertramps 'Give a Little Bit'.
To the one who holds a bit of my heart...

Something about Priorities

Kassandra: Walking out on him was the wisest thing I have done in my life! I couldn't stand it anymore... the constant bickering, the wise-crack jokes, the sarcasm, the FAKE concern... I've....I have had enough. He wasn't the right guy for me anyways. It was time to turn my back and take my leave. I am not gonna just stay there and TAKE it, trying to make something that won't work anyway to work out; I haven't got so much TIME... He is not worth it. *grunts* Another two years of my life WASTED! I could have been doing so much more, I could have taken that ski trip in New Zealand with Mary and the others that we were always dreaming about... or spent more time at the office: maybe then I would have gotten a raise by now... *takes in deep breath* It doesn't matter now; its over. I am a new person; I WILL be a new person. Yes. I am gonna... no I have forgotten about him already, he is history...HISTORY.

White out
Enter Mark

Mark: (In a slow drawl) Lining up at the social service clinic again. Stinks here. Must be the carpet; probably haven't been cleaned in years. I could do it for them. Worked cleaning before, wasn't that hard. *pause* Beats toughing it out on the dole all the time. *pause* Kristal needs to eat, even if I don't. Wish it wasn't so hard on her. That girl... only 6, she is just so sweet. *pause* Wish I could do more for her... now that her mother's gone AWOL she's only got me. Heh, lot of good that did her... We live in an abandoned apartment, in some abandoned part of town; you wouldn't know the place even if I told'cha. Its about as far apart from the world as you can get even in this crowded city. Beats living on the streets, I s'pose. We haven't been there long; a month? *pause* *looks impatiently at the front of queue* Why is it taking so long? Damn it, they just don't care don't they? Gotta be outta 'ere in 10 minutes. Or I might lose this pack mule job I being going to for the past few weeks. Pay's like dirt but its better than the crap they give me 'ere. But still gotta get it coz I've got nothing else. Come on, come on, if I don't show in 10 they gonna want someone else for today. That means no food today. Poor Kristal. Damn it, damn it all...

White out

Finding Justin

Ah the hum-drum of daily life. The hustle and bustle of modernity. The lion dance of contemporary society.

How empty. How draining. How pointless.

So glad you found me when you did...

John 16:33

'These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.'

Living the Christian walk is not a bed of roses. Things will go wrong in the world, and Jesus told us that during His ministry time on earth. His was the Original Murphy's Law, Amen. But that isn't all folks and all is not lost; because Jesus Christ has given us the power to be victorious and joyous in the midst of tribulation. This is not just a cool one-liner that Christians will pull out of their bag of verses in times of trouble; it is the very foundational truth that we all know and cling to. If Christ did not overcome the world, then all our praises and worship is for nought: Paul told the Corinthians this very thing: "And if Christ is not risen, your faith is futile" (1Cor15:17). If Christ did not overcome the world, then also nothing has changed, and our faith would indeed be futile; but the truth is that He did overcome, as my life and many others also testify. Why think that He might have when He has already done so before my very eyes?

Praise Be to the Lord Almighty! He is El Shaddai indeed!!!