Wahahaha I have finally found the answer to people who tell me to look at Job and that "God can answer prayers in many ways. He can answer yes, He can also answer no" and whatever whatever I should stop asking for blessings and stop being so happy about it all because "Blessed is the name of the Lord. He giveth and He taketh." And when that happens, I should not blame Him.
-_-" Yes yes sure. How much more distorted can you read the Bible manz.
STOP TELLING ME MY GOD IS NOT AS AWESOME AS I THINK HE IS!!!
PHTTT.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Potong Pasir
I ventured into a non-PAP dominated ward yesterday, the difference just hung in the air. There was an immediate calm that descended on me the moment I exited the MRT station and the area felt so serene without bordering on dullness. Shopkeepers were uninterested and bored apparently, but it didn't seem to bother me I don't know why.
A walkway cutting across a field displayed Chiam See Tong's contribution to the people in 2008, and I couldn't help but ponder what the residents did in the 24 years before. But hang on, the station wasn't there for all of the 24 years anyway.
The residential blocks were quaint. The architect seemed to have a distaste for the right angle, opting instead for a weak attempt at designing it as such, probably in a bid to fall within construction regulations.
The entire neighbourhood is powered by invisible economic forces for surely with such a sparse crowd, there must be sufficient market attractiveness to fill up every square foot of shop space, even to the point of dividing the floor area to incredible proportions.
There is a very silent and powerful lure to the area as you just wish to turn that same corner one more time. Everything is different when it is really the same, everything is fascinating when nothing has changed. It is unspeakable how the place makes you feel, and how it has been deliberately forgotten but has stubbornly survived.
I'll bring my camera there one day.
A walkway cutting across a field displayed Chiam See Tong's contribution to the people in 2008, and I couldn't help but ponder what the residents did in the 24 years before. But hang on, the station wasn't there for all of the 24 years anyway.
The residential blocks were quaint. The architect seemed to have a distaste for the right angle, opting instead for a weak attempt at designing it as such, probably in a bid to fall within construction regulations.
The entire neighbourhood is powered by invisible economic forces for surely with such a sparse crowd, there must be sufficient market attractiveness to fill up every square foot of shop space, even to the point of dividing the floor area to incredible proportions.
There is a very silent and powerful lure to the area as you just wish to turn that same corner one more time. Everything is different when it is really the same, everything is fascinating when nothing has changed. It is unspeakable how the place makes you feel, and how it has been deliberately forgotten but has stubbornly survived.
I'll bring my camera there one day.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Family Court
The Family Court is.. whoa. I don't even know what words I have for it.
There is no expected suspense in the plot whatsoever, but the ending definitely twists.
A straightforward case between an irresponsible father and a grown-up son becomes entangled with human emotions when a low IQ brother is added in. A prostitute turns out to be an abandoned woman who just wants her son back but only for impossibly selfish reasons but then is actually a doting mother.
Videography is excellent as well. It's not cliched, or excessively revealing. The viewer is put in an interesting third-first person position, where we are well aware that we are watching a story, but we are seeing it as the characters would.
You are kept thinking by the people, wondering what on earth they are, paying less attention to the plot per se, but still second guessing yourself nevertheless. The people are extremely real and their stories are close to life; it's almost like a group of your friends who get hit by events in life and they have to deal with it just like we humans do. Strong acting compact it further and it is for sure that despite the beautiful people they are, the show does not thrive on what is only skin deep.
There is no expected suspense in the plot whatsoever, but the ending definitely twists.
A straightforward case between an irresponsible father and a grown-up son becomes entangled with human emotions when a low IQ brother is added in. A prostitute turns out to be an abandoned woman who just wants her son back but only for impossibly selfish reasons but then is actually a doting mother.
Videography is excellent as well. It's not cliched, or excessively revealing. The viewer is put in an interesting third-first person position, where we are well aware that we are watching a story, but we are seeing it as the characters would.
You are kept thinking by the people, wondering what on earth they are, paying less attention to the plot per se, but still second guessing yourself nevertheless. The people are extremely real and their stories are close to life; it's almost like a group of your friends who get hit by events in life and they have to deal with it just like we humans do. Strong acting compact it further and it is for sure that despite the beautiful people they are, the show does not thrive on what is only skin deep.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Writing a diary builds humility
I remember my early attempts at writing a diary when I was a kid. Taking literally the instructions of people further in life, I wrote down the exact happenings of the day earlier. It was almost a transcription of real life minus the feelings, thoughts and emotions.
I remember an entry sparked by a random inspiration to write and fill up a new notebook, and thinking that the day had not turned out the perfect way I think all things should be. So I re-wrote that day's history to how I want future generations to see it. And then mum read it.
I remember her asking me why I wrote things that way when they happened another way and I shrugged it off with a clumsy "Aiyah, just anyhow write la", receiving a sharp "How can anyhow write one" in return.
I remember thinking obviously that was not the real reason and what was real could not be told.
Writing a diary is stripping yourself naked and looking at your own body in the mirror. Your imperfect body parts, awkward proportions, random blemishes all staring back at you without any disguises. You have to face it and take it head on or you'll never know what the body can do beyond standing there as it is.
Writing a diary builds humility. It makes you admit you are the way you are.
I remember an entry sparked by a random inspiration to write and fill up a new notebook, and thinking that the day had not turned out the perfect way I think all things should be. So I re-wrote that day's history to how I want future generations to see it. And then mum read it.
I remember her asking me why I wrote things that way when they happened another way and I shrugged it off with a clumsy "Aiyah, just anyhow write la", receiving a sharp "How can anyhow write one" in return.
I remember thinking obviously that was not the real reason and what was real could not be told.
Writing a diary is stripping yourself naked and looking at your own body in the mirror. Your imperfect body parts, awkward proportions, random blemishes all staring back at you without any disguises. You have to face it and take it head on or you'll never know what the body can do beyond standing there as it is.
Writing a diary builds humility. It makes you admit you are the way you are.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tweetfest!
Just thought I'd concentrate all my microblog posts here.
I need to have more running away dreams. I am running slower and getting caught already!
Bliss is having a pair of strong arms to hold you tight.
Rain is the biggest blessing from Heaven.
Being able to shit when you should is awesome!
Why does my dad smell like a baby?
I can't get enough of idol dramas!
Escapism is my heroin.
Give me a few more episodes and I'll give a damn good review of the The Family Court.
Channel 8 dramas hasn't seen such quality.. in a while!
I am just totally itching to carry a baby.
I need to have more running away dreams. I am running slower and getting caught already!
Bliss is having a pair of strong arms to hold you tight.
Rain is the biggest blessing from Heaven.
Being able to shit when you should is awesome!
Why does my dad smell like a baby?
I can't get enough of idol dramas!
Escapism is my heroin.
Give me a few more episodes and I'll give a damn good review of the The Family Court.
Channel 8 dramas hasn't seen such quality.. in a while!
I am just totally itching to carry a baby.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Hi Dav
Well Dav, I think you should find out the whole story before you decide what's a shame. Thank you and your cell very much for praying for me, but I hold on to the belief that it's nothing more than a hypocritical act that he is praying for me.
I have learnt from before, during and after the trip that he is good with words, with professing his love for God and doing things that benefit only himself, then proclaiming it in God's name.
It is true that I hate him, and it's not as easy to let go as you say it is. I am praying, definitely. But don't simplify the whole matter and the hurt I've experienced.
I cannot, anymore, think that there is anyone more in his heart than he and himself. I have seen too much that even when I intentionally close my eyes, I am still blinded. And in no surprise at all, the person who gave the final blow was he himself.
You may think that post was hurting to read as a friend of his, but what brought you to this blog in the first place? You and I, who never met? Do you know what happened on my side of the computer before I finally wrote it out? Did you think it was just a post immaturely written without a blink of an eye?
But don't be mistaken I am leading an angry and hateful life. I am happy, yes. The various unhappy episodes throughout all the time I've known him have finally stopped playing in mind, no doubt in part thanks to you and your cell's prayer :)
But if you ask me now, I still have absolutely no wish of seeing and talking to him. His actions and words have overwhelmingly convinced me that he is the centre of his world, and anything else is only to raise himself higher on his own pedestal.
I have been emotionally beaten up by him, and I know better than to let myself be hurt by him once more, and somehow this is something I know will definitely happen should he start appearing in my life again.
If you think that this is not true, and I am biased, I do not deny. But I know I have not jumped to conclusions. I am just choosing to protect myself and preventing me from pulling myself back into that abyss of anguish.
We both have our sides of the story, and you might be better acquainted with his side. Don't bother sharing it with me, though. I am sick, and tired, of hearing him explain himself.
Why I'm writing this to you, simply is because my blog is my shout-out, and sometimes, that is what I need to do. I am not talking to people about this, you know. And really, your comments are just pulling me back to what I'm trying to leave behind. If you think that I'm immature, inconsiderate, conceited, and everything else bad (or in his words, sinful), then please kindly refrain from this page. It will do the both of us good.
God bless you too :)
I have learnt from before, during and after the trip that he is good with words, with professing his love for God and doing things that benefit only himself, then proclaiming it in God's name.
It is true that I hate him, and it's not as easy to let go as you say it is. I am praying, definitely. But don't simplify the whole matter and the hurt I've experienced.
I cannot, anymore, think that there is anyone more in his heart than he and himself. I have seen too much that even when I intentionally close my eyes, I am still blinded. And in no surprise at all, the person who gave the final blow was he himself.
You may think that post was hurting to read as a friend of his, but what brought you to this blog in the first place? You and I, who never met? Do you know what happened on my side of the computer before I finally wrote it out? Did you think it was just a post immaturely written without a blink of an eye?
But don't be mistaken I am leading an angry and hateful life. I am happy, yes. The various unhappy episodes throughout all the time I've known him have finally stopped playing in mind, no doubt in part thanks to you and your cell's prayer :)
But if you ask me now, I still have absolutely no wish of seeing and talking to him. His actions and words have overwhelmingly convinced me that he is the centre of his world, and anything else is only to raise himself higher on his own pedestal.
I have been emotionally beaten up by him, and I know better than to let myself be hurt by him once more, and somehow this is something I know will definitely happen should he start appearing in my life again.
If you think that this is not true, and I am biased, I do not deny. But I know I have not jumped to conclusions. I am just choosing to protect myself and preventing me from pulling myself back into that abyss of anguish.
We both have our sides of the story, and you might be better acquainted with his side. Don't bother sharing it with me, though. I am sick, and tired, of hearing him explain himself.
Why I'm writing this to you, simply is because my blog is my shout-out, and sometimes, that is what I need to do. I am not talking to people about this, you know. And really, your comments are just pulling me back to what I'm trying to leave behind. If you think that I'm immature, inconsiderate, conceited, and everything else bad (or in his words, sinful), then please kindly refrain from this page. It will do the both of us good.
God bless you too :)
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Pink flower
Pretty pink flower, lovely pastel hue.
Daintily imprinted, invisibly dyed.
Drawn to grow upwards.
Or downwards however you see.
Daintily imprinted, invisibly dyed.
Drawn to grow upwards.
Or downwards however you see.
Wonder. What child could that have been.
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