Saturday, May 31, 2008
this tiny heart, all neatly wrapped up and packaged in a confused haze. those hot tears have cooled; a thin layer of frost remains. and i know you still beat in your bruised state, i felt you resonate with the sunset. i know that given half the chance, you would burst right through me, your rays stretching to the horizons, even if just for a second. speak to me, oh my heart. what is god whispering to you in the stillness? what am i hearing but not listening to? what am i looking at but not seeing?
Thursday, May 08, 2008
the perfect remedy
as cheryl (probably heaven's salesgirl of the year) shared about how she shared her secret remedy to a woman whose husband was was in the pits of depression, going from doctor to doctor, trying to find something that would remove that heavy piece of stone from his heart, i couldn't help but feel inspired to try that remedy myself. it was a remedy i had once faithfully gone back to over and over again before disillusionment and cynicism drove me to dump it aside together with my bible for later use and occasional tuesday nights.
it's probably no longer a secret that i've been depressed for the longest time. where i once used to carry this heavy sadness in my heart, i now even wear it. it's not hard to tell really. the lack of energy and drive to do things, the tired eyes and old demeanor even though i've only just turned 23, the anti-social behavior, the short temper and excess of emotions, the resistance to forgive and let go, to hold on to every single grievance caused to me and remember it for dear life...what a load to carry around, no wonder this heart is so tired, no wonder death sometimes seems like such a welcome respite.
tonight was no different from the past few nights for the past few weeks. the usual upsets, the usual loneliness, the usual desire to want to curl up on my bed and cry to nobody. but then i thought about cheryl and how in the deepest darkest crevices of loneliness and pain she can find the grace to pray and pray and pray, how she can find it in her to love me and all the people around her, not just friends or family but complete strangers. and i felt inspired to pick up that remedy from that dusty shelf once more.
i can't begin to describe how beautiful it was. as i sat there and quietened myself, being mindful that i was tuning myself into god's frequency, i started to feel calmer and allowed myself to be vulnerable to god. even now as i close my eyes from time to time to recall that experience, a wave of calm washes over me. it makes me feel thankful for my humanity and the experience and purification of faith and love through it. the encountering of jesus through the depths of my human pain and the amazing love that greets me and transforms me.
at that point, i was struggling with anxiety and unforgiveness, my body felt bruised and battered because i was just so tired and anxious and sad. i now know that being old is not having lived a certain number of years or walking slower than before. being old is really being weighed down with disillusionment, unforgiveness, cynicism and sloth, to name a few. i picked up henri nouwen's "inner voice of love" which cheryl gave to me and read a chapter which spoke about the two selves, the one you left behind because you were fearful and the one you became to appear formidable and how while you long for your old, intimate self, you push it away just so you'd survive. but you were only surviving without living. that's really how i feel these days. from wanting to be "jesus" to everyone, i got tired of being trampled on and took on the opposite form, shooting my mouth as soon as i was hurt, harbouring unforgiveness like a sacred treasure and doing pretty much whatever the hell i wanted. i was rebelling with a vengeance. henri nouwen wasn't far off when he penned down this reflection. he noted how that little, fearful self shouldn't be forgotten and pushed away but be made to become part of us again and that if we only allow ourselves to live with it, how much we would learn, how we would find that jesus is dwelling in that weak, fearful, human self. with all these thoughts forming in my mind, i picked up my journal which i had neglected for almost a year and instead of penning things down, i started flipping through, and i was deeply awed. i had experience those same emotions, those same thoughts then, and through those writings and my little tete-a-tetes with god, i realised how much that old, fearful self had so much to teach my now "formidable" self, how you really are your closest and most intimate friend. i was tearing when i read about the sufferings of shireen then and how i wish i could have warned her, pulled her out of it but as i read on, i was more amazed by her faith, her eagerness to forgive, to obey and to love. and i was inspired once more.
prayer is a beautiful thing. through that little prayer time just now, i found myself transforming from a person of bitterness and anxiety to one of love and forgiveness. i found myself being able to separate myself from experiences and hurt and to forgive and love those who would not understand or love me the way i wanted them to. i found myself wanting to not only pray for myself but for others. each time i worried about the reactions of others at my attempts to make peace and forgive, thinking, what if they reject me or think me a fool, i was reminded that my inclination to forgive was really between me and jesus and not because of the person in question. his/her willingness to forgive would be between him/her and jesus too. so instead, i thanked jesus for the grace to forgive.
it was indeed a beautiful time of prayer as i just allowed myself to be still, to converse with god and to write as i once used to. i recalled the words of cheryl when i told her about how i marvelled that she was always praying. and she told me that she just felt that jesus had so much to tell her. and i'm smiling because i know jesus has so much to tell me too. i feel like i've found an old friend and it's great to be back again. i pray for the grace to be disciplined in sticking to this remedy. prayer really soothes the ailing heart like nothing else can. also, i actually feel my aches gone and i do feel lighter and a little stronger. i'm actually smiling! you gotta try it if you haven't!
p.s. thanks for that forgiveness "mail", papa.
as cheryl (probably heaven's salesgirl of the year) shared about how she shared her secret remedy to a woman whose husband was was in the pits of depression, going from doctor to doctor, trying to find something that would remove that heavy piece of stone from his heart, i couldn't help but feel inspired to try that remedy myself. it was a remedy i had once faithfully gone back to over and over again before disillusionment and cynicism drove me to dump it aside together with my bible for later use and occasional tuesday nights.
it's probably no longer a secret that i've been depressed for the longest time. where i once used to carry this heavy sadness in my heart, i now even wear it. it's not hard to tell really. the lack of energy and drive to do things, the tired eyes and old demeanor even though i've only just turned 23, the anti-social behavior, the short temper and excess of emotions, the resistance to forgive and let go, to hold on to every single grievance caused to me and remember it for dear life...what a load to carry around, no wonder this heart is so tired, no wonder death sometimes seems like such a welcome respite.
tonight was no different from the past few nights for the past few weeks. the usual upsets, the usual loneliness, the usual desire to want to curl up on my bed and cry to nobody. but then i thought about cheryl and how in the deepest darkest crevices of loneliness and pain she can find the grace to pray and pray and pray, how she can find it in her to love me and all the people around her, not just friends or family but complete strangers. and i felt inspired to pick up that remedy from that dusty shelf once more.
i can't begin to describe how beautiful it was. as i sat there and quietened myself, being mindful that i was tuning myself into god's frequency, i started to feel calmer and allowed myself to be vulnerable to god. even now as i close my eyes from time to time to recall that experience, a wave of calm washes over me. it makes me feel thankful for my humanity and the experience and purification of faith and love through it. the encountering of jesus through the depths of my human pain and the amazing love that greets me and transforms me.
at that point, i was struggling with anxiety and unforgiveness, my body felt bruised and battered because i was just so tired and anxious and sad. i now know that being old is not having lived a certain number of years or walking slower than before. being old is really being weighed down with disillusionment, unforgiveness, cynicism and sloth, to name a few. i picked up henri nouwen's "inner voice of love" which cheryl gave to me and read a chapter which spoke about the two selves, the one you left behind because you were fearful and the one you became to appear formidable and how while you long for your old, intimate self, you push it away just so you'd survive. but you were only surviving without living. that's really how i feel these days. from wanting to be "jesus" to everyone, i got tired of being trampled on and took on the opposite form, shooting my mouth as soon as i was hurt, harbouring unforgiveness like a sacred treasure and doing pretty much whatever the hell i wanted. i was rebelling with a vengeance. henri nouwen wasn't far off when he penned down this reflection. he noted how that little, fearful self shouldn't be forgotten and pushed away but be made to become part of us again and that if we only allow ourselves to live with it, how much we would learn, how we would find that jesus is dwelling in that weak, fearful, human self. with all these thoughts forming in my mind, i picked up my journal which i had neglected for almost a year and instead of penning things down, i started flipping through, and i was deeply awed. i had experience those same emotions, those same thoughts then, and through those writings and my little tete-a-tetes with god, i realised how much that old, fearful self had so much to teach my now "formidable" self, how you really are your closest and most intimate friend. i was tearing when i read about the sufferings of shireen then and how i wish i could have warned her, pulled her out of it but as i read on, i was more amazed by her faith, her eagerness to forgive, to obey and to love. and i was inspired once more.
prayer is a beautiful thing. through that little prayer time just now, i found myself transforming from a person of bitterness and anxiety to one of love and forgiveness. i found myself being able to separate myself from experiences and hurt and to forgive and love those who would not understand or love me the way i wanted them to. i found myself wanting to not only pray for myself but for others. each time i worried about the reactions of others at my attempts to make peace and forgive, thinking, what if they reject me or think me a fool, i was reminded that my inclination to forgive was really between me and jesus and not because of the person in question. his/her willingness to forgive would be between him/her and jesus too. so instead, i thanked jesus for the grace to forgive.
it was indeed a beautiful time of prayer as i just allowed myself to be still, to converse with god and to write as i once used to. i recalled the words of cheryl when i told her about how i marvelled that she was always praying. and she told me that she just felt that jesus had so much to tell her. and i'm smiling because i know jesus has so much to tell me too. i feel like i've found an old friend and it's great to be back again. i pray for the grace to be disciplined in sticking to this remedy. prayer really soothes the ailing heart like nothing else can. also, i actually feel my aches gone and i do feel lighter and a little stronger. i'm actually smiling! you gotta try it if you haven't!
p.s. thanks for that forgiveness "mail", papa.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
the shrinking heart
sometimes, i get this feeling that my heart used to be really big...not just big but..huge! i feel this because i sometimes feel this gaping hole where love used to reside, like i'm becoming more of a shadow and less like light. i don't think it's hindsight bias, i think i used to generally love everything and everyone. it was just easy for me to and i couldn't, wouldn't have it any other way. jesus, to me, was the coolest guy. not just a fantasy, not just a myth, not just a historical figure or a far-fetched legend. fully divine but also FULLY HUMAN, he was my role model, the coolest hippie around who didn't just sing songs about making love not war while smoking weed in a corner nor having long discussions with family and friends bitching about everyone and everything while doing nothing about it. he went out there and loved the rejected and the ostracized, the freaks and the goons, the sinners and the forgotten, consoling where consolation was needed and putting right things that were wrong. every moment was a mission to love, to give and to grow. suffering was a means for love and faith to be purified and life itself was a prayer and communion with the divine.
that was what and who i aspired to be. life was beautiful no matter what and i was always thankful for what little or alot i had. black holes would come and go but i got out pretty fast, forgave pretty quick, loved like there was no tomorrow and was driven to live every moment like it might have been my last. i carried my hopes, my dreams, my resilience where i went, staying true to them. people said i was naive and used whatever other adult-words they could find to describe the ignorance and persistence of youth but i was undaunted, steadfast and resolved to live the life i dreamed.
then, bit by bit, this big heart, this bright mind, started shrinking like a helium balloon that had flown too high and too long. i don't know how it started or why but one day, i knew these had grown awfully small when i realised that i didn't care whether i lived or died anymore, whether i hurt myself and others or not. i decided others could live the "jesus dream" because i was too weak, too broken and too unworthy to do so anymore. yes, instead of the light, i was quickly becoming the shadow, sucked into the darkness and hollowness of my own existence. could i blame anybody? it didn't matter whether i could or not, i started lashing out at the world who didn't get me, didn't allow me to breathe. i lashed out at god many times, asking him why i was still here, night after night as i lay my head on my pillow, eyes wide open in the dark, anxious about how i would ever get through another night like this. i "recommended" to god the neatest, most hassle-free ways to cease my existence in this world so that i could just disappear and be gotten over with "just as i deserved". suicide was out of the question and will NEVER be an option so you could say i was just, waiting.
i broke down many times, losing control of my emotions and impulses, easily triggered by attacks which i perceived, were to my self-worth. i felt really alone, not being understood by the people whom i really wish would understand instead of judging me so quickly. i hurt myself and others immensely. i felt i was such a "gone-case" that...so what? so what about world hunger or marginalisation or poverty? i couldn't even help myself. that's how absorbed i became, how small and shrunken this existence spiralled towards being.
what's happening? why? i can't really say. i type in past tense above but in reality, it's an ongoing battle i face. maybe i'm crazy for feeling those things, maybe i'm crazy for splashing these feelings across this page...but don't tell me i'm the only one. i know that there are many out there who have ("had" is merely an illusion) so much to give and who yearn to live and love big but now, only mourn for the death of their hearts. life for them, for us, sometimes is this big black question mark which sucks you in deeper and the more you struggle, the more you sink, like quick sand.
then there are people like lydia gouardo who are what they are and say what they say and totally blow my mind, removing the "cataracts" from my eyes and giving me a good shake-up , like being thrown into a pool of icy water first thing in the morning. my heart blooms again in these moments and becomes filled with hope and dreams once more. and the cycle repeats, wilting heart, blossoming heart, wilting heart, blossoming heart, only with greater intensity each time.
this video below speaks volumes and says very concisely and strikingly what all these paragraphs are trying to decode about the state of my heart. the important thing is, i'm still alive. and while i'm alive, i still have a shot. you do, too!
(p.s. stop the music at the right-hand side before playing the video, unless you want to create some kinda funky remix version of either song)
sometimes, i get this feeling that my heart used to be really big...not just big but..huge! i feel this because i sometimes feel this gaping hole where love used to reside, like i'm becoming more of a shadow and less like light. i don't think it's hindsight bias, i think i used to generally love everything and everyone. it was just easy for me to and i couldn't, wouldn't have it any other way. jesus, to me, was the coolest guy. not just a fantasy, not just a myth, not just a historical figure or a far-fetched legend. fully divine but also FULLY HUMAN, he was my role model, the coolest hippie around who didn't just sing songs about making love not war while smoking weed in a corner nor having long discussions with family and friends bitching about everyone and everything while doing nothing about it. he went out there and loved the rejected and the ostracized, the freaks and the goons, the sinners and the forgotten, consoling where consolation was needed and putting right things that were wrong. every moment was a mission to love, to give and to grow. suffering was a means for love and faith to be purified and life itself was a prayer and communion with the divine.
that was what and who i aspired to be. life was beautiful no matter what and i was always thankful for what little or alot i had. black holes would come and go but i got out pretty fast, forgave pretty quick, loved like there was no tomorrow and was driven to live every moment like it might have been my last. i carried my hopes, my dreams, my resilience where i went, staying true to them. people said i was naive and used whatever other adult-words they could find to describe the ignorance and persistence of youth but i was undaunted, steadfast and resolved to live the life i dreamed.
then, bit by bit, this big heart, this bright mind, started shrinking like a helium balloon that had flown too high and too long. i don't know how it started or why but one day, i knew these had grown awfully small when i realised that i didn't care whether i lived or died anymore, whether i hurt myself and others or not. i decided others could live the "jesus dream" because i was too weak, too broken and too unworthy to do so anymore. yes, instead of the light, i was quickly becoming the shadow, sucked into the darkness and hollowness of my own existence. could i blame anybody? it didn't matter whether i could or not, i started lashing out at the world who didn't get me, didn't allow me to breathe. i lashed out at god many times, asking him why i was still here, night after night as i lay my head on my pillow, eyes wide open in the dark, anxious about how i would ever get through another night like this. i "recommended" to god the neatest, most hassle-free ways to cease my existence in this world so that i could just disappear and be gotten over with "just as i deserved". suicide was out of the question and will NEVER be an option so you could say i was just, waiting.
i broke down many times, losing control of my emotions and impulses, easily triggered by attacks which i perceived, were to my self-worth. i felt really alone, not being understood by the people whom i really wish would understand instead of judging me so quickly. i hurt myself and others immensely. i felt i was such a "gone-case" that...so what? so what about world hunger or marginalisation or poverty? i couldn't even help myself. that's how absorbed i became, how small and shrunken this existence spiralled towards being.
what's happening? why? i can't really say. i type in past tense above but in reality, it's an ongoing battle i face. maybe i'm crazy for feeling those things, maybe i'm crazy for splashing these feelings across this page...but don't tell me i'm the only one. i know that there are many out there who have ("had" is merely an illusion) so much to give and who yearn to live and love big but now, only mourn for the death of their hearts. life for them, for us, sometimes is this big black question mark which sucks you in deeper and the more you struggle, the more you sink, like quick sand.
then there are people like lydia gouardo who are what they are and say what they say and totally blow my mind, removing the "cataracts" from my eyes and giving me a good shake-up , like being thrown into a pool of icy water first thing in the morning. my heart blooms again in these moments and becomes filled with hope and dreams once more. and the cycle repeats, wilting heart, blossoming heart, wilting heart, blossoming heart, only with greater intensity each time.
this video below speaks volumes and says very concisely and strikingly what all these paragraphs are trying to decode about the state of my heart. the important thing is, i'm still alive. and while i'm alive, i still have a shot. you do, too!
(p.s. stop the music at the right-hand side before playing the video, unless you want to create some kinda funky remix version of either song)
mama, harold and kumar
i swear my eyes are gonna pop out from playing this crazy "who has the biggest brain" game on facebook. i can feel it. i'm slowly turning into a zombie, with my eyes all spaced-out, staring in one direction, transfixed and relentless! so much for school being out, i'm drowing myself in math and memory tests!
watching harold and kumar with mama was so much fun! how it all started was hilarious. we were sitting side by side getting our pedicures done on thursday when i told her i was arranging with some of the msc dudes to watch harold and kumar the next day to which she replied, like a needy teenage girlfriend (yes, my mom), "i also want to watch!!!", complete with furrowed brows and pout. she had gotten the idea that it was going to be one of those chevy chase national lampoon kinda movies, don't ask me why. pravin and jeevan had come back with raving reviews about it and she decided this was a show she couldn't pass up on. now, any kid would say no to watching such shows with his or her mom, riiiiight?
wrong! before i found out (after the movie was over) that she thought it was a national lampoon knock-off, i genuinely thought that my mom was starting to become more adventurous. i mean, she seemed to be living out her second teenagehood these few days, sometimes to the point where i'd feel i was more like the mother and she, the daughter. it got me really curious as to how my mom would react to such a show and i immediately said yes! and she told me just now before leaving work, she was actually boasting to her colleagues that she was going to watch "harold and kumar!"
so we just watched the show a few hours ago and it was so incredibly fun watching with her! she was actually laughing hysterically. at some scenes though, she would go, "you mean jeevan (my youngest bro turning 18 in a few days time) watched this?? how can jeevan watch this??" of course, she came out shaking her head but i'm sure she secretly enjoyed it and i told her so.
i have more things to say. but i'm going to put it in the next post, right after this one! now!
p.s. i actually thought the "square root of three'' poem was pretty smart. i loved it! here it is! don't read on if you want to preserve the surprise factor!
i swear my eyes are gonna pop out from playing this crazy "who has the biggest brain" game on facebook. i can feel it. i'm slowly turning into a zombie, with my eyes all spaced-out, staring in one direction, transfixed and relentless! so much for school being out, i'm drowing myself in math and memory tests!
watching harold and kumar with mama was so much fun! how it all started was hilarious. we were sitting side by side getting our pedicures done on thursday when i told her i was arranging with some of the msc dudes to watch harold and kumar the next day to which she replied, like a needy teenage girlfriend (yes, my mom), "i also want to watch!!!", complete with furrowed brows and pout. she had gotten the idea that it was going to be one of those chevy chase national lampoon kinda movies, don't ask me why. pravin and jeevan had come back with raving reviews about it and she decided this was a show she couldn't pass up on. now, any kid would say no to watching such shows with his or her mom, riiiiight?
wrong! before i found out (after the movie was over) that she thought it was a national lampoon knock-off, i genuinely thought that my mom was starting to become more adventurous. i mean, she seemed to be living out her second teenagehood these few days, sometimes to the point where i'd feel i was more like the mother and she, the daughter. it got me really curious as to how my mom would react to such a show and i immediately said yes! and she told me just now before leaving work, she was actually boasting to her colleagues that she was going to watch "harold and kumar!"
so we just watched the show a few hours ago and it was so incredibly fun watching with her! she was actually laughing hysterically. at some scenes though, she would go, "you mean jeevan (my youngest bro turning 18 in a few days time) watched this?? how can jeevan watch this??" of course, she came out shaking her head but i'm sure she secretly enjoyed it and i told her so.
i have more things to say. but i'm going to put it in the next post, right after this one! now!
p.s. i actually thought the "square root of three'' poem was pretty smart. i loved it! here it is! don't read on if you want to preserve the surprise factor!
The Square Root of 3 by Dave Feinberg
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
i gotta get me one of those!
Messerschmitt KR201 1958
great family car, huh? like the jetsons in the 1950s.
Inter 175A Microcar
Messerschmitt KR201 1958
great family car, huh? like the jetsons in the 1950s.Inter 175A Microcar
i adore this. like driving a mini boat on land. it's so tiny that with one little headlight at the front, this car could probably be mistaken for a torch light.1956 Avolette Record De Luxe
is it me or does this car just make you happy?1958 Goggomobil Transporter
(you have to check out the other automobiles at this site!!)
if all police cars looked like this, criminals would be on-the run...towards them instead.Honda Puyo
click the link and read about it! it's really funny. trust the japanese! =)
swooooooooooon!!!and yes, they're real cars.
these eyes
so there are actually other people who see this static. it's called "visual snow". i only see it in the dark but according to that website, there are people who see it all the time. i do sometimes experience those increased afterimages or trails though. they seem to float up and down for a while, longer than they should according to what i read about persistence of vision and the sensory memory in my cognitive psych text. i find these trails quite fascinating. and do you sometimes see a black spot that seems to be in the centre of vision wherever you look? i do and it seems like i'm not alone.
and you know what's funny? i made a disclaimer in the post below that i wasn't on lsd. the visual snow website indicates that phenomena associated with visual snow also occurs in people who are on certain drugs, including lsd. =O
in other news, i'm sure by now you must have heard or read about the austrian man who locked his daughter up in a hidden cellar in his house and fathered seven children with her? in the papers today, lydia gouardo, a french woman, describes how she suffered a similar ordeal for 28 years, but what blows my mind is what she says at the end of that article and i am immediately ashamed of myself for not wanting to wake up in the morning sometimes, for wishing death or wasting my life away in despair.
so there are actually other people who see this static. it's called "visual snow". i only see it in the dark but according to that website, there are people who see it all the time. i do sometimes experience those increased afterimages or trails though. they seem to float up and down for a while, longer than they should according to what i read about persistence of vision and the sensory memory in my cognitive psych text. i find these trails quite fascinating. and do you sometimes see a black spot that seems to be in the centre of vision wherever you look? i do and it seems like i'm not alone.
and you know what's funny? i made a disclaimer in the post below that i wasn't on lsd. the visual snow website indicates that phenomena associated with visual snow also occurs in people who are on certain drugs, including lsd. =O
in other news, i'm sure by now you must have heard or read about the austrian man who locked his daughter up in a hidden cellar in his house and fathered seven children with her? in the papers today, lydia gouardo, a french woman, describes how she suffered a similar ordeal for 28 years, but what blows my mind is what she says at the end of that article and i am immediately ashamed of myself for not wanting to wake up in the morning sometimes, for wishing death or wasting my life away in despair.
Barely literate, unemployed, she hides her burn scars under long-sleeved clothes - but says she is happy to have survived.what grace she must have to say such a thing. those such as her, they are our real-life everyday heroes.
"When I think of what I've been through, I wonder how it's possible. Every day when I open the front door, I take a deep breath.
"I live from day to day. But I love life. When people complain, I say life is beautiful," she told RTL.
"I am fighting back now. When a bill comes through the door, I am happy. I am here, I exist."
Monday, April 28, 2008
lying in bed with the lights off and the curtains open, i stare up at the ceiling, wondering whether if i try hard enough, i can see colours in the dark, whether i can see an invisible world parallel to the one i'm in. and for the first time i noticed that in the dark, everything looks like it is covered by static, infinite specks of black and white. amazed by this new discovery, my eyes dart around the room, from the walls to the cupboard to my blanket to the space in between everything and the "static" is still there. is this normal? do you see the same thing lying on your bed with the lights off and the curtains open, staring at your ceiling?
and no, i'm not on lsd or whatever. goodnight!
and no, i'm not on lsd or whatever. goodnight!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
dear god,
thank you for the Dark Night. without it, i cannot know faith. and whilst i cry out for a hand to hold on to and keep me from drowning in despair, i know that i can never fully know faith like this if i am not alone. many times, i cry out to you, asking you when this will end. i lash out against the people who i love and who love me, asking why they were not there. but today, i have woken up to a new day and you allowed my eyes to pour over the words of a simple book you led me to and i am affirmed, encouraged, to not give up, to not lose hope, and to embrace my Dark Nights. to not know what should happen next and yet move forward with courage. to love without fear. i surrender this day to you. be with me in my choices.
love,
reenie
thank you for the Dark Night. without it, i cannot know faith. and whilst i cry out for a hand to hold on to and keep me from drowning in despair, i know that i can never fully know faith like this if i am not alone. many times, i cry out to you, asking you when this will end. i lash out against the people who i love and who love me, asking why they were not there. but today, i have woken up to a new day and you allowed my eyes to pour over the words of a simple book you led me to and i am affirmed, encouraged, to not give up, to not lose hope, and to embrace my Dark Nights. to not know what should happen next and yet move forward with courage. to love without fear. i surrender this day to you. be with me in my choices.
love,
reenie
i can't sleep.
i sometimes wonder, what is it like to go to sleep with a big smile on my face? i'm sure i must have done so before. but it feels like it's been too long, so long that i've forgotten what it's like.
as i lay my head on the pillow, i wonder whether i will get lonelier and lonelier from this day on. i start planning when i want to secure a job and what i should do for income till then and then i'm hit with the realisation: who am i going to enjoy with? i think about what i'm going to do when (if) i wake up tomorrow and i can't even get past the morning without feeling empty. bit by bit, i feel the walls caving in on me till it is just me. no voices, not even the sound of static or the universal hum. just my breathing.
some people said today (not for the first time), "i come to your blog, i read the first line and i want to off my computer," as a humour-intended passing comment about the length of my posts. "i don't understand what you are writing, i don't know whether you are happy or sad". i don't know either sometimes. but the irony of their jabs, what they didn't know, and will never know, because they probably never will get to this line, is that that's pretty how much i feel about my life these days. i feel like i'm just shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. till i'm not even worth a glance or ear anymore.
i could probably get used to it. i don't think so. i'm gonna try to get some sleep.
i sometimes wonder, what is it like to go to sleep with a big smile on my face? i'm sure i must have done so before. but it feels like it's been too long, so long that i've forgotten what it's like.
as i lay my head on the pillow, i wonder whether i will get lonelier and lonelier from this day on. i start planning when i want to secure a job and what i should do for income till then and then i'm hit with the realisation: who am i going to enjoy with? i think about what i'm going to do when (if) i wake up tomorrow and i can't even get past the morning without feeling empty. bit by bit, i feel the walls caving in on me till it is just me. no voices, not even the sound of static or the universal hum. just my breathing.
some people said today (not for the first time), "i come to your blog, i read the first line and i want to off my computer," as a humour-intended passing comment about the length of my posts. "i don't understand what you are writing, i don't know whether you are happy or sad". i don't know either sometimes. but the irony of their jabs, what they didn't know, and will never know, because they probably never will get to this line, is that that's pretty how much i feel about my life these days. i feel like i'm just shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. till i'm not even worth a glance or ear anymore.
i could probably get used to it. i don't think so. i'm gonna try to get some sleep.
Friday, April 25, 2008
"baby's black balloon makes her fly..."
on sunday, i was at a workshop (vocation discernment tools) and to keep awake, i started doodling in my notebook. it started with your normal average garden, which suddenly started spouting balloon plants (the "flowers" were balloons and the "leaves" were ribbons), one of which was then given by a boy to his lover, who then floated into the sky together, further boosted skywards by a whole bunch of balloons which had gathered below their feet. the doodling took on a life of its own to create a whole balloon planet whose occupants had wandered towards other parts of the universe. for example, there was a man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) walking his dog on, i don't know, jupiter? and of course, you can't leave out saturn because it has so much character (my favourite planet!). on one of its rings, a lone young man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) sits pondering, watching his planet far below him. a young lady (holding a bunch of balloons) hangs on to a star, which does not burn in her hands. a couch potato (with balloons tied to his couch) floats across the sky watching the best show of his life. as these ideas flowed out of my pen, i grew to love it more and more and decided that it would be my first paint "masterpiece".
the next day, i got to work. after having meticulously transfered my doodle onto the nervous new sheet of paper, i began my quest to become the next monet. not that i'm a huge fan of water colours but that's what papa got me so i was determined to kick some water colour ass! since monday, painting has taken on a whole new meaning for me. and i don't think i would have experienced this if i had not started with water colours. you see, painting with water colours (lets call it WC, haha) is really tedious. if its too watery, you smudge other parts. you can't paint your background first because it would be hard to paint things on top of it. because of that, you have to be so so careful when painting around all your people and balloons and trees and boats and whatever during the background stage. and then there's the issue of painting the little things. like the little people or the little ribbons (leaves of the balloon flowers) or the doggie's little face and for something so small and perhaps insignificant to an observer, it sure takes your utmost concentration. which was an experience of awe and wonder for me. it made me ponder the conception and creation of my very own existence.
i mean, like me, i'm sure you might sometimes look into the sky or at the sea and be blown away by the vastness and immensity of this universe and for that moment be throughly overwhelmed by the smallness of your being. how out there, here, in this universe, you must be nothing but a mere speck of dust (from dust we come and to dust we shall return). all these feelings that drench you, all these moments that create the life you live, all these words you say, all those thoughts, all these attempts to survive, to find meaning, to discover truth, to fight for what you love and believe in...how small they all must seem!
but why don't you try painting small people in WC? why don't you try painting little ribbons attached to strings attached to balloons in WC? and then, instead of despairing or belittling the smallness of your being, you will be overwhelmed by it instead! because sweeping a crimson-stained brush across a sunset sky is NOTHING compared to painting the whiskers on a little doggie. marvel at the precision and care that was taken for you be created exactly the way you are, whether you are a shireen or a joyce or a nash or a reno (if you see your name here, it's probably a result of divine inspiration or erm, sporadic thought!) of course, do not then scoff at sunsets and seas and stars and saturn! let the colours, the vastness and the brilliance sweep you off your feet. wonder at how they're never the same each moment and yet beautiful all the same.
well, now that pravin is back from new zealand, he's introduced me to the world of acrylics and of course, put an end to my delusions of being some kind of artistic prodigy! while painting now seems more daunting than ever, especially in the presence of someone worthy of the title, "artist", it's also really refreshing to learn about the variety of colours, strokes and techniques one can use with just a few tubes of paints and a couple of brushes. rather impressive even! i can't wait to wake up in the morning and try it all out! i didn't just now because when i started, the sheet fell of the easel and toppled the cup of water which spilled all over the floor which sent me into a panicked frenzy to save my painting and the floor! haha. also a sign to stop because i was really tired and pravin had just said before that, that painting while you are tired subconciously makes you bo chap (can't be bothered) and can be seen in your painting. painting, though releasing and random, is indeed a deliberate and intense process. the story of creation.
if you've succeeded getting to this part of the post, you sure won't regret it. here's why. i mentioned at the start of this post that i had been doodling this picture on sunday, and to add on, during the sleepiest parts of a sunday afternoon. now, today i'm scanning the papers, and i read about this catholic priest from brazil who, to raise funds, tied himself to a humongous bunch of helium-filled balloons and flew up, up , up into the sky to beat his previous record of flying with 600 balloons. the priest is now LOST!!! here's a scary fact, the priest flew up into the sky on sunday, the same day i had the mad inspiration to draw a pageful of people flying across the sky hanging on to balloons!! i didn't know whether to laugh or cry reading this article. this priest had actually shown that this crazy dream of mine was possible and not trivial enough to not be attempted (i'm sure others must have tried this but i haven't come across their stories yet). i really do hope that he is safe and does get found though! you can read about it here.
p.s. a select few will be privy to the finished piece and if it's GOOD, you guys MAY get to see it here. =P
p.s.2. go to flickr.com, search "balloons" and be blown away!
p.s.3. i finally figured out a way to stop kings of convenience from always receiving the spotlight on this blog!!! enjoy the songs. will add more soon.
on sunday, i was at a workshop (vocation discernment tools) and to keep awake, i started doodling in my notebook. it started with your normal average garden, which suddenly started spouting balloon plants (the "flowers" were balloons and the "leaves" were ribbons), one of which was then given by a boy to his lover, who then floated into the sky together, further boosted skywards by a whole bunch of balloons which had gathered below their feet. the doodling took on a life of its own to create a whole balloon planet whose occupants had wandered towards other parts of the universe. for example, there was a man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) walking his dog on, i don't know, jupiter? and of course, you can't leave out saturn because it has so much character (my favourite planet!). on one of its rings, a lone young man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) sits pondering, watching his planet far below him. a young lady (holding a bunch of balloons) hangs on to a star, which does not burn in her hands. a couch potato (with balloons tied to his couch) floats across the sky watching the best show of his life. as these ideas flowed out of my pen, i grew to love it more and more and decided that it would be my first paint "masterpiece".
the next day, i got to work. after having meticulously transfered my doodle onto the nervous new sheet of paper, i began my quest to become the next monet. not that i'm a huge fan of water colours but that's what papa got me so i was determined to kick some water colour ass! since monday, painting has taken on a whole new meaning for me. and i don't think i would have experienced this if i had not started with water colours. you see, painting with water colours (lets call it WC, haha) is really tedious. if its too watery, you smudge other parts. you can't paint your background first because it would be hard to paint things on top of it. because of that, you have to be so so careful when painting around all your people and balloons and trees and boats and whatever during the background stage. and then there's the issue of painting the little things. like the little people or the little ribbons (leaves of the balloon flowers) or the doggie's little face and for something so small and perhaps insignificant to an observer, it sure takes your utmost concentration. which was an experience of awe and wonder for me. it made me ponder the conception and creation of my very own existence.
i mean, like me, i'm sure you might sometimes look into the sky or at the sea and be blown away by the vastness and immensity of this universe and for that moment be throughly overwhelmed by the smallness of your being. how out there, here, in this universe, you must be nothing but a mere speck of dust (from dust we come and to dust we shall return). all these feelings that drench you, all these moments that create the life you live, all these words you say, all those thoughts, all these attempts to survive, to find meaning, to discover truth, to fight for what you love and believe in...how small they all must seem!
but why don't you try painting small people in WC? why don't you try painting little ribbons attached to strings attached to balloons in WC? and then, instead of despairing or belittling the smallness of your being, you will be overwhelmed by it instead! because sweeping a crimson-stained brush across a sunset sky is NOTHING compared to painting the whiskers on a little doggie. marvel at the precision and care that was taken for you be created exactly the way you are, whether you are a shireen or a joyce or a nash or a reno (if you see your name here, it's probably a result of divine inspiration or erm, sporadic thought!) of course, do not then scoff at sunsets and seas and stars and saturn! let the colours, the vastness and the brilliance sweep you off your feet. wonder at how they're never the same each moment and yet beautiful all the same.
well, now that pravin is back from new zealand, he's introduced me to the world of acrylics and of course, put an end to my delusions of being some kind of artistic prodigy! while painting now seems more daunting than ever, especially in the presence of someone worthy of the title, "artist", it's also really refreshing to learn about the variety of colours, strokes and techniques one can use with just a few tubes of paints and a couple of brushes. rather impressive even! i can't wait to wake up in the morning and try it all out! i didn't just now because when i started, the sheet fell of the easel and toppled the cup of water which spilled all over the floor which sent me into a panicked frenzy to save my painting and the floor! haha. also a sign to stop because i was really tired and pravin had just said before that, that painting while you are tired subconciously makes you bo chap (can't be bothered) and can be seen in your painting. painting, though releasing and random, is indeed a deliberate and intense process. the story of creation.
if you've succeeded getting to this part of the post, you sure won't regret it. here's why. i mentioned at the start of this post that i had been doodling this picture on sunday, and to add on, during the sleepiest parts of a sunday afternoon. now, today i'm scanning the papers, and i read about this catholic priest from brazil who, to raise funds, tied himself to a humongous bunch of helium-filled balloons and flew up, up , up into the sky to beat his previous record of flying with 600 balloons. the priest is now LOST!!! here's a scary fact, the priest flew up into the sky on sunday, the same day i had the mad inspiration to draw a pageful of people flying across the sky hanging on to balloons!! i didn't know whether to laugh or cry reading this article. this priest had actually shown that this crazy dream of mine was possible and not trivial enough to not be attempted (i'm sure others must have tried this but i haven't come across their stories yet). i really do hope that he is safe and does get found though! you can read about it here.
p.s. a select few will be privy to the finished piece and if it's GOOD, you guys MAY get to see it here. =P
p.s.2. go to flickr.com, search "balloons" and be blown away!
p.s.3. i finally figured out a way to stop kings of convenience from always receiving the spotlight on this blog!!! enjoy the songs. will add more soon.
Friday, April 18, 2008
a good kind of ache
Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow,
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Tripoli.
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the Yellow Sea.
From Bissau to Palau - in the shade of Avalon,
From Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony,
From Peru to Cebu fear the power of Babylon,
From Bali to Cali - far beneath the Coral Sea.
From the North to the South, Ebudae into Khartoum,
From the deep sea of Clouds to the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.
We can sail, we can sail...
We can steer, we can near with Rob Dickins at the wheel,
We can sigh, say goodbye Ross and his dependencies
We can sail, we can sail...
Orinoco Flow by Enya
Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow,
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Tripoli.
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the Yellow Sea.
From Bissau to Palau - in the shade of Avalon,
From Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony,
From Peru to Cebu fear the power of Babylon,
From Bali to Cali - far beneath the Coral Sea.
From the North to the South, Ebudae into Khartoum,
From the deep sea of Clouds to the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.
We can sail, we can sail...
We can steer, we can near with Rob Dickins at the wheel,
We can sigh, say goodbye Ross and his dependencies
We can sail, we can sail...
Orinoco Flow by Enya
Thursday, April 17, 2008
you know, i just love this space. from the photo above to the music to the colours to the words. don't get me wrong. i'm far from eloquent with a limited lexicon and my photography skills are probably in want and the music must seem so yesterday and my design skills are....what design skills. but all this together, it's just so...me. =)
well, if you really know me, at least the way i know me, then you'll understand.
in a few hours, i'll be back at shokudo. i'm definitely going for the sashimi and the bacon-wrapped asparagus. and i'll probably try something new. aaargh, what a headache. can't decide.
and oh yes, in a few hours, i'll be done with my final exam of my smu life. studying for cognitive psychology is pretty funny because in a way, you are kind of studying about how your mind absorbs, retains and processes things. so technically, it's like studying about how to study and then taking an exam on it. seriously, you have topics like memory, problem solving, reasoning and decision making....
ah, can't wait can't wait. to get round to serious business. like the beach holiday i've been drooling over. like playing ALOT of tennis. like going back to beautifying my purple room. like cooking. like reading storybook after storybook. like resuming my kampung cycling-swimming regime. like learning to do things like meditating, cooking (new stuff) and brushing up on my video editting. like spending more time with people i care about. like splashing some colours on the canvas lying beside my bed (papa et al. gave me a paint set, complete with easel and all for my birthday =D and yes, too much research proposing and psychology mugging has left the habit of going so-and-so et al firmly ingrained in me, ah my education!). and sooooo much more. and yea, i guess looking for a job as well.
ok i'm getting incoherent and carried away. and as i say this, i start to think about something i read in my language chapter for cog psych. well, this Grice fellow stated that there were 4 maxims for a conversation. quantity (keep it short and sweet), quality (self-explanatory), relevant (keep to the topic) and manner (to communicate in an orderly, coherent fashion). and as i appear to be failing to meet all 4, it's time to end this post. goodnight.
p.s. thank you for the surprise chocolates, mr pope groupie. you really learn fast (from papa M). chocolates are the cure and opium for all illnesses and dire circumstances. since i started with a smile, i shall end with one too, though that doesn't make sense. nothing does in this post. =)
well, if you really know me, at least the way i know me, then you'll understand.
in a few hours, i'll be back at shokudo. i'm definitely going for the sashimi and the bacon-wrapped asparagus. and i'll probably try something new. aaargh, what a headache. can't decide.
and oh yes, in a few hours, i'll be done with my final exam of my smu life. studying for cognitive psychology is pretty funny because in a way, you are kind of studying about how your mind absorbs, retains and processes things. so technically, it's like studying about how to study and then taking an exam on it. seriously, you have topics like memory, problem solving, reasoning and decision making....
ah, can't wait can't wait. to get round to serious business. like the beach holiday i've been drooling over. like playing ALOT of tennis. like going back to beautifying my purple room. like cooking. like reading storybook after storybook. like resuming my kampung cycling-swimming regime. like learning to do things like meditating, cooking (new stuff) and brushing up on my video editting. like spending more time with people i care about. like splashing some colours on the canvas lying beside my bed (papa et al. gave me a paint set, complete with easel and all for my birthday =D and yes, too much research proposing and psychology mugging has left the habit of going so-and-so et al firmly ingrained in me, ah my education!). and sooooo much more. and yea, i guess looking for a job as well.
ok i'm getting incoherent and carried away. and as i say this, i start to think about something i read in my language chapter for cog psych. well, this Grice fellow stated that there were 4 maxims for a conversation. quantity (keep it short and sweet), quality (self-explanatory), relevant (keep to the topic) and manner (to communicate in an orderly, coherent fashion). and as i appear to be failing to meet all 4, it's time to end this post. goodnight.
p.s. thank you for the surprise chocolates, mr pope groupie. you really learn fast (from papa M). chocolates are the cure and opium for all illnesses and dire circumstances. since i started with a smile, i shall end with one too, though that doesn't make sense. nothing does in this post. =)