the first week post-work-nightmare has been good stuff.

lots of bagels + cream cheese, caramel machiatto, catching up, refusing to believe that it may be His will that we enjoy celibacy, relaxing, calming stuff. Serious talk, about how he has to try harder, shame shame time to leave me now. Not seeing much difference, and not wanting to care too much. Still taking it one day at a time. But all these, good stuff I tell you.

Then wed came. 2 days spent with protégé. Nice people. There was sree- the ex AC Indian boss who married Chinese wife, so the immediate connection assumed. Funny guy, and cares a lot for welfare of his instructors. There was kamal, afiqa and nuruul- drama mama people, willing to take me in, singing our generation’s oldies, very same frequency how often man? starbucks at suntec will visit soon. There was chindian boy, who they tried to match make, which I thought was retarded, and it really did fail in attempts in the end. Lastly, there was the 7 kids in my group, who emerged champions in the 40 km navigation trial challenge.

Yes my friends. Forty km. Khatib to Kallang, and back. Now becky walks like she has rickets. 40 km, people. Nothing is impossible in this world, for ever more.

That 13 hours and 36 minutes began at 3 a.m. in the morning, and stretched all the way till the night. Kids were on ration, so I followed suit, resulting in isotonic drinks and one gardenia twiggy the whole time. If you had passed kallang river, marymount road, ang mo kio, lentor avenue, or anywhere in between on Thursday, and saw a bunch of humans lying all across bus stops/ walking without their shoes/ hiding behind trees reading maps, hello.

But never questioned why I was doing it. Cause it was fun in some sordid way. Making it seem much clearer again. The direction I should head. (Bah not suppose to have rhythm when you read this!)

Fast forward Friday. Youth retreat.

Cosy fellowship, hide and seek in church, eu eu as my partner in crime, chong pang + prata, learning new praises, and most importantly, walking away learning so much from His word. Assurance of salvation. And, it’s all about Him.

I thank God. It was wonderful. It was good enough for me. Sometimes, you just have to stick around and wait for special moments like that. Even if it means tiding through times of dry spells. Our Lord is one mighty Maker who makes everything beautiful in His time.

Monday, I’m off to Bangkok. Mamuang Khao Nieo you betta watch out. I'm comin for you.

Tis the holidays, the way I like it.

if we have not met up, it's largely my fault cause i'm never good with such stuff. excuses you say. but when i come back, i will try harder at this stuff. and if i carry on being a bastard, tell me so i'd wake up. sorry if i've been horrible friend. will try harder, you must know.

when we were younger, pops was papa. he was just daddy. he worked, put food on the table, and on rare occassions, would allow himself to be quirky.

for example, there was one night, probably a decade ago, when we all couldn't sleep. papa took a blanket, wore it like a hood, made us line up behind each other choo choo train style, and brought us on a ride. it was midnight, and we were screaming and laughing. we got so tired, and fell asleep shortly after that.

he disciplined. and we feared him. for example, there was one time, when i and rachel fought, we broke the toilet door. oh the after math when papa returned was bad. but that was how we learnt, and that was why we feared him.

papa was just daddy. he worked, put food on the table, and never revealed his emotional side to us.

it was only after the big family trial we experienced, and probably only as i got older, that i saw the softer side to papa. that was when he became pops.

the father-daughter relationship strengthened at college. he would come late at night to fetch me from school after a pseudo study session at the void deck. and we would talk. we would talk about mommy, about joshua, about school, about life.

it just got stronger and stronger after that. he became best friend material. we would go running, swimming, or driving together. and then phuket, for 3D 2N, just me and pops. there would be nights where he would come sit on my bed, and we would just talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. and it came very naturally. no one asked for a stronger and better relationship. it was God-sent.

at the recent nightmare internship stint, pops revealed even more protective fatherly instincts. he was all ready to march up the stairs to give it to the witch, i had to hold him back. what touched me the most were those mornings before work, where he would say, 'beck, come, let me pray for you before you go'.

i casually told some of my students the last time that i would probably end up with a boyfriend-future-husband who has similar characteristics that my dad has - wicked sense of humour, strong and physically fit, pragmatic, funny, a man of God - and i think that may be true. we'll see.

i can't ask for more. i am truly blessed to have a pops like pops.

so,here's to many more years to come, of being daddy's girl.
i love you pops. happy fathers' day.


heh don't worry, he's nice.

With this little ounce of energy left in me, I shall attempt to squeeze out a consolidation of my thoughts. The time is 8pm. I have just finished work. It’s not new. I sit on the bus and contemplate on the month.

I have a day left.

I need to reflect on the atrocities of this month, lest I forget and remain forever internally scarred. I cannot walk away from this experience the loser. For I have paid a heavy price already - Six hundred bucks plus many nights of tears plus casting burdens on family and friends via whining plus a broken spirit on too many days - to be exact. I have to walk away the victor, so the price paid would seem insignificant to what was gained. So, join me as I contemplate, and as I sum up this awful chapter of my life.

I start, with why I hate the job so much. In other words, I attempt to justify the past tears, gripes and lack of determination to give this internship stint a chance.

I work for someone whom I have no respect for whatsoever. I do not respect her work ethics, her moral values, her dreams and aspirations, if she even has any. I’ve always been someone who tries to see the good in others rather than the bad (really?) yes really. But I’ve been driven to embrace the dark side, for this villain, she has nothing I can speak for.

Whenever I am in her presence, I feel filthy. Every time I have to be associated with her, I am overwhelmed with embarrassment. She is rude, childish, pathetic. She has made me do so many things I am not proud of. She has no friends. No friends at all. That calls for some pity? Don’t. She hides her loneliness by going out with a different man every night. That calls for some pity? Up to you.

She loads her weaknesses on us by verbally insulting our intelligence and capabilities. As much as I try to immune myself to those hurtful words that so frequently depart from her mouth, I sense that a part of my confidence has been torn down already, and it’ll take a while to patch. She has taught me one thing, and that is who I should not be.

I could go on. There’s been numerous lunches where I have formulated what to say about her “tonight on the blog”. But who shall it benefit? It only makes me more bitter, and it makes me hate. No no, I want to be a victor.

Let’s move on.

Public relations. Ahh. It’s a love-hate relationship I tell you. Hate pitching stories to journalists. It superficializes (new word, didn’t know?) the whole concept of news. I dread, dreaaaaaaaaaaaad, picking up the phone, sounding cheerful and having to sell a media angle I do not feel for. It makes me want to puke having to do something that I shake my head in disapproval to.

The love in this relationship will be from organizing events. It has always been a favourite. I had the opportunity during this stint to organize for our client’s media launch. I like the part where we source for locations, think of floral arrangements, engage the musician ladadooda. I had so much fun working with Au Jardin Les Amis, the florists from Red Box, the designer, the jazz performer, ladadooda. I enjoyed those rare moments where I parked in front of photoshop’s interface, crafting out a media invite. I had fun.

But she has to come in and taint it all. Of course she does. Like what you see in the movies, where the evil boss changes her mind 276 times and the employee goes round in circles because of an incompetent boss. But this ain’t no movie baby.

Ok enough of this rubbish.

The other side, and why I will walk away a victor.

This has been an experience, like no other. I’ve been pushed out of my comfort zone, I’ve taken plunges to the heart, head, everywhere. But so many beautiful things have emerged from this seemingly depressing ghastly period. I’ve become much closer to my dad and mom. From this experience, I have seen how much they truly love and care for me. I have come to understand working people more. Like why they’re cranky like they are. Cause work is hard! It really is. Everything from nasty bosses, to the rigid routine of waking up and marching to the train station every morning, to the short one hour lunch break, right up to being so tired after work you just go to sleep immediately. Not easy at all.

So many older members at church, whom I’ve never had close relationships with before, had come up to me with words of encouragement, sharing their experiences, and consequently, the forging of new bonds. Friends, who have been nothing but nice, have reassured me that one of the biggest blessings I have in life, is having them around. Just being around.

This experience has showed me what I want in life and what I don’t want. It has always been a hazy picture. This trial has cleaned up the messy lines. Though it is not absolutely clear now, God has hinted the direction. And till I reach the next fork stuck in the road, I hope for brighter days to come.

And what more can I say; God is faithful. The power of prayer. Life is tough. But when you are tried, and purified, you shall come forth as gold.

This has got to be the longest entry ever. You still reading this? Alas, a friend. Who cares. I love you. Let’s have coffee soon.

24 more hours.

The End.

remember?



a sloppy sequel



oh yah, go ahead and steal it.



(doh!)

it isn't the preacher's flowery prayer
or the way the choir sings
or the size of the coin your neighbour gives
or the help your brother brings
it isn't the size of your favourite church,
or the cost of your favourite pew
or the style of the clothes the members wear
for it isn't the church, it's you.

it isn't the way the work is done
or the way the money is spent
or whether the gospel's all brought in
or whther there's some that's sent
it isn't the kind of creed they love
or peculiar things they do
or whether the doctrine suits your taste
for it isn't the church, it's you.

for a chain's as strong as the weakest link
and it breaks with a heavy load
but a church that's full of the links that pull
can level the roughest road
if you get in tune with Master's will
with your heart and labours too
you will love your church, though it has its faults
for it isn't the church, it's you.

TIRED.
but to those who remain, to those who toil and who are weary, and have been giving it their all - for the love of this church and for the higher calling - don't give up, lest this battle be won to the devil. I don't even know if i am in any position to say anything, but I do know that i want to do more. and tho i don't know how else, i shall claim this verse that my dear friend andrew kam has used to encourage me, and i hope will do to you too:

"Therefore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not..But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. For we which live are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh. So then death worketh in us, but life in you."

2 Cor 4:1, 7-12

don't give up.

one last night. of reunions. it was a nice night. we talked till 2am. over pizza and brownies. old classroom stories, current army stories and future life stories. we used to rush to the game room to play pool, or take turns dunking people into the pool. but not this time. we just talked and talked and talked. till 2am. over pizza and brownies.

sbone, acjc class of 2003.

the past 2 nights were spent re-uniting.

first with the junior council, this batch being the 30ths. it was nice. it always is what. i was reminded how beautiful acjc looks at night when the 27ths (lao jiaos) sat at the bleachers and talked bout ol times.

then tonight was spent catching up with cs friends. as we sat at dinner, and talked about our internship stints, i could not help but envision ourselves in 4 years time, pushed out into the working world, meeting for monthly dinners, and bitching about journalists and what nots. not enticing. so let's not go there for now.

and tomorrow, the much awaited sb one gathering at sam's crib. and everyone better be there. it's gonna be a blast.

i guess the reunions would be so much better if i didn't have to go after work cause my brain shuts down at 7pm on working days. and heels. those darn heels. i hate heels.




i miss my bodyguards.

i'm gonna have a room makeover. it has had the same look for almost 5 years already. so today's entry is specially dedicated to those who have not been to becky and ruth's room. one last look at it before it gets pimped!

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now get out of my room

even though the stadium was only half-filled, no kallang wave was done, and the atmosphere was no where close to that of tiger cup, the night had it's bittersweet ending as i got to spend it with closest pal charm and my darling students from unity sec. of course, having de-lovely at close range was an added incentive.

yet if no one is there to see, to write, to take a photograph, it is as if these facts had never occured, this suffering has no importance, no place in history.

because history exists only if someone relates to it

it is sad, but such is life; and perhaps it is precisely this idea -the idea that with every little description of a thing observed one can leave a seed in the soil of memory- that keeps me tied to... blogging

- tiziano terzani, on why he is a journalist, in 'a fortune teller told me'.
- becky, on why she blogs.

_______________________________________________________________________________

in other news.

i'm bumped that my ultimate cutie pic is circulating around the internet now. yes, there are other more impt things to be bumped about, but now, that just bumps me. i like to be acknowledged, that you must know. sigh, it was suppose to be just something private initially. but, what did we learn in political studies class? nothing is entirely private. what i do find amusing however, is, the pic is on baihakki khaizan's blog. it's so wierd. staring at it there.

the thrills sing into my ears everyday as i commute to work. deck chairs and cigarettes.
countdown: 14 days.

but tmr, tmr, i shall be seeing de-lovely.



go singapura.