back to church?

as i was telling tim neo, it’s a miracle in itself that i got up for church, so don’t complain.

i’ve probably never had such a smooth journey anywhere, at least for a long time now. the minutes ticked by a little slower, my walk was relaxed despite having only an hour’s sleep, and the tram showed up just when i arrived at the stop. i had my ’stay awake’ kit accumulated over the week unwittingly, my table littered with various assortments of things i would usually bring to church. I dumped into my bag sour cream pringles for breakfast, warheads and tic tacs in case i needed the sweet and sour punch, water bottle, a notebook and pen and my rhinestone-studded bible. haha.

reach community church was small. it was different from the massive scale of FCBC, everybody was a little more off-key, the worship team was straining their vocals a little bit too much. in FCBC everything had to be top-notch, perfect. and that’s why we forget that in the first place, if one is perfect one doesn’t need God.

somehow i think that whatever has happened through the week was cumulative, finally amounting to the tears of desperation i thought i will never let out again. as i felt overwhelmed in God’s presence, for once, feeling the surest He was there and listening, i told Him, i hate that person. i want to kill him. i can never forgive him. God no, i cannot have faith and then have You bastard us again when we are not looking. and You always know when we are not, You have the greatest advantage.

it’s not the same but somehow my thoughts go back to the story of Abraham, whom God has tested by asking him to sacrifice his son, Issac. Just as Abraham is about the stab his own flesh blood, God tells him to stop and says, now you have proven your faith and how much you love Me, like a psycho possessive Angelina Jolie. the NIV bible says, “now i know that you fear God”. tand He keeps pushing it, just to see how far you’ll go. while some people hang on, others snap and are possibly filtered from heaven. then what?

i know that i’m not the most praiseworthy person, and i have made a shitload of the worse decisions. but before you shove us into the pits it’ll just feel a lot more reassuring if You’ll at least show us a rope, instead of me hoping and praying that whatever has happened is already the worse that can happen. dear God, don’t forget that you’re Jesus too.

when is it ok to have sex in asian dramas?

1. when one is victimised.
2. when it is by accident.
3. (most importantly) when it forces marriage upon two people i.e. by accident.
4. when one is dying.

not that i’m complaining about popular asian dramas putting a stopper on acceptable morality, but it’s just a formula that i have observed, as they get a bit more creative in trying to input sex scenes while escaping the accusations of immorality. of course im pretty sure it applies to other cultures as well, but the hollywood flick tends to just slam sex in your face. quite fascinating!

melbourne’s healthcare system is a piece of shit.

cuz you know in your heart babe, our love will never end
… it’s only a matter of time.

i really want to believe this and i think i can, and i hope he can, too. 2 months and 5 days more. till then anyway, he’s basically been my hands and feet and putting up with my tantrums, as i went through a a week and 4 days of involuntary hibernation after injuring my ankle for the upteenth time, only it was a bit worse and i’ve been on crutches for about a week now. can’t say that i’m the most careful person. but most certainly i went through quite a harrowing experience at the royal melbourne hospital, where for the first time, when i have money to wave around, i couldn’t get treatment.

admittingly i went to the emergency ward, and yes i was not bleeding or anything. also, my foot was rather numb that night and i couldn’t seem to pinpoint where exactly my pain was, but i had no ankle reflexes and i obviously had trouble walking when i had to DRAG my foot to the hospital. i certainly did not expect to be turned away with a “well you’ll have to wait allll night” when it wasn’t half as crowded as NUH. or to be thankfully bandaged, but then left to go without a crutch, so i was supposed to save my own life hopping on one foot.

i don’t blame the nurse honestly, but its a deep flaw in australia’s heathcare system, being so privatised like any other job when in fact, health care is a RIGHT for all human beings. doctors simply have it worse than others because lives depend on them, and what remains of the staff at emergency are disgruntled, unhappy clerks and nurses that look like the world owed them a living. well if you cant deal with it dont work in a goddamn hospital. and open your main entrances for god’s sake. which hospital in the world DOESN’T open their main entrance! just because someone isn’t hemorrhaging or dying doesn’t mean he or she doesn’t need help.

and sure enough by the next day my foot got more swollen, and i had to pay for uninsured physiotherapy sessions in order to get an x ray (which thank goodness is 85% subsidised, although i wonder how much trouble i have to go through to claim it), because the hospital just wouldn’t do it. it wasn’t a fracture but it was certainly more than an ankle injury, a bad muscle sprain on the middle of my foot that put me on crutches for 5 days.

as such another point being, if the hospital was willing/able to treat me i wouldnt have to spend extra ON TOP of the insurance that i’ve already paid for. knn.

you are crazy/gentle in the way you kiss.

somehow i’m finding it harder and harder. with each day i feel a bit more reluctant to leave carl at the end of the year, but the realities of things drags me all the way down, beneath the soil.

i remember this scene in True Blood where Stephen rises naked from the earth and grabs Sookie, and they make love right in the middle of the graveyard. and in Prozac Nation, where Elizabeth says she finally understands why people want to kill and eat their lovers, inhale their ashes, because it’s the only way to truly possess someone.

But is love really like that? just a purely animalistic instinct, to fuck, to kill? then again, is it not love if it doesn’t push you to the extreme? i know i should probably be more preoccupied with scholarly thoughts. Just a couple of weeks ago i wrote an essay on comedy/wit, and even Freud admits that the genius of creating laughter is something he cannot explain… and yet, for him love is purely sexual from birth, to your mother, your father, your baby brother.

i think we should all just learn to stop thinking.

the train ride

the train ride is very much a solitary experience. this is not to say that i have never taken one with company, but most of the time, i don’t. and if you were to pay any slight attention, you will be able to see that, paradoxically, even as you sit by yourself, you are not alone in feeling the same way.

what is the train? it is a marvellous invention. it is made up of long, big, spacious cabins, with just the right amount of cushion on the seats to make the longest journey satisfactorily bearable. especially on connex trains, there is always that bit of separation between every space, in case someone has the nerve to sit beside you. at this point in time, your radius of privacy is significantly reduced, and you fidget. but despite the warmth of this intruder, you are still alone in a space you can’t claim, with your flighting presence that comes, and goes. we are all by ourselves yet members of the public order.

but enough of that, there are things to do and people waiting. until then it’s just you, The Weepies, and the passing scenery.

——

carl saw this post and said, “try taking it during peak hour, you’ll have a very different opinion.” (:

happy birthday propaganda

it’s the same old shit every year, but you can’t help feeling the national pride that comes with the fireworks display, kind of like, well we must not be doing too badly since we can afford heart-shaped fireworks. or the songs laced with the reinforcement of singaporean identity and patriotism, or how we sing along no matter how cheesy or blatant it is. “Home”, for example, is a totally political song that we have been in love with since primary school, and it is especially important with the huge number of overseas singaporeans today.

but you see, sometimes i really don’t find that there is anything wrong with this propaganda. i mean, at least it’s quite in your face and not all subliminal. and if home is really that strict and bad a place, well i don’t think i’ll be where i am right now. some part of me does love singapore. it will always be home to me. no matter how many shopping malls they build or how they paint over the walls again and again, it is like one of the few constants against the fucking tide of change.

it’s good to know that i have at least this familiarity to look forward to.

Such Great Heights- Iron & Wine

I am thinking it’s a sign
That the freckles in our eyes
Are mirror images and
When we kiss they’re perfectly aligned

And I have to speculate
That God himself did make us into
Corresponding shapes like puzzles pieces
From the clay

True, it may seem like a stretch
But it’s thoughts like this
That catch my troubled head
When you’re away, when I am missing you to death

When you were out there on the road
For several weeks of shows
And when you scan the radio
I hope this song will guide you home

They will see us waving from such great heights
“Come down now,” they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
“Come down now,” but we’ll stay

I’ve tried my best to leave
This all on your machine
But the persistent beat
Sounded thin upon listening

That frankly will not fly
You will hear the shrillest highs
And lowest lows with the windows down
When this is guiding you home

They will see us waving from such great heights
“Come down now,” they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
“Come down now,” but we’ll say…

hopeless emptiness.

“And you know what the worst part of it is? Our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we’re special. They we’re superior to the whole thing. But we’re not. We’re just like everyone else! We bought into the same, ridiculous delusion.”

it really isn’t about how a film encourages abortion, or does not, or talks about the right values or the wrong things. it’s being so starkly in-your-face that it reminds you of the little life cycle that all sane normal people are forever trapped in, and all those crazy others have the power to run free.

wtf are they teaching kids these days?

my 9-year-old cousin came to me for help with her science homework, and i was flabbergasted when i got all the answers wrong.

she asked me what kept penguins warm. so i confidently said, “their fats! it keeps you warm, that’s why they are fat.”
and she said, “no, it’s their feathers”, and i said, “NO, it’s their fats!” wtf? and then she showed me her bloody workbook which says EXACTLY what she said.

ok to be fair they do have feathers on them, but it doesn’t contribute as much right! in fact, according to wiki (I USE ONLY THE CITED SOURCE), one intepretation of “penguin” is that it could be translated from the latin word ‘pinguis‘, which literally means FAT. although, there is the complication that most species of penguins don’t even live in the artic anyways (this is true, i swear), but then the question of warmth perhaps becomes irrelevant.

TELL ME THIS IS NOT A FUCKING FAT PENGUIN LIVING IN THE ARTIC.

point two: then she asked me, and do penguins have wings? and i very confidently said, “no, they have flippers”, and she said, “NO, they have wings!”, and she showed me her guanyin-forsaken workbook again, which said that penguins have WINGS. wtf. wtf?? although after some research i have found that penguins are in fact classified as birds, they don’t fucking fly. DOH. wtf do you need wings for if you hunt in the water??

O.M.G.!!

i think that these days, it’s not that kids are degenerating, it’s that these schoolbook writers are too busy collating their trivial knowledge to even educate themselves. my goodness.

mother sugar

“As for Anna she was thinking: If I join in now, in a what’s-wrong-with-men session, then I won’t go home, I’ll stay for lunch and all afternoon, and Molly and I will feel friendly, all barriers gone… We’ve chosen to live a certain way, knowing the penalties, or if we didn’t we know now, so why whine and complain… and besides, if I’m not careful, Molly and I will descend into a kind of twin old-maidhood, where we sit around saying to each other, Do you remember how that man, what-was-his-name said that insensitive thing, it must have been 1947…”

i have been back in singapore for more than a week now, have partaken in the weekend zouk rituals and endless mahjong sessions. not that i am complaining, it’s just local flavour as i have always known it.

grandma is doing alright, she’s lost so much weight and the skin bags on her arms that i used to play with so much now look more like rubber bags that have lost their elasticity. she showed me her scar, for which tears welled up in an instant, yet also bringing about another feeling- wanting to photograph it. it is perhaps the ultimate of rudeness, the media beast instinct of wanting to document pain. i remember the last time i took a picture of her she was upset by the result, disgusted that she had become so old and frail. this time, it seems, she is nearer to death than she knows… to have to go through the loss of others is a repetitive process, but to lose yourself? how must that feel like? to physically occupy space no longer?

these days i finally have the time (and desire) to read again. i finished yakuza moon, which was just tragic as a book itself, this chick lit called Band Geek Love, because i was a band geek , and now i’m on doris lessing’s The Golden Notebook, which is simply astonishing even on the prelude. completely marxist feminist i must say, but aren’t we all?