What I'd thought it won't be...

Most times people go through life thinking they've got it mapped out.

Yes, people structure life into segments. Of sweet sweet childhood, of teenage angsty years, of the turbulent young adult phase, of moving into working adult, middle age with all its assorted crisises, retirement. Then of course there is the all-out end of death, which we all so very much try to be prepared and planned for.

I mean, don't you? 'This is the time for getting a degree'. 'This is the time for finding a job and getting a salary'. blah blah blah. 'By the time I am 25 I must be married'. blah blah blah. The list goes on. And all the while we have this mental image of who we will be in 1, 2, 5, 10, 20 years time. As if we'd know for sure. As if that's how things should really be.

I've got a dream once. I dreamt that I would be an artist. I dreamt I would fill galleries of my charcoal paintings and sell them off one by one and make a living in some penthouse/studio like Issac Mendez. That was when I was 15. I did a most marvelous thing that year, and that is I was one of the few brilliant artists in my school who did a thing most charitable to an elderly home by putting up wall paintings and murals so that the folks living there won't just have drab walls to look at in their spare time (and believe me they had alot of spare time, much to their own surprise). I got that to point to when people say that I wouldn't make it as an artist. Added to that is the fact that I am the highest scoreholder in my class in Studio Art class. All the Art teachers know me, some of whom I was on first name basis with.

I thought that by the time I was 22 and out of uni after doing a wonderful Art course that I would come out ready to charge straight into a studio and churn out masterpieces. I thought that by the time I was 30 I'd own my own gallery. By the time I was 40 I'd get married and go on extended honeymoons. That by the time I was 50 I'd try my hand at controlling my own death and the way I'd go out by committing suicide or something in some suitably grand style for such a grand life.

What I'd thought it would be.

Truth is I'd never got into Art school. My folio wasn't enough by the time I was 17. My parents made me concentrate on the Math and the English. Art went out the window. I graduated with a high score but no dreams. I faced mountains (for a 17 year old) of decision-making the likes of which I wasn't really prepared for. What will I do now? And in all that confusion I just merely looked at what's available and chose Psychology coz it 'sounded suitably interesting' compared to say Commerce, and I didn't really know what Anthropology and Media studies and Creative Writing was all about.

And so I entered uni as a 1st year Psych student. I started dreaming that I would be a forensic psych one day, or some clinical neuropsych after getting a high score for that component in 1st year. I started to, as I did 2 years before, make plans. I would be in Honours by 21, finish Masters by 23, practice at a hospital for 5 or 6 building client base and move on to private practive by the time I was 30. I would marry someone somewhere along the line and life would be good. I'd own my own M5 and go for drives in the city. My family would retire in Queensland and I'd visit them every now and then. I would go overseas and work, maybe back to Hong Kong, or Singapore. Or maybe even the US.

Plans. How futile.

at 21 I was doing work in a warehouse, having missed the mark into Honours. Don't rightly know why. Someone else had similar scores than I yet I missed out. Life happens I suppose. Never worry as I can just adjust my plans one year back. Nothing to worry about. and indeed I got in the year after, having done nothing academic for one whole year I found myself accepted again. My career is not over. Not yet. See? All the planning came to fruition. I got up and went in early for everything; I met up with my supervisor earlier than others, I went to seminars and got to know a couple of people as contacts, I went away and did my readings. I was eager to start. I was eager to show all of them who I am.

What I'd thought it won't be.

Who's to blame for the timetabling error that set me back three weeks of useful work? I missed the first three weeks of lectures. Who's to blame for the ridiculous amount of time spent behind the wheel travelling from one campus to another, and then to home? Who's to blame for my misunderstanding my supervisor and reading up too broadly for two weeks and having that work turn up useless? Who's to blame for my own family life, where suddenly I am the man of the house and I got this whole list of other priorities on my mind? Who's to blame that I was born incapable of multi-tasking and having a pre-disposition for ill organisation of time and tasks?

And now I stand at the threshold of yet another failure of my plans. I stand at the threshold of seeing life as I'd thought it won't be. Who's to know, right? Hah.

Don't take pity on me. There is nothing to be pitiful about. Life just happens. And there is nothing we mere mortals can do about it. What's new under the sun? History Boys had a brilliant quote for this: "Told'ya, history is just one bloody thing after another.".

Cougher

A wracking cough threatens to take away a good night sleep, and possibly my voice (for the second time in a month). I have being sick, physically, but I suspect, also sick in other ways...

1.52am. Man. And to think I have a long day ahead of me...

For......

Wasn't this just like last time,
When I'd felt like the bell and chime,
Rocking about to the beat of
Another's emo mind.

I don't want to feel
I don't want to hurt
I don't want no tears
To fall upon the dirt.

Take this cup away from me,
O so sweet though it may be.
Sometimes things in life
Are better left to be.

Yet I just can't live without
This miry drink of doubt,
I keep seeing things not there
Perhaps its just thin air.

Unto Hope I will cling
Should just sit and wait awhile.
Time may come when all things sing
Of the beauty yet to come.

***

A little poem to an unaware special little someone.

Untitled

Long have I looked upon those barren shores
To search for a glimmer of hope restored.
I tarry upon eaves of billowing sand
Trodding a path through this abomi'ble land.
I sense a warmth burning deep within
It carries me onwards, a promise therein.
May God plot a course that I may run
To find that lost treasure I would have won.

Here by the seashore in all its rocky darkness
A feeling of rage just freshly departed.
I ponder the wrongs that I may have done
And offer up repentance for that which I've done.
Maybe if I were to show more humility
I might see a way out of this calamity.
How I long for that rest of peace
To drive away this sickness, and leave me be.

Firm Foundations and the other stuff on top

Just when things look up, things goes down again. That's how it is when things get shaken, yes? I have being on a roller-coaster since the beginning of this year, and frankly, I am getting tired of the same old loops and bumps and freefallings that comes along the way.

No more, please. What can be shaken off should be off by now, right? And whatever that is left over... I don't really know if its good or not anymore.

God burns away the outer layers and reveals to me what I truly am within. And the revelation scares me.

Transformation comes from conviction. Conviction is from the inside out. I don't want to be a surface-changer anymore. I want hard substantial change. I want my life to be upside down, and for me to have a transformation from conviction. That is the true meaning of Romans 12. I guess once again I learnt it the hard way. Typical.

I hope one day I can say for sure, knowing that it is truly in my heart, that I love God, love family, love friends, love enemies, love ministry. I pray that this day will not be far away.

Backbone

Have I changed?
Is the Cross really as powerful as people make it out to be?
Who was I before I came to the Cross?
Who am I now?

All I can say is that maybe the Cross have given me a backbone.

But I still make for a lousy witness. If so, I may as well be back on that broad highway.

Hosanna

Today I realised something.

Within all is three things forever dwelling.
A desire to lead a meaningful life.
A wish to be surrounded by those we love.
A hope that one will not end up losing what we have.

Some would see old age as the anti-thesis to all of the above.
In fact, why else do we fawn so when it comes to aging?
We see age as the gradual painless (for the most part) poison that slowly robs us of these three things.
Our life becomes meaningless.
Those we love either die, or move away.
We lose the things that mean so much because we no longer are able to keep them.

I see this every week. I see these souls dwelling in the awkward 8' by 8' hospital beds, staring into space with not a thought in their minds, their hearts numb from the isolation, their bodies slowly passing away. I see hopelessness in their eyes. I hear voices breaking as if they haven't being used in years. I feel their passing of days, weeks, months without reprieve, until those figures no longer mean anything anymore. Their worlds slowly falling apart, bit by bit, right below their frail feet.

Then One amongst many stood tall. She was a little old lady of a rather bouncy sort. There is nothing in the world that can distinguish her from the rest. She too had ailments. She too has being slowly losing her world. But she worn a radiance upon her face that shone as clear as noonday, even when she battled with a chronic pain in her leg. She alone amongst many had a smile that still melts men's hearts. And upon her breast she worn the Cross.

What can I say?

Praise God.

Hosanna

Three Paragraphs Starting With S

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. Well, maybe no one is reading anymore, so I am merely saying this to myself. I don't know. Its being quite a confusing ride over the course of the last couple of months. I once remarked to a group of people that it was akin to a ride through a rollercoaster complete with all its miraculous ups and demoralising downs. Left me with a profound sense of misguidedness. I don't really know what to think anymore.

Sucks when all the world seems to be steaming through and my own ship just lost its main mast with the impending storm coming. What seems to make matters worse is that the mast has being down for a long time and I just never bothered to repair it. C hit the nail right on the head when he wrote about being ready and preparing for the storm. I simply didn't. Another lesson learnt the hard way I suppose. A certain someone by the name of 'I' had me down on the spot: she described me as a person who only learns from mistakes. Harsh. Truth.

So what new heights of insights did I gleam from this three paragraphs of self-pity and self-criticism? Possible nothing of substance. Sometimes I ask myself am I depressed, and all I can think of is maybe. Why though? Why would I be depressed? I thought my troubles started with lack of God. But now I am not so sure. Maybe its more like I lack the faith the believe in Him fully. Believe that my future lies in His capable hands. Yes, maybe that's it. That's exactly what I said three weeks ago with the lack of God thing. But Yes, I think I hit it right this time.

Faith is like seeing

They say that i can move the mountains
and send them falling to the sea
they say that i can walk on water
if i would follow and believe
with Faith Like a Child

***

Since mine eyes have looked on Jesus,
I’ve lost sight of all beside,
So enchained my spirit’s vision,
Gazing on the Crucified.

not happy jus

This is bad...i got a ticket to mental limbo where all one can see when they look out the windows of the train carriage are Sigma symbols, scatterplots, regression lines, and bouncing chi-square tables! Not to mention that one will only enter the endless matrix of factor analysis that is so lovingly known as FA. They have robbed me of my football and replaced it with a bleeding MANOVA!!! Man over board; I wanna jump train.

Well, I guess since I am already half way through, may as well go through with it I suppose...

Take care all you lovelies. I may not be coming back. Not this person anyways.

wow thats it??

after an absence of countless weeks this is all i could come up with?! a bleeding emo scale?!?!?!

my goodness statistics is bad for mental and creative health.

die statistics!

Emo scale

[ ] i like skinny jeans
[x] music is my life.
[x] i write poetry/song lyrics
[x] my hair covers part of my face. (or i wish)
[ ] i wear band shirts.
[ ] i know who Jeffree Star is.
[x] i wear/wore Converse.
[ ] i wear/wore vans
[ ] i wear/have worn eyeliner.
[ ] I listen to Saves The Day, Chiodos, Thursday and/or Gym Class Heroes.

Total: 4

[x] I'm/was in a band.
[ ] my Multiply screen name has an x in it
[x] I understand that My Chemical Romance is not emo
[x] I also understand that Green Day is not emo
[x] I know what mosh means.
[ ] I sit in corners often
[ ] I dislike MTV
[x] I take pictures of myself a lot
[ ] Especially ones when you can't see my whole face

Total: 5

[x] I'm lost without a CD player/MP3 player/ IPod
[x] I know that emo is not just a stereotype
[ ] I have/had thick rimmed glasses
[ ] I have/had issues with bi/gay people
[ ] I hate the president
[ ] I have/had a mohawk
[ ] I wear/have worn black nail polish
[ ] I hate my mom
[ ] I hate my dad
[ ] I hate where i live
[x] Black is a great color
[ ] I do/have cut myself

Total: 3

[x] Right now, I am listening to music
[ ] I know what hxc and sxe mean
[ ] Multiply=love
[ ] Hot Topic doesn't scare me
[ ] I wear/have worn studded belts
[ ] I have/had a body part signed by a band
[ ] I've cried while listening to Dashboard Confessional
[ ] For Guys: I have kissed another guy
[ ] For girls: I have worn skinny jeans
[ ] I have/had dyed my hair black
[x] My closet is mostly filled with black or dark clothes
[ ] I cry a lot
[ ] I write on myself
[x] I have been called emo before
[ ] I've done drugs before
[ ] I listen to undiscovered bands

Total: 3

Total the totals
Times your overall by 3 and that is how emo you are
Post this as: I am___ % emo

I am 45% emo

Does not smell like emo spirit... for once!

Hmm I realised that recently I have being excessively emo. Looking back over the past few posts, I saw quite a number of "smells like emo spirit". I like that tagline. Its like Nirvana all over again, only this time in the emo era; a bit of Carrabba mixed in with Cobain. For the uninitiated, that's the lead singer in Dashboard and Nirvana respectively. Alright, enough music nerdiness.

There was a time when I thought I would use this blog to post some nice pretty pictures of stars and galaxies. Or space objects in our own solar system: kinda like this one. The thing I love about this asteroid, which is essentially a lump of supersize rock floating around in space, is the crater marks all over it. Imagine this giant rock, its face searing wherever the sunlight touches like a clothes iron held too long on a shirt, and the extreme cold of the shadow gripping upon its dark side, hails of tiny metals crashing upon its once smooth bore surface as it moves through a belt of asteroids.

I love it because it speaks so much about our own lifes. I love it because it mirrors us going through our own little trials, our moments of extremes in both passion and ignorance, our failures, our scars, our endless wandering in search of meaning. It presents a show of strength in its sheer size as a facade, but is vulnerable as the craters testify. Sometimes, that is what we do as well. We walk around with a mask on our faces, our demenour veiled, our tongues censored. We walk as if we were in someone else's shoes, someone we want to be, someone we feel we ought to be. And sometimes, we even kid ourselves and believe it to be true. Is that why we have problems? Would we not have problems if we just live and not lie to ourselves? Would it all be well if we just believe that we are valued just the way we are, and we are not forgotten and insignificant in a world of so many people?

The asteroid continues its journey.

Thick

The air was thick with fog this day; it was thick with heaviness as well, feeling tired and dreary.

***

Dunno really what to write.... just feel like blabbing a while because I can't think of anything to say in my review. What's with this year? It feels like I have made a big wrong/erroneous decision, one after the other.

Nevermind. The rhythm of the world beats on. A monotonous, single syllabic chord.

Error: no title.

Something prompts me to write again. Yes I should sleep. But I just want to write sometimes. Sleep makes me a writer. Thank God I didn't become a writer by profession!

The western night sky never looked more solemn. The night lights burn, lined up row by row along the ground all the way to the horizon, sending shafts of yellow and red reaching up into the dark heavens. They quickly disappear into that blackness, lost in the vast, moonless sky.

I sit with a million and one thoughts in my head; the events of the past three days made certain of that. None that are coherent. Maybe I will just sit and wait. And continue to type rubbish until it comes.

Maybe I will sleep on it. Will ideas hatch like a chicken from an egg when sat on by the hen?

Diana Krall at the End of the Rollercoaster

Diana Krall music somehow seems to sooth the soul for an emo day. As M so brilliantly summed up this day, it has being one big roller coaster ride. Now strapped to my seat at the end of the ride still savouring every turn, bump, drop and climb, figuring out which parts was the most spectacular in order to document and store away deep within the recesses of my mind, I find myself lost in the melodic swirl of her songs. Her voice seems to echo about as it enters my ears, and reverberates through my whole being; every heartbeat in time with the kick and the snare.

There is nothing less ordinary about humble beginnings. Though one would come in to a rollercoaster ride with full expectations of leaving feeling queasy or excited, this day was totally unexpected. Its like being asleep and suddenly waking up to the feeling of being pulled along in a carriage up the steep rails to the top. I woke up feeling like any other morning, tired, full of resentment of having to wake up early despite lack of sleep. I stumbled out of the house with an apple in hand, car keys in the other, and an hour and half of travel to campus ahead.

A lazy seminar later and I was in Seasons sleeping away the ache in my head, my car audio seeming like a lullaby. I woke up to a message from T, and soon was receiving messages from different people as well. A chance meeting with T, a driving lesson or so with M, a movie worth of funny romance stories later and soon the day was half spent, and it had being dreary and slack. The climb to the top has finally being done; now the descent begins.

First was S. S seemed distant and unusually tame, before a torrent of emotion broke out, catching both M and I totally off-guard. I stood transfixed, holding a bottle of coke, jam and nutella in a plastic bag, waiting by the side in the shadows as the two held on to each other. I could hardly fix a thought; all I could do was stand and look away respectfully.

Second was the drive to dinner. The circumstances of S brought to mind my own little three day old circumstance. It brought to mind the end of a dream, a selfish dream. My world came to a halt; deadlines and traffic lights seems to fade away leaving behind only the imagined husk of what I thought would have being. The feeling is emptiness.

Third was a most unexpected sort of call. Y is in hospital, and now surgery is in the works. It might not be serious, but neither is it trivial.

Fourth was another unexpected call, though not for me. It rocked the world for my host, and immediately brought things back to square one. Now comes the time for reminders, and some hard soul-searching.

Yes vague. But vague is good. I once heard someone said that the only reason why shower doors are blurred glass and not just solid opaque doors is because the vagueness accentuated the figure of whoever was inside... yes a little wrong, but yet it made so much sense. Indeed, vagueness is good because it does not block knowledge and recognition of whatever is there, but at the same time provides discrete and interesting disclosure to others who are willing to look. It makes for better storytelling than just total disclosure anyways. As Capote said once: women looked so much better with clothes on.

Okay, enough with the crazy latenight innuendo. I think it prudent for me to go sleep. Tomorrow is another day.

When Reality Hits

If only you could lift me upon eagle's wings...

The murmur of passing momentaries
Fills the echoing chambers of my audioscape.
I could, just might, grasping, able to make out words,
But in the end I just tune right out.
It is not real, but yet it is.
It is as real as the fingers on my hand.
But what cannot be seen seems more real.
Whispers of unreality, thin willowing veils,
Wraps willfully around me.
Is anything real anymore?
What is it that I see? I see
A blank wall with no beginning
Sheer white nothingness
Stands, obstructing, retarding.

God help me, ye breaker of strongholds.

Morning Daydreams

Sometimes, when the windows of my room becomes fogged up from the morning dew, and the water droplets, collecting weight, roll down ever so slowly, forming snaking water trails across the glass, I feel a chill run up my spine. The blur of the outside world shines through the dew, and it looks for all the world like I was awake in a dream. Is this world that I gaze at real?

Its the tiny details. Its the splash of colour on each single drop of water. Its the chill I feel emanating from the glass itself. Its the air in my room tastes a little musky from having the door closed all night. Its the sound of larks which I might have wished were nightingales.

I find myself just staring, my mind awander in the misty colours. I see myself walking through this field of blurry colours, exploring every nook and crany, finding many things, wondrous similitudes hidden beneath this fabric of seeming-reality. What else can I find?

Always, though, my morning daydream would be broken at the sound of the alarm clock, preset to screech at the appointed time. Darn.

At the Foot of the Cross

Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Come in to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the Cross...

Such beautiful lyrics. Speaks to the heart of the wonderful place known as Calvary. It is at the Cross that we are cleased and made new, but it is also from there that we enter into a whole new life.

Let's live that life to the full, with remembrance of the sacrifice our Lord has made in order to make it all possible for us in the first place, but not to dwell here any longer. God has called us to bigger and greater things than this.

Amen

A Heart of Life

I hate to see you cry

Lying there in that position

There's things you need to hear

So turn off your tears

And listen

Pain throws your heart to the ground

Love turns the whole thing around

No it won't all go the way it should

But I know the heart of life is good

You know, it's nothing new

Bad news never had good timing

But, then your circle of friends

Will defend the silver lining

Pain throws your heart to the ground

Love turns the whole thing around

No it won't all go the way it should

But I know the heart of life is good

Pain throws your heart to the ground

Love turns the whole thing around

Fear is a friend who's misunderstood

But I know the heart of life is good

I know it's good

- John Mayer, 'The Heart of Life' from 'Continuum'