Sometimes you meet certain people from the various facets of your life who are completely, bewilderingly, hard to understand or love in the same effortless way you do for God, some family members, a partner, and nice people.

But these aforementioned 'certain people' could be thinking the same thing about you as you are about them.

Better to choose Love at all times. In spite of.

"...let all that you do be done in love..."

Just thinking about how nice it is to be able to go for late night jogs in The Motherland without feeling remotely afraid. Well, less afraid than I would be here anyway.

But if I were there right now, I'd be thinking about how nice it would be to jog alongside some awesome scenery (ooh yea Swan River), great weather (bar the wretched summer heat), and clean, fresh air.

Oh mere mortal, when will you ever learn to be contented?




And about contentment.

Sometimes, I stumble across these deeply reflective and beautifully written blogs. You know those? Kinda like tumblr picture blogs, but in prose instead of overly photo-shopped pictures. Carefully crafted prose that seemingly showcase a feminine, gentle, sensitive and intelligent soul.

And I think to myself, what sort of persona would my writing on this blog reflect? Suffice to say, words like idiotic, lame, melodramatic and etc. shove my strongly preferred adjectives aside, rushing to the foreground as if there was a prize waiting to be won.

Dang. I wanna be that reflective and demure girly girl too. The kind that takes special pride in being the weak damsel to her hero hubs. The kind that have no qualms about addressing their spouses as "dear dear", "hubby", "darling", "sweetie pie", "hunny bunny", "jelly belly", and the like.

Anyway! After feeling a tad insecure for about 5 seconds, I snap back to reality and decide to "screw being demure and proper". Well, not literally. Please forgive my foul mouth that I need to wash out with the blood of Christ. Oh Lord... not a good visual at all.

Ahem.

I am who I am. The style of writing I truly enjoy are frequently irreverent and satiric, and at times the humor belying a certain level of depth in their introspection. Of course, I'm not saying that I'm unexpectedly deep and cerebral beneath this facade of fluffiness. (I am unfortunately, as shallow as I look.) But, I am a true connoisseur and honestly, a try-hard purveyor of all that is worthy of laughs, and lameness and stuff that makes people cringe.

Yet, discontent leaves me wanting.

Discontent makes me despise who I am. Discontent causes me to covet when I have been commanded not to. Discontent leaves me wanting to be who I'm not made to be.

But ahhh... tumblr. What would we do without tumble and it's cheesy quotables... such as "no one can do a better job of being you than you." 

For the more spiritually inclined, we need to bear in mind that we truly are "fearfully and wonderfully made". The heart cannot do the work of the feet, nor can the feet perform the intricate tasks of the bowels.

Hahahaha, sorry.

To be honest, as I mature (into fine wine btw, not rotten fruit), these episodes of self-doubt have considerably dwindled to a slow trickle. Only occasionally does the leaky tap allow a few errant droplets to escape, manifesting itself in these random feelings of insecurity. But, - and this is the good thing about growing older - you learn to deal with it. You learn that there are people who love you for you.

People, such as my parents, who still call me "darling" in a mushy manner that I secretly enjoy (but only if it's from them). Who updates me with completely useless details on the elections, like the candidates' alma mater and the names of their respective spouses. Thanks to my mum, I now know that President Tan is married to a lady named "Mary" and that he attended St. Patrick's. And, who still worries that I don't eat properly and etc.

And other people of course. Or else that will be bit pathetic, that the only people who love me are my parents. *Awkward laughter *

Anyway! The point is that we need to be content. Self-improvement is not the same as self-loathing. We should always strive for more, and to be better version of ourselves, instead of wanting to be someone else.  Honestly, I think I'm actually pretty good at this. Only because I sometimes notice how pathetic it is when people try to be somebody else. I don't wanna be pathetic.

Haha. Ok. This is getting too long. Until the next time I feel like pretending to be cheem...

Toodles~!



Side-note: There's nothing wrong with terms of endearment la. You can call ze other half whatever you want. It's just that, I hate romantic cliches. "Darling" is ok, but it's reserved for my parents. "Dear" is something I call every other person and write in greeting cards and formal letters. I don't wanna launch into a discourse about the rest coz I'm lazy (and should be less critical).

Hmmm, maybe I'll use "my Love". Heh heh. It's succinct, isn't it? He (whoever he may be, where ever he is now) is my love. The love of my life. Haha. Lame. Machiam living in the Victorian era. Feel free to unleash your vitriolics on my choice.


Side-note aside from the side-note: Last one I promise! I changed the font for the main text coz, Gasp! The previous one was beginning to strain my eyes! Damn you Age! :((

没那么简单
就能去爱
别的全不看
变得实际
也许好也许坏各一半
不爱孤单 一久也习惯
不用担心谁
也不用被谁管

想念最伤心
但却最动心 的记忆

[ ]

In light of all the disasters (man-made or otherwise) unfolding around the world, a timely reminder that in spite of His Grace, there is a choice to be made between the Right and the Wrong, the Life from the Death. Choose Life, now, because there may be no tomorrow to make things Right.

We are not our own.

Malachi 3

The Coming Messenger

Do Not Rob God

The People Complain Harshly

A Book of Remembrance

It's always this particular time (of the month) when all I want to do is eat, sleep, emote to melodramatic Asian songs while nursing the darndest cramp.

I freaking hate being a female.

I think I wanna be a cat.

Each time I read an awesome article or piece of writing, I'm reminded of the need for me to blog more. To practice my writing in a manner more conducive to improvement than a 140-character summary. But writing takes time, and material. Both of which I seriously lack ever since I started the job as a shop girl. But no matter, I'm sure I'll rediscover my blogging mojo soon and starting filling this space with all sorts of life-changing revelations and stuff. Hardy har har.

So, during the recent Trip Back Home aka Pilgrimage to The Motherland, I was sorely reminded of the state of my spiritual walk or should I say, what's left of it? It's like, I've turned into the type of Christian I used to not want to turn into. Old, jaded and insipid. I hate that I've pushed God to the backseat and demand that He still remain in the car while I drive myself to where ever my fancies take me.

And I don't like the person that I become when I'm not close to Him.

But His is a love that will not let me go. It's so hard to comprehend why or how, but still He reminds me that I need Him. Still He speaks. Still He listens. And Still is what I want to be in the face of the world. When the voice of the world screams louder than His gentle promptings, I want to remember to Be Still and Know that He is God.

And nothing that I do or have done can ever change that.

I almost forgot I had a blog.

It happens, I s'pose. When life catches up with you, things like updating a blog gets relegated to the backseat. And life, "life" forcibly takes over the wheel and steers you to places you probably don't want to go. But that's life.

Life.

Haha. But in truth. I've just been lazy. Lazy at first, then busy. Busy with this exciting new part-time job I got. A notch better than taking orders at a Chinese take-out (been there, done that) but nothing compared to getting a real job. Which I really should be getting soon, considering the age I'm at right now. Argh, self-pwnage! Can't wait to graduate and live my life!

(and thus, I live each day with regret in my heart, and guilt on my shoulders.)

Anyway, back to The Job. It's hell tiring. I don't even know why I work so much harder in menial tasks as compared to meaningful things like revising. I guess I like that feeling of being tired to the point of exhaustion. Or maybe I'm subconsciously punishing myself for not working hard in the semester? Haha. Oh well, I'll never know. I'm too much of an escapist, so much so that I elude even myself. If you've ever felt that I'm all secretive and mysterious and etc. You're probably not alone. I don't understand myself either.

And that brings me to the topic of relationships, which honestly, I don't have many of. The number of friends I truly hold dear to my heart and trust with my life, I can count on maybe, 1 finger. Or 2. But these are the friends who are required to love me even when I'm unlovable (some might debate that I'm perpetually unlovable, but these are the ones with bad judgment and are obviously, neither one of the True Friends I'm referring to here. haha.). Take me as I am and deal with it. Too bad for you, since you've been inducted into my fiercely guarded circle of trust. But in return, I'm your forever friend. Well, that's supposed to be a good thing. Haha.

Ok, imma end here. It's abrupt and weird and I've yet to make the connection between my escapism and my relationships. But I no longer feel like being open and reflective. And a cursory glance at the clock shows that I should be sleeping because I've gotta work hard at work tomorrow. Haha. Maybe another time, another post.

In the meantime, Merry belated Xmas. And Happy New Year in advance.


Yawn.

Realized that The Message version of the bible is quite an interesting read. Nothing new content-wise per se, but  I find it almost amusing in how contemporary the language is. It kind of reads like a modern day novel.

Anyway, 1 Timothy 6.

Virtual personal reminder for when post-its get buried under the mess that have since taken up permanent residency on my desk:

 ^13-16I'm charging you before the life-giving God and before Christ, who took his stand before Pontius Pilate and didn't give an inch: Keep this command to the letter, and don't slack off. Our Master, Jesus Christ, is on his way. He'll show up right on time, his arrival guaranteed by the Blessed and Undisputed Ruler, High King, High God. He's the only one death can't touch, his light so bright no one can get close. He's never been seen by human eyes—human eyes can't take him in! Honor to him, and eternal rule! Oh, yes.

 ^17-19Tell those rich in this world's wealth to quit being so full of themselves and so obsessed with money, which is here today and gone tomorrow. Tell them to go after God, who piles on all the riches we could ever manage—to do good, to be rich in helping others, to be extravagantly generous. If they do that, they'll build a treasury that will last, gaining life that is truly life.

 ^20-21And oh, my dear Timothy, guard the treasure you were given! Guard it with your life. Avoid the talk-show religion and the practiced confusion of the so-called experts. People caught up in a lot of talk can miss the whole point of faith.

   Overwhelming grace keep you!

And of course.

Been busying myself with what needs to be submitted, revised, and memorized. But when the going gets tough, the tough gets going and I navigate the sails through the stormy seas to make a mini pit-stop at the Island of Calm. Where time stands still for a while, and all sense of propriety gets tossed out the window (or in this case, ship). Here I cease to behave as a 25+ (ha ha) year old should. (Not that I act my age much but I like to pretend that I do.) Here, I abandon all pride and decency and other isms of The Real World.

Here, I swoon.