trailer park

Last and First

2005-06-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

I've decided to move. Will be at Livejournal now. I know this is a hassle, but if you want a link, let me know and I might forward it to you. Otherwise, this is goodbye.

♥

Him and Her

2005-05-18T23:29:00.000-07:00

His arms won’t fold. Like a lovesick teenager he waited outside, under her room window. Seeing all that is happening on the inside, he remained uninvited. He counted the days he picked lice from her hair and covered her in his garments in hopes that she might remember them too. He had many piercings, each to remind him of how he loved her. Running to her, he slipped, fell and bruised himself. Bystanders made a mockery of his unrequited love as though loving is a shame, but he didn’t mind so long he got a little closer to her. He could sing too, mostly to serenade her to sleep and rest. He remembered the day their eyes met, when she thought she saw the whole world in his eyes.
But she traded his eyes for marbles.
Gave herself away to lovers less wild.
Safely padded playgrounds.
A missing shoe not found.

I don't like it hard-boiled

2005-05-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

Now playing: AIR Highschool Lover

I'm extremely hungry right now, but I think I will starve myself longer. Above is a few Polaroid shots of the menagerie at home—my dog (Mia), my cat (Spud) and myself. Recently I received an email from my ex-colleague and maybe it’s just me, but every time she says something, I find it hard to take it in the right manner. I told her about where I am currently working and her response was something along this line: designers who work in church are inexperienced or not good enough and when others don’t like their work, they feel disappointed and return to the “real” working world.

I don’t get it. It’s the same thing when people mention “charity”—people would easily check their cupboard for old clothes and used toys to give away. “Charity” no longer denotes love but a social organization or a benevolent act. And it’s an assemblage many have placed church—it’s where you give your leftovers—from leftover effort, time to goods.

What’s so bleeding real about the “real” working world anyway? I was there and I ate instant noodles most of the time with a bottle of expired Tabasco sauce as extra flavoring when my taste buds decided to take a day off. The only place I could find as a sanctuary in the scrubbed-minimalist design house was the toilet. The uncomfortable kerning with a difference of 0.1px and the inconsistent length of the crop marks bogged everyone down. Because we have 24 hours to spend, we worked until 2am. Now, was that fun or what?

Ok. I really have to eat now.

I could drive with the camera (half serious)

2005-04-28T23:42:00.000-07:00

Hello Self,
I hope you are well today. You kissed your cat so much it is no longer something you do in your free time like a hobby anymore. You love sniffing shampoo bottles but you love washing your hair even more. There are days you do and say things without thinking, but maybe this time you should stop kicking yourself about it. You dream so much about backpacking around Europe, why don’t you do it? You’ve always wanted to ballet ever since you saw Swan Lake, but if you start now, would people stare at you? You drank some of the Baileys but the other 70% still sits in the fridge, if you drink more are you afraid to be a drunkard? Do you remember how the raw cut grass felt between your toes when you used walk barefoot in the garden?
So, while you chew on those deep thoughts, here are some things I want in life:
1. Hugs Not Drugs tee
2. Ballet shoes
3. Leaf patterned duvets
4. Run a busy shop like this
5. Get this lousy song out of your head
6. Find a man like him
7. Have a real backyard
8. And this (when you really do! Or for a honeymoon—refer to no. 6)
X and Os,
Me

Thundered

2005-04-20T12:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning a man said that God never lets you go away hungry. But I left the place with a deeper cave in my insides—hollowed, echoing the unmet Desire. I suppose I’m the annoying beggar who is desperate for the clanging sound of coins against aluminum and I can never have enough. Well, not enough to last through the night. I don’t know if I’d ever be satisfied but this is when I’m most awake. He left me hungry for more of Him.

Apart from my obscene appetite, I’ve been a weedy klutz.

(un)made

2005-04-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

He said it didn’t matter, but will you hurt yourself for not living they way legends have?
He lets you go hunting with an empty barrel and an army of flies.
Darling, the man is a toothache.
Stones don’t evolve.

1989

2005-04-12T22:08:00.000-07:00

I'm the girl on the left and on the right is my sister. This was most probably shot at the end of the eighties. We were six at that time.

A few nights ago my sister and I recounted our blithe days when 5:30pm meant cartoon time and our hobbies included catching grasshoppers just to see them cough up a dark red fluid. I'm munching on a spoonful of bryani rice with raisins and curry as I'm writing this. There’s no better way to recount the good old days over dinner—well, except that I'm alone in my room with Chan Marshall in my speakers.

I remember the days when we would tell each other stories while we lie on our beds. We would make up stories that were so believable, I was moved to tears (this was regarding a story of a lovelorn girl). And then there were nights when we would be pseudo-philosophers discussing the edge of the universe, that if we ever reach the end, we might find an invisible wall. And that the whole universe is one big claustrophobic mess.

Jumping off the school bus, we would push our worn and tired Beauty and the Beast video into the mouth of the VHS player – until one day we finally let it play past the credits and discovered that the cartoon was taped over a porn video. But we were too young to understand. Until now I can’t fully remember what I saw, but it did look strange.

I've always liked my coffee shaken, not stirred. And I like my Milo lumpy with bits of chocolate floating with the foam. There were boring days when I would invite my sister to join me on my Milo tin excursion (armed with a spoon) and a soy sauce drinking session in front of the tube. When my parents finally bought Bovril, our fingers started to look like they belong to a mechanic’s, with brown greasy stains.

I also remember being kicked out of the house. I had nowhere to go, so I spied my family having dinner. My mother thought I would end up a vagabond and my father warned me if I don’t study I would start washing dishes at the nearest kopitiam. Pictures of my parents now sit above the stack of CDs. They were in their courting stage; my dad is on a horse, wearing a shirt that says “Try Me” and my mom is all Venus-like with hair sweeping her face. Tomorrow is her birthday.

handsomeboymodelingschool

2005-04-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

Now playing: Johnny Cash Hurt

Been terribly busy these past few days. Working on something that is yet to come to pass. Above is my new love, he’s a purr machine and for obvious reasons, he’s dubbed the new Handsome Boy Modeling School. He was saved from the streets and a few scavenging crows to a life of free cuddles and warm milk. He sleeps on my chest and then purrs like no other engine I know. I’m in love.

I call him Spud, after a character from a book I like very much and also because they both find themselves with excrement in their beds. Wanted to call him Renton or Sick Boy but found them too long to call in one breath. He was de-wormed and about 12 rubber band-like worms came out from his behind.

Cats are really a misunderstood bunch. One cannot talk about a cat without comparing it to a dog, yet such comparison doesn’t do either party justice. You might as well compare an apple to an orange, after all aren’t they both fruits? Cats are like who we really are but dogs are what we’d like to be. They say cats are arrogant, sovereign and unfaithful. Dogs on the other hand, are faithful, devoted and consistent. I like dogs but it’s the cat that I can relate to personally. I know I want to be devoted but I also know I’m a selfish girl who thinks she’s self-sufficient (sometimes) and is battling with her inconsistencies (sometimes).

Among the other things that happened: a monkey tried to hump a cat, Lock and Barrel (Stock died) found two new aquarium mates and moved into a posh tank, made friends with a certain cat-killer, and the tree outside looks good with fat rain plummeting down on its leaves.

All those stars drip down like butter, in promises, a sea.

love in every page

2005-03-26T19:23:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Porcelain Pick Up Sticks and my pickle voice

People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard not to. I have a tendency to pick up books with pretty covers and nicely designed jackets, but I very much prefer paperback to hardcover books. I like my books weathered and mobile. It is obvious that books with attractive covers have a higher chance of being picked up despite one not knowing its contents. The fact that it was picked up says a lot.

Maybe men and women are like books. There are some books that look bad on the outside but we pick it up anyway because of its reputation (of being a “classic”)... and then we find ourselves hanging on its every word and every full stop calls us to read on. When we close the book, the cover doesn’t seem to bother us any more than our hole infested socks that give our feet a peepshow effect. Our eyes become accustomed to its curves and lines, mismatched typefaces and gaudy colors.

On the flipside, there are also books that look too good for its own good. Reading past chapter one, you convince yourself that it’s still worth reading because you’ve paid so much for it and perhaps the good part is coming (heck, so much time was put into creating a beautiful cover – it better be good!). When you reach mid chapter two, you give yourself excuses for doing the laundry and walking the dog instead of reading. And from here it all goes downhill.

When a man or woman is taken, we say that s/he is “off the shelf.” Some people pick up a book only to read the ending. The book goes back on the shelf if the ending is undesirable. They pick up a book to feel better about themselves, whether in a feel good manner or the prideful been-there-done-that. But I guess love is a book you cannot know the ending of (well, not fully) until you take off your clothes and jump into the river of faith - in shameless humility and resoluteness. And maybe there is no such thing as an ugly book and a badly written book, only bad readers.

Joyride

2005-03-22T22:46:00.000-08:00

Orange peel skin. Piano key teeth. Chopstick fingers. Almond shaped eyes. Garlic breath. Wire hair. Sentimental nut.

I used to dream a lot in technicolor is better than black and white they say wounds won’t heal over night is the best time for joyriding aimless on the highway or your way is the only way to hard to live without fear and loathing the mess I made with my own hands are yours to hold me and you and I can see the sun rising waters calm down below the hill I stand barefoot toes touching sinking sand castles are not meant to last I heard you say you are my foundation of truth is I need you can take the wheel and we can drive fast going no one knows where coffee breath exists and all my bitten nails have gone.

Paper Tiger

2005-03-21T23:52:00.000-08:00

I soon found out that not reading the newspapers can be a bad thing. I went to Ikea wanting to get fat with their Swedish meatballs with that lovely lingonberry jam and brown sauce, but they were closed. I was sad. I was sad for them too... it was doing so well, people who don’t necessarily go there to shop would inevitably sit and chow down something. Something good. Making them meatballs at home is never the same. If you can cook them like Ikea, call me!

Later I headed to Ikano for some Taiwanese beef noodle. I guess I was hungry for red meat. I’m lacking in iron these days - which explains the constant cramps. I saw some familiar faces and two young rowdy tigers. They had beady eyes and fat fluffy paws with claws that won’t retract.

I found a spiffy mustard yellow shirt with a brown skull on it. The skull had heart-shaped eye sockets. I stood in the fitting room for a long time deciding if I should get it. Much of the reasoning stemmed from other people’s religious notions. I decided that people spend too much time being concerned over what others are wearing instead of what’s really important. They say it’s really important how you carry yourself... but it’s worse to not carry yourself. I don’t have to justify it. I got the shirt.

I also saw shirts with Geoff McFetridge and Ryan McGiness’ work printed on. But Geoff’s work with Stussy still has a special place with me.

Red Wings

2005-03-16T19:12:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Beck Mexico
Above: Managed to steal a shot of the stage. Knock out, huh?

Stuff I did so far in a few days:

+ Saw The Sound of Music, some of the sets are overly repeated. And the guy who played Captain von Trapp couldn’t act and his voice wasn’t any better. I also saw a real Nazi flag for the first time in my life. I grabbed my sister when they flew the almost 2-storey high flag. What they say is true; the flag does have a hypnotic effect.
+ Hugged a close friend who came back from afar.
+ Fed many mosquitoes.
+ Wasted a lot of time.
+ Didn’t touch the newspapers for more than 3 days.

And stuff I want to do:

+ Go to the toilet now!
+ Eat some Vietnamese later.
+ Spend quality time.
+ Not touch the newspaper for more days. It’s depressing.

Fireflies

2005-03-13T18:19:00.000-08:00

We took a very silent boat to the river and the magroves in darkness. A farmer burnt his crops and left us with smelly hair and a fog filled night.

The stars
fell among
the mangroves.

It was better than
f a i r y l i g h t s .

I dipped my fingers in the water and imagined being in Vietnam...
because it really felt like I was in
another
place and time.

Click here to view pictures from Kuala Selangor (and a curious outlandish cat with two different colored eyes).

Four Eyes

2005-03-12T00:36:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Ryan Adams Desire

Above is a set of compiled images taken with a four-eyed camera with a cord, without a viewfinder. A freaked out cat, my feet on the beach, a grumpy dwarf and our only star.

I was browsing online and somehow I came upon my old blog in Xanga. Below is my last entry in my previous blog, excerpted from the Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. I know it’s long, but this is something close to my heart. Read if you care.

Imagine that Jesus is calling you today. He extends a second invitation - to accept His Father's love. And maybe you answer, “Oh, I know that. It’s old hat. I’ve come to this book seeking an insight in a fit of fervor. I’m not red-hot, wide-open. I’ll listen to anything you have to say, so go ahead, dazzle me. Lay a new word on me. I know the old one.”And God answers “That’s what you do not understand. I am God not man. You tell others about Me – that I am a loving God. Your words are glib. My words are written in the blood of My only Son. The next time you preach about My love with such obnoxious familiarity, I may come and blow your whole prayer meeting apart. When you come to Me with studied professionalism, I will expose you as a rank amateur. When you try to convince others that you understand what you are talking about, I will tell you to shut up and fall flat on your face. You claim you know I love you:

“Did you know that every time you tell Me you love Me, I say thank you?“When your son comes to you asking, ‘Do you like Susan more ‘cause she skates better and she’s a girl?’ are you grieved and saddened over your child’s lack of trust? Do you know that you do the same to Me?

“Do you claim to know what we shared when Jesus withdrew to a deserted place or spent the night on a hillside alone with Me? Do you know from where the inspiration to wash the feet of the twelve came? Do you understand that, motivated by love alone, your God became your slave in the Upper Room?

“Were you grieved by the divine command to Abraham that he lay his only begotten Isaac on Mount Moriah? Were you relieved when the angel intervened, Abraham’s hand was stayed, and the sacrifice was not carried out? Have you forgotten that on Good Friday no angel intervened? That sacrifice was carried out, and it was My heart that was broken.

“Are you aware that I had to raise Jesus from the dead on Easter morning because My love is everlasting? Are you serenely confident that I will raise you too, My adopted child?”

Happy early Easter

<3

Without Arms

2005-03-09T22:30:00.000-08:00

Now playing: The sound of the TV downstairs and the fan above my head and the constant but quiet hum from my computer.

I found these kittens sometime ago along the back alley of my house. I wanted to steal them but I thought about the mother cat at the back. I found the kitten on the left to be hilarious, its posture is so adorable... I like it when cats do the stretch. I miss the old days when my former house had so many strays... but I think I miss my late cat more. When I got it, I assumed it was a female and called her Pearl - only to realize that it was a “he.” But I still like calling him “her.” And until now, I’d like to think that I'm not wrong.

I love her long straight tail and pink pillow paws. I think she misses my kaya bread too.

Was wondering; the older we grow, do we ultimately get wiser? Didn’t we love more freely when we were younger? Weren’t we less guarded and more vulnerable? Do we now think about financial status, dressing, intellect, race and religion? Can we even love unconditionally?

Lazy Susan

2005-03-06T20:14:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Sigur Rós Olsen Olsen

My brother was in my room pulling out my Odelay vinyl. I took pictures of him right after he came out of the toilet - butt naked. But to some people’s disappointment, I won’t be posting them anywhere here. I’ll be emailing it to my parents for fun. But it’s cool that he’s unafraid about being nude... maybe he hasn’t come to the point of “shame.” He’s 12 this year and he has no problem walking around the house in the nude. But I’m sure he’d be more guarded soon... and then, I’ll show him pictures of how he brave he was. Just to remind him.

My day at the children’s center was fun, as always. We brought handmade batu serembans for them to play with. It was somewhat nostalgic to join in the game... the girls had to teach me the steps all over again. Then someone brought out a handphone and quickly enough, all the kids abandoned their 5 stones for LCD screens. Children these days probably have short attention span... they are not as easily impressed anymore. They have seen the fastest and smallest, sleekest and shiniest. If they have not experienced, they would have seen what it is like to live a handpicked life. Anything less is literally less. The quality of living has improved but people are not getting any better... we still get bothered by slow service and our patience level is running low. We get pissed off just because.

On my way to the hairdresser’s a couple of hours ago, I saw an Indian and Chinese kid playing a yellow kite with printed killer whales. It looked a bit twisted - in a good way. I remembered my days when I played with my friend under the durian tree. We never thought the fruits could fall.

Perhaps, settling for less means holding out for something more. We’re never rich by what we hold in our hands but what we keep in our hearts.

(Lazy Susan is stenciled on an old cloth)

Blow Bubbles

2005-03-04T01:07:00.000-08:00

Was playing: Cat Power You are Free

It’s quiet now.

{ I <3 C a t P o w e r }

I’m quite obsessed over lips and eyes and bubbles these days. Have not been taking photos lately... I’ve been busy and somehow, doodling seems to be instantaneous. Well, not always. Sepet was good... I might watch it again for the sake of supporting it. It reminded me of my primary school days when I had a crush on this Malay boy.

Writing about it now feels funny after so many years. He was my class partner that time and he gave me his house number. So one evening after watching my 5:30pm cartoon, I called him. To my relieve, his sister picked up the phone and said he had gone out to play football. So I left my phone number with her and asked her to tell him to call me back - I gave her a false name. After hanging up, I snapped back into reality and kicked myself for being silly. Eventually he called back looking for someone who doesn’t really exist. And I did all that just to hear his voice.

I think I was 8. Good memories.

My sister’s friend looked funny as usual in Sepet... and I thought he was promoting himself in his first scene where he wore a shirt with frogs on it. He’s really a John Woo fanatic.

granny-is-a-woman

2005-02-27T16:22:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Pedro the Lion June 18 1976

Here are a few things I’d like to have/do:

+ A soft-serve ice-cream maker
+ A sparkly globe (the kind you buy from gift shops - something tourist-sy that I never get to do)
+ An iPod
+ Learn to make cream chowder
+ Paint my room
+ Cut my nails
+ Frame up some drawings
+ Watch The Motorcycle Diaries one of these days
+ Catch Sepet with some friends
+ Buy Derek Webb’s CD
+ Get my specs and contact lenses from the shop
+ Repaint my ugly car
+ A light brown Chihuahua puppy
+ A grey tabby kitten
+ Finish reading Heavier than Heaven and On the Road
+ Return my mom’s loan
+ Save more money
+ Email some friends
+ Play my dusty guitar
+ Trim my hair
+ Learn to smile more, sincerely
+ Listen better
+ Fall in love
+ Bake a cake
+ Learn to clap in beat
+ Sleep more

No, this is not some kind of new year’s resolution crap.

This is <3

2005-02-24T19:14:00.000-08:00

Now playing: PJ Harvey The Desperate Kingdom of Love

We were walking along that same road hand in hand. Rabbit and Moose were there as well. We had sand between our toes and hoofs and paws. Barefoot is the way to go when the grass is raw. They got into my car and we wound our windows all the way down. Rabbit sang sad songs to a happy tune. I had my harmonica wedged between my lips as I tried to steer the wheel. He told me I look beautiful when I don’t color-coordinate. Half-painted toenails and jam-stained dress. It was almost dusk, light gave way to darkness. A day is like a rainbow... the sky morphs from yellow and orange to blue and violet. But I like black the best, with speckles of dandruff-like stars.

We sang out of tune. We ate air. He combed my hair and I washed his feet. Moose discarded her color contact lenses. Rabbit took off her fake ears to reveal fox ears.

If only all these took place.

Underwater

2005-02-21T00:13:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Over the Rhine Born

Quiet music should be played loud.

I should be sleeping but I got a lasso that won’t seem to catch the thoughts that are floating above my head. My eyes were fixed on the telly – it’s probably their familiar friend. I saw soldiers at war, faces with caked blood. Then something exploded, leaving the sky with falling feathers. It looked heavenly and all too surreal. Misery gave way to bliss, but it was subliminal. Feathers were used to fill soldiers’ vests. Bits and pieces of body parts then hit them from the sky.

Some people scare me. By that I don’t mean the sick and the perverted. Have you ever felt intimidated by people who have it all together, people who speak of angels and demons and the end? I recently read a mail from a friend who spoke of such things. I don’t know what it is that made me feel uncomfortable, but maybe I’m not used to it. I can’t relate to her as much anymore. Maybe it’s the fear in me... to be reminded of the standard that I have not met. And how far away I am.

So put me in the river and let me say I do. My water will be turned to wine. If you could love me as a wife and for my wedding gift, your life. Should that be all I’d ever need or is there more I’m looking for?

Sorry, my thoughts are sporadic at the moment.

Docile Fun

2005-02-18T14:27:00.000-08:00

Now playing: R.E.M. Sweetness Follows

It was 11pm when my brother came into my room. He had his light blue matching pajamas on with loads of questions on his tongue. About two years ago, I told him about a Person who loves him regardless and a dotting Father who watches over him as he sleeps. It was nothing of the salesman strategy sort of thing (or evangelism, as some people call it). He asked me and I told him. He now relates himself as Christ’s.

Last night he spoke about a bully who ridiculed his reason for having this hope. The bully also relates himself as Christ’s. As my brother shared, he could not stop himself from crying. I saw a boy who tried to stop the Niagara Falls – to no avail. He was besieged by his own tears. The “know-it-all,” in my brother’s own words, said that my brother is not a Christian because my family does not go to church and my parents are agnostics. The “know-it-all” laughed at my brother’s attempts at self-defense. My heart sank... to hear persecution out of the lips of those who proudly dangle a cross from their necks. Like a key in between the shoulders, doesn’t it tug the heart?

At times, my brother is rude and proud. Yet behind that façade, that stung him bad. I don’t suppose the other kid knows any better. It’s like snake venom, the same can kill and save a man.

*The above picture is my current desktop image: a mix of images from Dana Carlson, Fake Cake, Holga and theclickproject.*

Untitled

2005-02-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Elliott Smith Twilight

This picture was taken some time ago when I was in KL. This was how they used to do it, outdoors with a makeshift signboard. The barber later chased my friends and me away because he thought we were disturbing his customer with our cameras. At least I stole a shot. I was happy. My grandfather died of a heart attack under the razor many years ago. I never knew him and he never cradled me.

These days the sun beats callously down as though a little drizzle is blasphemous. I saw a movie a week ago and it reminded me of my suicidal tendencies and all my self-destructive nature. But that was years ago. I’d like to think I’m ok but not “better” now. A friend was commenting that people who chose to end their own lives were cowards who wanted the easy way out. I don’t know, it sounds like a common theory but common sense is not always common. When cut myself at 11, how much did I know about life to choose cowardice? Why is it brave to go on living when all you do is turn your back on others and let out a spineless laugh?

It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Easier said than done. When it’s a tunnel at the end of the light for you, pulling the plug or trigger or raising the razor becomes more appealing than ever. I’m not advocating suicide, but it’s sad to see the talk of suicide shunned especially by those who are supposedly “dead to their old self.” It’s a myth that talking about suicide will lead to a suicide. Most attempts were cries for help that ended up fatal.

And it would be a pleasant and welcoming surprise to see Kurt Cobain in heaven (he was a baptized Christian but in the words of others, “he backslided.”). No, I don’t believe that when a Christian commits suicide (for whatever reason), s/he goes to hell. I believe in His mercy and compassion. Nothing can snatch you out of His hands – not even you or your suicide (John 10:28 and Romans 8:38-39). The “born again” ought to be the ones who understand death better than the macabre worshippers do. But speech loses its potency when the “born again” lives like s/he never died. It is by the losing of your life that you begin to live.

“That’s how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I’d sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.”
- your Maker, Isaiah 43:4 (Msg)

Peace, love and empathy.

Communist Note

2005-02-08T14:21:00.000-08:00

Today is the eve of the Chinese New Year. The duck has been prepared and its sauce, drained. The chicken is ready for the boiling water and I peeled the pummelo. My dad brought home a few boxes of wine and liquor. I got myself Baileys. I now drink it from a 30 year-old cup, which makes Irish cream ever more appealing.

I had my daily dose of cook shows. Kylie Kwan was testing my patience with her "caramelized" everything. Am thinking of what to wear tomorrow that won't make my grandma feel like I'm such a drab... can I wear anything not red?

Happy Chinese New Year, people. Start the fireworks. Beat the drums.

Oyster

2005-01-30T01:22:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Wilco Theologians

I was at the children's center today. I can't really remember all of their names, only the faces. The place was filled with hopeful eyes... eyes belonging to children who came from abusive homes. When we reached the center, I could see that this is run-in-the-mill to them. Well-meaning people have come and gone. The kids weren't bothered about not recalling our names.

We played games, sang songs, danced, ate chocolates and took pictures. None of these are new either. I half expect them to not expect us to return. But we want to. I know I want to commit to this. When they laughed and giggled, they gave no hint of the home they came from. When I joined in and roughed it out, I gave no hint of self-doubt. For a while, our yesterdays didn't matter as much as the present. For a moment, the world really did seem like our oyster.

I think that they've ministered to me more than I did to them. We will be returning next Saturday evening. As for now, I need a shower and a good rest for these tired bones.

Birds and Fishes

2005-01-27T10:12:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Iron and Wine Lion's Mane

Like placing birds in cages, I have placed 3 gold fishes in a small bowl. Maybe guilt would sneak up to me soon.

"Give me the mystery of joy in reading poetry for 10 people at a house. Or the mystery of having joy in washing dishes all day long. Or the mystery of joy in being unrecognized, underprivelaged, and poor. Give me the mystery of joy in being loved by only one. Give me that. Such things are indeed a mystery. But through Christ Jesus it is possible. I have tasted it some. Mowing the lawn and just wanting to be nowhere else in the world doing anything but that. Sitting with friends and wanting to be nowhere else with no one else but them. Sanding a shelf and then staining it and wanting to do nothing else. Praying and wanting to just pray more. I have tasted it."
- Bradley Hathaway

Listen to his spoken words here.

Cracked

2005-01-24T22:28:00.000-08:00

Frustrated fireworks
and a tongue which weights a ton
I’m almost gone
I see myself in the eyes of a murderer
I’ve held hands with a thief
Father says he sees me now
better than before
better than the days when
I had my hair in place
and breath in check
Father says he sees me now
prettier than before
with hands full of wasted matches

shall I raise the pale faceless flag now?

Wild Taming

2005-01-18T14:20:00.000-08:00

Above: A photograph by Katharina Hesse in Edit. This picture was taken from the now defunct Scream Bar in Beijing.

Some youths find a reason to rebel. Some give in to the system. People assume to rebel is to create anarchy and it generates a fume of negativity. But I believe that rebelling and conforming are more similar than we think. Whenever we choose to revolt against a belief, we are actually conforming to another belief - by choice, whether subconsciously or not.

Perhaps our youths need a bigger revolt. We need to forget about petty revolts like driving past the red light. And when we see a man in pain, we need to remember that not doing anything is still a choice. We need to realize that every time you hold a bottle of alcohol to your lips, you are making a waking choice. We don't make choices after we sleep and before we wake up.

There are some things we should defy and there are some worth yielding to.

Lovestruck

2005-01-13T23:47:00.000-08:00

I'm not listening to any music right now. Silence feels good when you know you are not alone... especially when you have a Man who numbers your every hair and runs to you. He holds your hand like you are a part of him. Your tongue drips in adoration and love songs. He knows you better than you know the back of your palm. And when the valley sings like an empty parking lot, he gives you flowers in winter.

You know you are falling more in love with him when you are a living dead.

Twenty-sixth

2004-12-28T17:39:00.000-08:00

Was watching the news today and the death toll rose to 23 000 people dead. From the island of Sumatra to the coasts of Malaysia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Maldives and Somalia the tsunami hit unlikely places. Earthquakes are not geographically confined anymore, they travel on waves. It scares me to look at the beach in Penang where my friends and I canoed together not too long ago. It is now ravaged with canoes overturned and in ruin. It’s really a mess. It looks as though a giant sadistically thumped his foot down in Indonesia just to make a “little” ripple in the water as people like toy soldiers were carried and tossed by the current’s desire.

Dead bodies pile by the hundreds as the survivors struggle to find dry ground in which to burry the dead. Death is literally in the air as the foul stench of decay wraps the earth under the humid weather. I don’t know when the tears in Sri Lanka will dry but it’s probably still flowing. People are comparing death tolls in countries like stock market. In war, right and wrong becomes gray especially if you hold a rifle in your hands and your mission is to annihilate your “enemy” who bleeds and hurts like you do (murder becomes a necessary option for peace). But when natural disasters strike, we become “brothers” for a while as we give the sky a bitter gaze.

We blame God for allowing (or willing) calamities to happen. Nature becomes God’s mistake and we cast Him the role of the sadistic giant with a row with men. He now looks like a petty bookkeeper who keeps tabs on all the good and misdeeds you and I make (not unlike Santa). In the hospital today, a Christian told my grandma that this happened because God is punishing the people and my unsaved grandma responded, “If God is punishing people, then He’s punishing the wrong people because innocent people are dying while the evil go on living.” I didn’t say a thing although in my heart I knew neither was correct. I didn’t know how to tell my grandma that if God were to wipe out evil today, that would include her as well. And I can’t tell the Christian that God does not always treat us as our sins deserve and repay us for our iniquities (Psalm 103:10) because I wasn’t there. Yet I could not explain why it happened.

People talk about hell as though God enjoys sending people there. In fact, He doesn’t even do that. We do that to ourselves. God has done all so we could be forgiven, redeemed and cleansed for heaven. We need only to receive this gift of life. Hell looks more appealing when heaven is a room filled with saints with ill-fitting halos. But neither is right. Hell is really a place remote of God’s presence, where God is absent and is everything God is not. No one on earth have actually known and understood the saying “hell on earth.” The sexually abused child and the dying POW have only experienced a glimpse of hell because the Lord was there with them in the suffering. As long as there is still another waking moment for one to make a decision, He will not allow us to face true hell and utter loneliness.

I don’t even know if it’s ironic or appropriate that the earth trembled after Christmas day. After all, the earth did move when God dealt with evil on Calvary and it tore the veil in the Temple (Matthew 27:51). It does not take a priest to face God when a sinner could do the same. While man feels only his own pain and empathy for another, God feels every pain and suffering as His own. Yet all talk about God is useless when one does not do anything about what one sees.

Socks Rock

2004-12-24T15:52:00.000-08:00

Found this really spiffy purple glittery socks. Tonight's going to be a full night of carols, drinks and food!

MERRY CHRISTMAS <3

XO

Fool

2004-12-23T15:30:00.000-08:00

Now playing: U2 One Step Closer

My ex-colleague told me, "You got to be realistic." By that she meant that I should forget doing things that make me happy and things that make me look like a "fool." People place awards and trophies as mantelpieces or if you're Chinese, they would be proudly displayed above the piano (you must always have a piano). Achievement is measured by the gold and silver, your bank account and your titles. An annual family trip to the Swiss Alps is an achievement.

In my line of work, designers want to work for the best companies and biggest clients. Everything is about enhancing your portfolio so you would get ahead in the game. And you would go to parties you naturally wouldn't care about just to get contacts. You pretend to be chummy with someone you have only met for 15 minutes and you namedrop your way to the top. So maybe I am a fool to leave my company. I'm never that ambitious anyway.

I don't have any achievements that you would be bowled over. I find pleasure in talking to someone and seeing someone's life change. Maybe I am unrealistic. Or maybe to me this is reality. My Reality is He who says that when all things fall away, His Word remains. If I can't take my degree with me into eternity, it can't be very real after all. So maybe I'm His fool.

On another note, my grandma's diagnosed with her fourth cancer in 15 years. It's her nose this time. She's not saved... yet. Those are her legs in that picture. She recounts eating tapioca leaves while shells burst above ground during the second World War. It's my brother's birthday today and the weather is too hot.

x'mas

2004-12-21T19:27:00.000-08:00

Now playing: Jeff Buckley Lilac Wine

Honestly, I’m not a big fan of Christmas music. It makes it even more apparent that Christmas is just another day in the calendar and a mere holiday. I could never relate to the “Christmas Spirit” (so stone me). Every year, families put up a tree and radio stations play a round of Christmas songs and carols. The decorations get their ritual dusting and fairy lights are popular again. And who can forget Santa?

But thankfully, Santa ain’t so popular here in this part of the world. Santa would melt under this weather. His reindeers would cease to lift to the night sky. Besides, houses here do not have chimneys and Santa would be forced to make a more legit entrance. In where I live, Santa is just a festive mascot. We don’t believe in him because he never visited.

I don’t know if we believe in anything more either. Christmas in the tropics is a “white man’s holiday.” We have never seen a white Christmas... maybe that’s an oxymoron (heck, Christmas is white). People talk about the Christmas spirit as though it’s blasphemous to feel sad. While folks are warmed up in the presence of family, friends and saints, the Reason for Christmas sits by the street in a card box home. He drinks cold soup from a rusted tin can as he holds on to his tattered blanket like his dear life.

Homosexuals and the drug addled don’t belong with the crowd. Reason was not very popular with the crowd as well and folks change loyalties like dirty laundry. This Christmas we have rehashed that old story.

Backsliding

2004-12-17T19:08:00.000-08:00

I’ve been hearing a lot of this “backsliding” word these days, or maybe it’s the people around me. If you are among non-believers, the word seems a little aloof but if you are among Christians, that word welcomes either a grave head-nodding response or heads shaking in disappointment. I don’t know which is better. Should there be a better way to respond to that word?

Many people have this notion that when you’ve backslidden, you have fallen from grace. The other day as I was watching MTV (what was I thinking?), I saw Avril Lavigne’s video for Nobody’s Home and she sang about a girl who is alone and is “losing her faith, falling from grace.” I found it rather ironic. Christians who wave their ticket to heaven up in the air have a tendency to look up and not look at where they’ve been standing on. But they are not to be condemned. It reminds me of Peter; before he was a rock he was sifting sand. And it was the rock who denied the Lord three times. It was also the same rock who jumped into the sea in the nude to be with the Lord. But it was by grace that he was called again.

The grace received is not the same grace kept and dispensed. Backsliding is never falling from grace... we fall from grace only when we think that we got this far because we have been “good” Christians and have been doing church. It is when we return to doing and earning God’s approval that we have fallen from grace (Galatians 5:4). In fact, grace is found where it is most undeserved... it’s so obvious but we tend to forget that. Grace fails to be grace when we are able to earn it. Perhaps we have also “played God” every time we pity our poor brother or sister who is dealing with depression or addiction. We feel sorry for their souls not because we love them but because they’re going to hell. We call down judgment and lightning when we see a pastor leaving his office for good. We plaster a smile on our faces despite the war raging on our insides. We fear that one day we might be “found out” because we don’t want to be like those who “backslide.”

True backsliding is not found in money, sex, drugs, booze and the other stereotypes but in what they represent; power, manipulation, fear, idolatry and the need for approval. And all these find their way into the pews and sometimes behind the pulpit rather easily. One does not need to leave church to embrace the world when the world is in the church. It’s better to “backslide” than to fall from grace. Grace for one who sins like a broken record never runs dry but grace is far from one who doesn’t think he needs to be forgiven.