Ever since the whole slew of events, I’ve been able to spend a lot more time at home.

Only recently though, it struck me that we’ve been living in this mansionette for close to a decade; the dust accumulating on furniture, shoe boxes stacking sky-high, the amount of stuff we have collected since moving from our 20-year old apartment in Pandan Gardens – all indicators that are striking enough to remind me that this inhabitation has been a pretty long one.

Long enough to house a bagful of memories, events, and happenings; as many welcomed as unwelcome-d ones. While the Pandan Garden apartment is steeped with childhood nostalgia, what we have been experiencing here has definitely transcended a different level.

I think it is here that we have learnt how to forgive, after fights (and perhaps still learning); we have learnt that no matter how insurmountable challenges may be, there should be a way out of it, and we’ve been through enough to know that there will be; it is here that I grew closer to pops, and fought more with mom so much so that all that fighting brought me to a more intimate level with her; it is here that Christ reminded us of His position as head of this household, the unseen guest at every meal, and while we have brought many other idols unknowingly into this place, He has showed us what He means by reigning supreme, and for that we have been much blessed.

The house may not be fancy, and at times, I can get kinda highly strung about how messy it can get (ruth is probably shaking her head saying “kinda”?). At the end of the day though, I think my mom has succeeded in creating our own little cozy place, be it through the numerous baskets of flowers that threaten to fill every empty corner, photo frames of all shapes and sizes placed in no apparent pattern or theme, or the fridge plastered with magnets, missionary prayer cards and take away menus. I guess I much rather it be filled with these things, than for it to be an exact replica off an I.D catalogue.

I am ashamed at how sometimes I attempt to relocate furniture when mom’s not looking, or worse, throw that old broken thing that she refuses to dispose of when she’s not around – all these while griping and looking forward to the day I own my own pad so that I can have things my way. Then I realize that I am living in my parents’ house, and mom has already done a supreme job keeping this home with no help at all the past 28 years, and pops, the handyman, has been legendary in fixing every broken and troubled part, keeping things running.

This will be home. And somehow I believe, it will be for many more decades to come.

Right, so an uplifting entry on family: perhaps a by product from loving Brothers & Sisters – a hit on my tv list right now for being some sorta Six Feet Under but less screwed up plus incredible soundtrack; I definitely like.

Does help that youngest brother and junkie of the show, Dave Annable, is quite hot.

I should write.

It’s been a lovely few weeks. (Really?) My mind is beginning to learn to retain only good things and forget sad things – I am grateful that function is surfacing now; never too late.

Today I met Fay. We had dim sum, with the rain falling very gently beside us. It was cozy, fellowship-ing with this girl whom I’ve been classmates with in p sch, secondary school and then junior college. We then proceeded to town to shop, just because the two of us have not in a long time, just because we’re the when school starts go to orchard two times a semester kind of girls.

And while there, we did the secondary school things, like rummaging through racks, buying takopachi and papa bread in between rummaging through racks, but minus the secondary things like taking neo prints and sitting at the corners of shopping centres laughing and screaming until the security guard arrives and we run away.

And just a few days ago, I got to meet with my ang moh friend Charm. We got to chat over pastries and coffee and the rain was about to fall very gently beside us. I like it when I am with my ang moh friend Charm; when I think about her leaving again soon, I can get pretty sad, but I tell myself I must treasure the times more.

The 27ths had a small reunion at Shan’s, Chek had his birthday celebration. Got to say hello and talk to old friends and tis always good. The pvp committee had a debrief and as I sat and listened to the juniors of thee years talk about their times at Fairfield – it was really really funny – and as Francis the model waiter served us and gave us free buffalo wings, I was very glad to have met this bunch of people.

Then there was the hanging out with the folks while we sat at home to watch over the renovators. Pops made coffee in the morning, teh in the afternoon, and coffee again at night as I worked on InDesign and pops monitored the sgx. Everyday at 9am and 1pm, we would sit on the sofa and switch between channels for Oprah and Ellen. And everyday, it was gloomily gray, just the way I’ll have it for days-in.

On Sunday, the church celebrated its 37th anniversary. I don’t remember us singing this loud ever before, but we did. Maybe it was the kids, maybe it was the pressure from having to sing after the solid Filipino choir that rocked the house down, or maybe we were just truly really happy to be singing to a full house - the church was overflowing with people - proclaiming that God is good, all the time.

Now I reach the part where I can’t remember the in betweens, and I regret for not keeping track of it more. I know the in betweens were good, cause when I reflect on the past two weeks, I feel slushy and syrupy and good.

And while all this happy talk is making you laugh, let me just add that this is all coming from me, the big cynic, so you don’t get to laugh. I thank God for Ecclesiastes, and how in having to prepare to lead on Chapter 5 this Sunday for bible study, I feel like King Solomon is a friend, a bigger cynic himself, the cynics club!

The days of his sorrow and sore travail, his working days, his weeping days – he shall either forget them or remember them, because God answers him in the joy of his heart, balances all the grievances of his labour with the joy of it and recompenses him for it by giving him to eat the labour of his hands.

There’s no reason to feel guilty for what God has given you freely by His grace. And there is no reason to feel ashamed if God has gifted you with fewer possessions than you’d like. In both cases, God also offers the gift of contentment.

A cheerful spirit is a great blessing; it makes the yoke of our employment easy and the burden of our afflictions light.

Today, I feature my baby.





and the musik list.

(pvp pics updated below)

14.07.07

Over.

The past two weeks have been what they call mad rush – and probably more. Yet saying that doesn’t equate to exasperation, though it might very well sound like it. Because.

I really did enjoy the wedding – the post-rehearsals at Auntie Geraldine’s place; where we sank our fingers into the creamiest durians, sucked our thumbs clean after the chili crabs, and talked about all things; after the wedding, where everyone was a little high on the wine, aunties and uncles were dancing and shaking their booties to incoherent Eurasian music; after a week of driving together everywhere, growing closer to my favorite cousin and now cousin-in-law - sharing intimate conversations, tears, laughter, and everything else that needs to be shared in special relationships, sadly now they are far away in Deutschland, but I will never forget.

I really did enjoy the visual literacy workshops - and how in having to conduct four sessions, they have refreshed my own memory of the subject; working with Derrick and just bouncing ideas off each other; seeing the kids put together great work, having them remember the key points, and showing the desire to want to learn more.

And lastly, I really did enjoy the day of Past vs Present - God blessed us with the most amazing weather; Jeremy Auw trio made the place sound like Jazz@Southbridge while they were on set; the boys from Fairfield Soccer World (as they now proudly call themselves) sucked helium from the balloons and danced to The Pipettes and Sean Paul; conversation with Mutt about sailing away one day; all the prayer said for us and well wishes received; seeing familiar faces and the not so familiar which made it even more pleasantly surprising; giving hugs with sweat-drenched shirts and not really minding; having the Arrows come down once again – the legends; the process of working with George, Terry, Jasper, Angela, Jamie, Cin Heng, the P.I.E and Soo Chih; feeling extremely blessed to be surrounded by these beautiful things .

Yet, while enjoying these moments through and through, it was an undeniably tiring two weeks. Not because events are tough shite you just don't sleep till they are over, but more so because of the disappointments faced, through people. If I choose to name them all down here, these memories will be more blotched than it should be for my good.

Is this what the psalmist foretold that we will all surely face while on earth, and concluded in Psalms 118:8 that it is definitely better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man?

We did our best at every of these events, but not everyone values the best, and can even make do with screwing you over and over as if you’re already having lots of fun dealing with crazy people like them.

How do we not dwell on these things?

Surely we can’t push them aside each time and be okay that they happened, so unjustified.

How do you deal with the fact that you’re struggling to do all these things out of love, not monetary or material gains, and yet receive so little support from the places you need the most - screw pride, screw systems - i don't think you'll ever get it.

And it's here that I get stuck: cheesed off but knowing that there’s nothing I can do because pursuing means adding more dramatic themes to the existent drama, life already brings. I proceed to try to let it go; embrace the motto of my life - what I think may be the best solution to shite after twenty one years. What i don't find entirely easy to do, but try to anyway.

Think of Pretty Things.

pictures taken by Derrick Ho.

XX

In between,

Jasmine and I go on our new multi-part heritage tour. It’s further exploration of Singapore, and the beautiful things it could offer. The sun is mad but we walk through the streets like it could be ok, eating too much, buying kung fu shoes, and talking bout all things.

Meeting the Eurasian relatives after what could have been a decade. There was chili crab, Rolling Stones, some tears and much laughter.

In between,

Half a day is spent reasoning, not rationalizing. And over Thai food, we both look forward to his exciting future.

In between,

We go for 5 dollars foot massages, Pho as in Phe, try on pretty dresses, and I love this girl to bits.

We meet up, to tie up loose ends and we move forward. We pray.

In between,

I miss you, but you don’t know that.