God, networks and heartlessness

Recently I don't like to post entries online because the online space is getting a little too public for my liking; some thoughts ought to be kept within the offline zones, away from prying eyes and inquisitive hearts. But this time, just this time, I'm gonna blog about some things/ emotions/ thoughts that would be way too painful (both literally and figuratively) to pen it out on my tangible diary.

"Am I heartless?"

I walked home wondering if I really was that given the circumstances involving a friend's relationship. Actually a mutual friend told me about it last weekend, and I gave her the irritated response. Her response to me was exactly that which made me think today (now) whether I'm some heartless asshole. Okay, granted I wasn't told of it tonight; so technically I shouldn't know about it. But in all honesty, if I knew it'd work out to this emotional cost, I really wouldn't want to know. BUT then again this involves a friend --- a relatively close one too --- I can't simply walk away and not care, can I? I mean I feel disappointed for and with her, would lend her my shoulder to cry on or even cry with her; but I was feeling irritated, perhaps even angry inside. It was an anger directed at the relationship, at both fellas and at the timing of it. It was a relationship that hasn't found its feet repeatedly; it was a rocky one, perhaps one perpetually caught in a storm or at least one with looming dark clouds. Biblically, it was not okay (unequally yoked). But how do you say these things to a hurting friend?! Yes the truth hurts, but I ain't some moral crusader. I don't know how to tackle this, not even sure whether I should since technically I shouldn't know of it. Fact that word didn't come to me via a primary OR secondary source really does speak a lil of the strength of ties between the relevant parties eh (following social network theory). But this isn't the place to debate the relevancy of academia; I just want to learn (know) how to manage this emotion.

"I (think I) am a heartless single."

While showering I wondered whether my nonchalency, even my anger, could be attributed to my historical lack of a girlfriend. My apathy for the grieving halves is hence not real and perhaps unrealistic. That thought came to me as a counter-argument for all the advice I was thinking of dishing out. Now that I'm thinking about it, perhaps the way to go about doing this is not to do anything but quietly support the grieving. Nevertheless this silence doesn't do anything that reduces or mitigates the emotion of anger: I still am rather irritated. How can I correct if I've never been through it? I have no moral standing, neither can I make legitimate claims simply because I have a lack of 'experience'. I don't want to correct also because I don't know what's right, or wrong --- which is also an outcome of the experiential lack.

"Informal social networks: seeking man before seeking God"

I wonder now whether whenever we face trials, setbacks even heartbreaks, our first response is to seek man, instead of first seeking God. And my my, news does travel fast (especially-ironically in the ministry where gossiping is sin). I asked whether the grieving needed people there --- now that I think of it, I think my larger question could have been: essentially, does she have that space to seek God first or have people (friends) crowd that divine appointment out? As a disclaimer, I don't always seek God first all the time (yes, even till now) simply because sometimes all I really want is a hug from a close brother or a listening ear and zipped lips. But nevertheless, I asked myself as I took the elevator up to my apartment: Where's God in all of this?

It's even more interesting, now that I think of it, because I just shared with the camp leaders about how "All theology is practical theology". Now I see this discourse of 'god' (intentionally left in lowercase) can be a means to shrug another off, be extremely offensive and even symbolically violent. Biblically, here I am reminded of the love that the Bible exhorts us to do: strangely I'm also reminded that I just shared with the main camp committee about how when the Bible instructs us to do something, more likely than not these commandments stem from something much deeper, beyond the realm of bone and marrow.

I asked God: Why did you let me listen to all of this when I, who was almost dead beat in the car, could and wanted to go home? It is a question that I think I will not be able to answer quickly; but the one thing I'm confident about is that: all things shall work out good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose --- this I am well assured.

I wish you were still here.

Today as we usher in the Lunar Year of the Dragon, we also celebrate the presence of our loved ones and friends. We organise reunion meals of all forms --- BBQ, grill, steamboat, pot luck --- and then catch up on each others' lives be it through a decent conversation or mere small talk. Nevertheless it is exactly because we see some value in these social gatherings, that's why we participate in them. In other words, we celebrate each others' presence and lives because we see value in the relationships shared.

But strangely today I was reminded not just of those present around me; I was reminded of those who have gone before us and who have, well gone home. I remember how the New Year celebrations were like with them around and the birthdays we use to celebrate for them. I remember the food they made and the persistent naggings at every of our lil' meetings. I remember the days I'd run down the stairs and the days the kids'd gather in the room and prepare an item for the adults (gosh, I really disliked those mini performances). I really, really missed them.

I wish my brother and sister were with me.

I wish my paternal grandmother was still around.

I wish my gong-gong was still around.

I wish to hold my ye-ye's hand and know him.

I wish my great-grandaunt was here.

There can be a thousand wishes posted here but I know, I know that none of them will ever come true. My only comfort is that they're in good hands (I pray so) and that the Lord is indeed what the Word says He is: sovereign. So in this Lunar New Year, the second 12-year cycle till the Year of the Dragon returns again, I suppose this entry is pretty sobering and humbling to write: That my life is not my own; indeed "To live is Christ and to die is gain // No matter what price I pay, I choose this give this life away"

The road beneath me moves
with my back against the motion.
My heart, tired from the day's labour
cringes to hear a word
or a desire for a warm embrace:
... It seems all too meaningless;
it seems all too vain an effort -
but the road beneath me moves
with my back still against the motion.

listen to the waves and tell me what do you hear?

"with every crash, the waves shall
Claw on the beaches of your mind
- tearing with every pull of the sea
a memory,
a thought,
until all you're left with
are shards of broken glass;
now your mind is clear.
really?"

I ended a three-hour meeting.

Don't get me wrong - the meeting went fine; in fact, I'd say it was rather productive considering that we managed to tie some loose ends together. Perhaps it's the duration of the meeting that rendered me tired and worn out. Whatever the case, today's one of those days I want to be alone.

But the lure of friends deny me that opportunity. Funny how everybody seems to rally around a person departing our midst and in the process forget, or at least seems to forget everyone else. For a moment, that one person has been turned into a newborn child who holds the world's attention. It is a sight to behold, yet a lonely experience to have. Perhaps this is how the older child feels when he's got a new brother/sister in the family - he's forgotten, or at least seems to be forgotten.

Don't get me wrong, again - we're all friends and this is one of those few moments we have left with him. But yet, it seems all attention is diverted to him. Attention is a resource: once diverted, others are deprived.

Here's where I ask myself whether I'm being selfish.

My answer: I think I am; but more pertinently, am I wrong in requesting for a listening ear too?

I'm starting to feel numb to this whole . . . issue-situation(?). I really don't want a community of friends who only get together to chill-hang out. I mean it's great to have that, but it seems so . . . superficial. To know that after all these years I've been in church and to not have an community of friends where I can openly pour my heart out is depressing. Honestly, the feeling totally sucks. The people I'm close to - or at least close enough to pour my heart out - are pre-dominantly friends out of church (nick's the exception). As far as my cynical mind takes me, I reckon this will continue to some time and that thought is totally, totally depressing.

For now, tonight, I will go out and be merry with them. After all, that's what I'm supposed to do . . . act.

of social theory, interviews and God

I want to put this up just so I remind myself of how good God has been to me over the past week.

To begin with, I was faced with a colossal task of churning out two essay-assingments due on consecutive days; to be precise, the datelines were barely nine hours apart from each other. The datelines were not much of an issue when compared to the 2500-word essay, 1500-word essay, a full interview transcript and an interview schedule (list of questions) that desperately my attention - the last three form the final report for a research practicum module and the formermost was for a social theory class. While the latter required much intellectual capacity from me, the former sought hard for my mental, emotional and psychological attention. I knew it was going to be a long weekend ahead, and I was mentally prepared for that; or so I thought I was.

A few things screwed up last week as well. One of which was a 3-hour interview that my phone failed to record any detail at all. That was a huge, huge bummer for me. Then there was the NUS exchange application that I had to do by Friday (dateline). All these pulled my attention in all directions, severing any form of rootedness in any singular project. I only read, and read more and more articles in preparation for my social theory paper - I mean it is a theory paper after all, so just suck it up and read them. I re-did my interview with another respondent, a close friend of mine, on Wednesday. That interview went better than I expected and as with my two prior interviews, I was more glad that through the interviews I got to know them better as a friend and as a brother in Christ. The Wednesday interview lasted three hours, but because the content was good and the flow was decently acceptable I was satisfied. But I didn't start transcribing - something which on hindsight was my oversight and miscalculation - immediately that day, or the day after. Instead I started on Friday after having completed all of the exchange application procedures and processes. What pissed me off in particular that day was the fact that after having done most of the application in the library (both the online and photocopying of documents), I left for the bus-stop to wait for my bus that will bring me out of school. The bus came; I boarded; I tapped. Then I realised I had left my IC in the library - thus began the ardous walk back to the library to redeem it. It was a tough day that day. Transcription began in the National Library where all in all, I spent 5 hours transcribing barely half an hour I reckon. I went home and continued working on it, finishing up to the 50-minute mark. Then I slept.

Having slept seven hours, I woke up to have breakfast before returning to begin on my theory paper. Breakfast was soon to be the only substantial meal I would have the entire day. I started reading further for the theory paper and only properly began at 3pm only to realise that I needed to key in my reference list. That alone took me an hour. So effectively I only started proper at 4pm and the writing process lasted 6 hours, ending at 10pm. My mum cooked me some instant noodles which barely filled my tummy, but I couldn't do much about it; work needed to be done. I carried on with my transcription before turning in at the 80-minute mark. I already started to feel my body starting to break down in the face of all of this hungry pursuit of esssay/assignment completion. It was bad.

Sunday began with morning service before cell group. For the first time in my years in the ministry, this is the First time I skipped a youth service for academics' sake. Instead I dropped my kids off at the tabernacle before heading to St Hilda's to begin my transcriptions. I managed to transcribe the last 40 minutes with those in between undertaken by friends. I then went back to church hoping - just hoping - that the rest will be going off for dinner. In the end, they were going to the airport for their dinner thus compelling me, under the surmounting pressure to finish the assignments, to have dinner on my own before heading back to carry on with the work. En route, I met Aldrin with whom I later had dinner with. I reflected later while going home that it was a quirky way that God was reminding me of the heart for the boys that He has given to me; quirky, I know.

I reached home at around 9pm, with the first dateline due at 2359h that night. I quickly edited my work before submitting it online; after which, I took a shower to refresh myself. Work on the 1500-report began at 10pm and that alone took me 2hours to complete. By 12 midnight, I was dead beat. I still had to type out the interview schedule which took me another two hours or so. I carried on with my further transcriptions at 3am and ended at 5. The compilation and editing process was insane. The final compiled report was 79 pages long and the interview transcript itself took up a good 50-odd pages. It wasn't the most pleasant thing I've done. But by the time I was done, my dad was up and edging me to leave the house - he needed to get to work himself, but the deal was that he'll drop me off at school en route to work. I hardly had a chance to breathe before scurrying away to grab my towel to refresh myself and get changed. To cut the long story short, I slept on the ride to school; slept for an hour in hall before waking up to print and bind the report together at the library in the morning. I was finally done assignments-wise. I still had to endure a lecture on content analysis and another on globalisation before heading up to SAO to submit my documents for the NUS exchange; only then, did my day end and I could finally catch a breather.

Why then, this post?

Because I reflected how thankful I am to God, my provider and sustainer, for seeing me through the weekend - particularly through Sunday night/morning. It dawned upon me that I was able to say "I don't really care anymore about the grades that I'll receive" only because I was numbed to the whole process; yet, strangely enough I wasn't ecstatic about the submission - I was just happy that it is over. Then I realised that I'd only say this kind of things - thus warranting this post to be etenally monumentalised in electronic media - when I'm tired; on the contrary, I know that just prior to the release of results of essays, I'd be praying prayers about "God to honour me" and "God to bless me with this and that". But really, all I want to do now is to remember that in spite of all my work, His blessings are already planned for me to take; but what really matters to me is my attitude towards the work that laid before me. As a student, this is my season to study, therefore I ought to worship God with the times that I study. I tend to forget that, thus resulting in my praying prayers that seem to assume that just because I put in a lot of effort, God should honour my work; or even a demand from me to God to give me the A's that I want. But truth is, it's not about me; it's never been about me. When I think about how some people can do just as well without seeming to spend as much time and energy as I did, I feel really unfair - to me, it's injustice. But when I start to look at my role as a student, which I'm now called to be, I ought to be mindful of my own attitudes and behaviour towards the 'colossal' tasks set before me. Through these attitudes, it is with great hope that others can see the glory of God and thus someday praise my Father in heaven.

Sure I do hope and pray for the A's; but I'm starting and also beginning to struggle with the call to obedience, a life of faith and a life recognising and living out a God-centred, Christ-as-Lord-not-I life.

To God be all glory forever and ever.

[controversially]

I know that whatever I'm about to say here may/ will have implications. I am aware that my words carry weight, and this post may possibly be my most controversial as of yet; which is why it took me a good 2-3 hours to consolidate my thoughts and also to consider very carefully whether or not to post this. I want to be as cautious as possible, such that the cynical-negative(?) spirit doesn't find a new host and replicate itself spawning into something that the church will have to grapple and battle against. Lord, sanctify my lips; sanctify my words; sancitfy me.

Let's begin first with a positive recollection. I was walking back to the community centre where we had cell group and was just reflecting and talking to the Lord at the same time. I realised that even though organising camps and planning stuff for the ministry (including cell structure/ material) may sound fun and rewarding, I really don't want to do it. I know for certain God has given me a heart for the youths, more specifically the boys, and I don't want to place myself on a planning pedastal; I want to be with the kids. Marx is right: social change doesn't take place in a philosopher's, or in this case a planner's, chair but it takes place from the ground up. Being a role model for these boys is what I want to do. That being said, I know and am confident that the Word that has been taught and given to me ought to be the sustanance of my life: it alone is my providence and source. At this point, I'm reminded that in the Christian walk with Christ, one must never ever leave the cross and the beauty-brutality of it. The centrality of the cross must be the crux of a Christian's life.

Then I also realised that the people you love most are also the people who grieve you the most. They are the people whose actions/ words/ attitude/ even behaviour will hurt you the most. But at the same time, they are also the people who brings you much joy and laughter. They lift you up with the smallest acts and sweetest, albeit little, words. My three boys fall in this category, as do my cell kids. They are the greatest joy and blessing God has ever given to me apart from my family.

And it is also this very same love for them that compels me to type this entry.

I have been a cell leader for the past 6 years of my life. It is no mystery that I will/ should be leaving the ministry soon, as much as I don't want to. I have seen my kids grow into the men and women of God today, themselves soaked in the Word and prayerfully living out the Word as well. Last week, when I was reading 3 John 4 which reads: "I have no greater joy than to hear my children are walking in the truth", something stirred within my spirit. I had to praise God for my kids; I knew I had to. These past 6 years have also allowed me to take on a rather active role in the ministry: how God opened doors for me to organise events, including a camp in 2008, be a mentor to three wonderful boys, be part of the cell material planning committee and also a ministry leader of the sound team. He has indeed moulded me to the person I am today.

But now that I'm 23 - an age that sits precariously on the fence of the youth ministry and that of the young adults', I feel as if I'm being sidelined (read: marginalised). It's not as if I am the only one feeling this way; others feel it too. When I think about my contemporaries, I wonder to myself whether they too are getting the same attention as they (we) got when we were only beginning as cell leaders. I remember saying this to myself while walking back to hall: Under the guise of the youth ministry being dynamic and always changing, the older ones will inevitably be sidelined and forgotten. Where have all my peers gone? Are they receiving the same attention -- let's not even mention feeding and encouragement -- as they received when they were beginning? Now that the older cells are more stable and firm, it seems as if we're forgotten.

And I say we're being forgotten also because there isn't any proper way out for us, yea, even into the young adults' ministry. The bureaucracy of the church has taken ahold of the 'family' that the Word speaks of: what's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. There ain't no proper transition, and I doubt there will ever be one. It saddens me a hell lot really, that we proclaim ourselves to be a family of God yet the boundaries seem to be marked clearly along invisible bureaucratic lines. It's depressing.

When I say that the youth ministry operates under the guise of dynamism (constant change), new leaders are sought after every year. I don't deny that there is such a need since so that the primary six children can transition more smoothly into the youth ministry. In fact I see the transition of these children to be more systematic than that of the youths into the young adults' ministry. I sincerely hope we're not playing the numbers game here, please. But back to the new leaders. There is an ongoing active search for them and I agree that youths ought to recognise that just as they have received from their leaders, they ought to give to the younger ones as well. But here's my gripe with the entire situation: You grab these youths now and turn them to leaders. No doubt we will train them well, and with the support that the older leaders can give them and of course with God's grace, they will blossom to be effective shepherds of the flock entrusted to them. But will they end up like my contemporaries and I, forgotten and sidelined because "Oh! A new batch of kids are coming in!"

I really don't want/ wish to see my own kids fall into this same hole that many of us find ourselves in. It's saddening and also depressing because these kids do have potential to teach and preach the Word to the younger ones. But until a smooth transition programme from youth to young adults' ministry is more concrete (structurally) and a heart for ALL youths within the ministry is present (agency-heart), I'm doubtful even cynical of putting these youths up for leadership. I also realise that the leaders who are currently well rooted in the ministry are those currently active in the smaller ministries within. What about those who aren't rooted in/ serving in those ministries? I fear for them too.

By saying all of this I'm not attacking the church, nor am I discounting the efforts of the present staff team. But that doesn't stop me from fearing for these youths' lives: like some of my contemporaries, some will leave the church, others might perhaps leave the faith altogether. I don't give two-shit about the numbers; I only wish for the family of God to be what it is: a family of God. It is this fear that stems from a love for them that compels me to write this. You probably can't see me and my heart, but if you can you'd see me cringing both outside and inside. I'm afraid and I'm saddened by the brute reality of my mind's playback and constructions.

I'm honestly leaving this in God's hands. This is my spiritual family -- it is also my spiritual community, though at times it doesn't seem like it -- and I know I have a part to play. But I am only one, and as of now I wonder how my cynicism will lead me to be reflexive about this issue: change it, or leave (both literally and metaphorically) it? God's the head of this house and He will not let His church fall: by His very Word, He upholds the universe, what more a church/ spiritual community? As I write this out, there is a certain assurance in my heart that He is present and He knows best. Whether or not I'm gonna be part of His plan, I don't know. All I know now is that He is control and He will act when it is time for His name's sake.

As of now, I just want to be found obedient and fulfill what Christ asked Peter to do if the latter loved Him: Feed His sheep -- that's all I want to do.

a load off my chest.

We had a good talk, finally.

I know God has been dealing with me with regard to this whole issue; that I needed to talk to him. And that desire to talk has been floating in my head for a real long time -- it has popped up during my quiet moments with God, after Sunday sermons, even after chatting with nick. Point is: I know God's been dealing with my stubborn heart and I, in response, was just what I was -- stubborn.

I must admit though, that for a good deal of that experience of God dealing with me, pride and the ego got caught up along the way. If it weren't those two insidious sins, I'd say it was procrastination so much so that it took me perhaps a month to actually talk to him about it.

But to begin with, tonight's 100mins chat wasn't birthed from that desire to talk about what happened. Truth be told, I was burdened and troubled whilst on the train/ bus back to school. That burden pertained to the ministry and I knew I had to talk to someone about it. Xavier messaged me after noticing my facebook status and that greatly warmed my heart. But I couldn't possibly tell him about it; neither did I want to tell my peers about my feelings, not because I wasn't close to them but rather I was afraid that those conversations will only result in greater animosity and doubt. I wanted to avoid gossips, and possibly slandering; that would not be helpful to our friendship and definitely, not the ministry. Thus the call to talk about first the ministry then slowly, inevitably, we talked about the saga that took place. Apologies were exchanged but we still remained focused on the growth of the ministry -- that warmed my heart: it was somewhat in line with what SP preached today about uniting in the Great Commission despite the many differences the apostles had with each other.

After the conversation, I knew I was released -- released from a hurt, disappointment; a burden was lifted. For the first time since the saga happened, I can say our friendship did take a beating but I know, and am assured that our relationship will only be strengthened because of this. I love this ministry, and damn I love my brothers; I love my God and I appreciate the grace and salvation He has given to me. Faith is a gift, and it is one that has been given to me; I don't want to take it for granted, neither do I want to negate its source. For all these reasons and more, I want to stand alongside my brothers in the ministry: we can have our differences but when it comes to saving lost souls and building lives, damn we're gonna stand together.

I'm thankful for this day, I really am.

Forgiveness and grace I have freely received;

it's a load off my chest -- I know I'm,

free.

cyclical cynicism

Last time I checked, the last blog entry was in June. That entry had me musing, reflecting how transient my thoughts are. For that matter, now that I think about it, how transient life is. In June, I ended off a thank-you note to God (as if He reads blogs in the first place; He knows my thoughts even before I speak them the Bible says), this time however it seems almost as if cynicism drives a big part of my life. See, in the past month I've been hurt; but more than that, I've been hurt by my closest friends.

Please do not be mistaken: I'm not penning this entry because I'm still angry/upset over what took place. I mean, when I think about it I do get periodically upset -- not angry -- but that's not my intention here. Being a sociology major, being cynical is part of the deal; so for me, cynicism is somewhat my way of thinking: it's how I'm trained to view the social world and its reality placed before me. And I've never had any problems reconciling my faith with this cynicism. I've always seen, and still do, see my cynicism being stemmed from my (and by relation, the human race) imperfect knowledge of how the world works and its intenal logic/ mechanisms. I could live with that; rather, I could live with myself.

But this time round when I pen this entry, I'm a victim of the alienated world; I am as a close friend would say, a "lone ranger". As mentioned before I was hurt by my closest friends. It was as if a part of me died with it. Needless to say, a part of our friendship died along with it. Oh, the unintended consequences but nevertheless the sad realities of life! I thought I was alone in all of this mess, but I was wrong. Very recently I chanced upon a blog, created by a very close friend, where I read his intimate feelings. I wouldn't say it was poetic, but one can tell the tough rationalisation and reconciliation he had to face between his emotions and realities. Since he is a very close friend of mine, seeing and knowing him to hurt only made me hurt; and in the process, that made me even more cynical of relationships.

Don't be mistaken: I believe in relationships. But I also believe that relationships are meaningful only when there is trust present. With trust comes a certain level of respect that comes along with an expectation that one places on the other. When either of this fails, the relationship breaks down either in part or in the extreme case, in full. Religion though personal, is also a social phenomenon. Don't give me that crap about respecting and trusting the other without receiving the same yourself. If it ain't an input-output (doesn't have to be mutual; I'm suggesting a chain) system, that relationship is doomed to fail.

Maybe a part of my friendship with them has indeed died. Whether or not it is being revived again, that we shall have to wait for time to finish its course before we return to this discourse again. But given my current cynicism, I suppose that part has died and like Ensor's painting of "Skeletons Warming Themselves" (1889), I suppose it's pointless to revive it/ for it to be revived.

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why do you think it was wrong?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why do you guys gang up on me?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why does it seem as though I'm punished for it?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why should I believe you and do what you say?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why should I listen to you and get convicted?

But that's what You did -- Convict.

I've been running away in rebellion against myself, against the leadership and against God. Ironically the more I run away from God, the more I ask God to bring me to a point of confrontation where I'm forced not to run. And boy, He did, only in a much gentler fashion, one that's worthy of a gentlemanly father.

You confronted me with songs in my playlist and the messages that seemed to respond to my desires, they were all signs of you pursuing me before I even wanted to pursue you. And now I recall you telling Nathanael that you saw him before he became your disciple. God, you've been pursuing me all this while and only now do I see your sweet, gentle and patient love for me.

Like a Father, you loved me despite my failures.

Like a teacher, you taught me many lessons.

Like a mentor, you guided my footsteps and counselled me.

Like a jealous lover, you pursued me and kept me.

Like God... no,

YOU ARE GOD.

As I walked up the hill this afternoon, I could not help but notice a strange sight in the distance. There it was in the distant sky, a dark cloud forming over the port's cranes and containers. The cloud quickly moved towards me, then above me; and right there I saw it collide with the white clouds. And then I realised that like mother nature's odd behaviour in the skies, my emotions and thoughts were scattered in my emotional sphere. To make matters worse, that sphere slowly drifted away from my rational, logical sphere.

I don't want to care.

I don't want to think anymore.

I really can't be bothered anymore.

I'm just irritated with this whole shit.

I'm not unapologetic.

I know it was a slip.

I know who I'm speaking to.

I want to be real.

I also don't want to lose standards.

But do I need to be penalised like that?

Is it that BIG A DEAL?

SCREW IT LA.

WOAH. The last time I wrote in here was what, a month ago? That's ludicrous. At this point if I were to apologise to my readers or worse, to my blog for 'neglecting' them/ it, I'd be insane. So in order to protect my sanity, I wouldn't.

In this past one month, much has taken place. Not just random hall activities, but also the consistant and constant mugging in the j-room. Urgh. Just Andrew, Ming En, Sheree and I in the room studying our asses off. Of course, in the case of Ming En, she's just perpetually counting and re-counting tee-shirt orders. But oh well, these people are my study buddies. (Come to think of it, I'm wondering what'd be going through my dense brain when I read this ten, twenty years down the road. Worse yet, what will my sons and grandsons think of me?)

So as I was saying the exams are over, well, since last Tuesday that is. It was no easy feat considering that my first day of exams saw me going to two different examination halls for two seperate content-heavy papers - LIT and 103. Urgh. By the time the day ended, my hand literally went limp. Urgh. When I reached back to my room, I was so tired I told myself I'd just chill on facebook then go straight to bed before hitting the books again the next day. But no, Clara messaged me online saying Great-grandaunt passed away the noon before. Naturally, I was shocked. I wasn't particularly close to her, but still I missed her company, especially the times when all of us would gather at her place to celebrate her birthdays. Oh yes, those were memorable times. But now, she's gone, thankfully to be with the Lord.

And all that happened two weeks ago. Fast forward to last week, I finished my paper on tuesday with 102. After which, I went home to prep myself up for the Amazing(race) Camp. Since that day, I haven't had a good night's rest. Always up in the morning just to get to some strange place, hoping that I could catch a quick shut-eye on the transport to and fro the place. That hope never really did come to pass. I remained awake for much of the journey, but then again, oh well. The fatigue's setting in now, thankfully after Church.

Everything above has been said and done.

Rather it is the life with you that my mind dwells upon

A memory. A distant memory. A recollection of events.

I need to re-evaluate all of that has transpired.

By then I fear I'd cringe at the outcome,

Or be in awe of His goodness and providence.

But really by then, I wonder where you'll even be?

i just want to say,

you've been a fantastic friend all these while. so take care kiddo; do find courage and solace in the Lord. you know you're not alone because you've got this pal watching your back, praying for you, and always ready to listen and comfort and support and encourage.

be strong my brother.

In His Most Amazing Love,

Darren.

"Cast your cares on the LORD

and He will sustain you;

He will never let the righteous fall."

(Psalms 55:22)

HOTBULBS' AWESOME NIGHT CYCLING

urgh, this is one of those rare moments i talk about a particular event per se in proper paragraphs, unlike past entries where barely half a sentence or a phrase took up one line. but to make it even more special than the past entries, i'm writing this entry Right After the event took place. so you can imagine a smell, dirty lil' boy - with washed hands on his keyboard, most certainly - typing this supposedly short/ long essay (of which he still cannot decide)

the whole event was so eventful, no pun intended, but it was sure packed with good memories. we recorded so many 'firsts' for our cell through this event. this event is in itself our FIRST EVENT for 2009. it is also the FIRST TIME we start an outing at midnight. it is also the FIRST TIME we have supper at supper time. it is also the FIRST TIME we did night cycling as an activity together. it is also the FIRST TIME we attempted such a feat. not to mention, it is the FIRST TIME (surprisingly) beatrice could join us for a physically-demanding activity.

everything was just awesome. it wasn't perfect - definitely not, but it worked out really well. a route was planned, but it was easily modified to suit our physical and emotional needs, especially towards daybreak.

nevertheless, it was really because of the Lord's blessings that led to such a successful event. and as such, His blessings we should and will never forget.

there were NO INJURIES! ('cept for a punc-zheh tyre)
there was NO RAIN! (despite seeing thunder since 8pm)
we had GREAT FELLOWSHIP
we had GREAT BONDING TIME
we had a SMASHING TIME.

for all these things and MORE, to God be the Glory.

to my dear hotbulbs: i do hope you guys really enjoyed yourself thoroughly throughout the event. aiyoh, butt pain sure kenna one; sore calf and thigh muscles also sure have one. come home smelly smelly, OF COURSE LA! but i think let's look beyond all this stuff, and really treasure the small moments of solitude we had with God, with ourselves and with each other. it's really awesome to see you guys talking and mingling even without the leaders (HMPH! RACHEL AND I WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR CONVO LA! HAHHAHA. DO I MAKE US SOUND DESPERATE?)

- but yea, can i safely say you guys had a smashing time just as i had?
- please sound out to rachel/ i if there were any problems that needed fixing or even improvements! that's how we all learn from each other ya?

awesome time spent overnight.
simply awesome.

The Equation

1 + 1 = 2

that's what they always say, don't they?

that's what we've been taught all along, haven't we?

all this while, all we've ever thought about was the '1' in the equation. what the numbers on the 'left side of the equal sign' are are all we ever think about, or at least that's what we've been learning all along - how it affects the equation; how it affects the 'right side of the equal sign'; how it affects the End.

but haven't we been selfish in forgetting about the '2'? have we thought whether it has even wanted to Be in the equation?

is it wrong for one to keep giving and giving and desire for an expected result? sure we do. we're the '1's aren't we?

after all i've gone through, i apologise for not thinking about how you felt. how it feels to be '2', how you probably felt you never wanted to be in the equation at all. how this equation finally ended nullified; how it ended void; how it ended up being a ZERO.

should i give up or should i just keep chasing pavements;

even if it leads nowhere.

it Would be a waste, even if i knew my place

should i leave it there?

i answer, yes. i should.

i guess that's probably the reason why i'm remaining passive about certain things. sure enough, i don't close myself to the world, but that doesn't give me any more of a reason to be seeking actively.

but i won't even ask you to stay. in spite of saying that, this i must say - there's something about you that keeps me going on, and i'm not even sorry about it.

i've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show

& i thought being strong meant never losing your self-control

but i'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain

to hell with my pride, let it fall like rain

tonight i wanna cry.

maybe keith was right along.

they say people grow with time

inevitably, they change too

the times spent in classic togetherness

now seems distant, almost a memory

we can never go back to those times

or can we?

expectations are wings that help us to soar

but they can also be weights that pull us down

together we came into this world

but look at you! you've grown so tall

i've forgotten how you were

only the memories remain

and after all this while i ask myself

do i really know you?

then again,

do you really know me?