world - heart - God

she is the girl who rolls in her own muck -
defying vertigo
by believing that she has not reached
rock-bottom
bc God cannot find her at the foot.

he is the God who has long & strong arms.
as she falls, sheds contrite tears
& does anything but love herself -
even running away from her own skin, or God,
he loves. 

he is the kind of dad who will pick her up,
shower then towel her dry from ordure,
hold her close & tuck stray locks of hair away
from her face, for clarity,
for his picture of love beheld.

he is my daddy God, who treats me
to vanilla ice-cream
after such an episode,
bc Grace is mimed in an ice-cream treat.

I am my own rice

attempting to compile a portfolio of personal writings (that i really hope will suffice) for future references & this is pretty funny bc i have become my own editor, my own greatest critic.

perhaps the journey up starts with a journey within: it is unnerving & simultaneously liberating to become "(my) own rice" (as a.p so astutely phrased it more than a year ago). also, i am getting to learn from the 师父 this coming january (!!!!!!!!) - i am an ambivalent mess of happiness & apprehension in clashing & irreconcilable intensities.

"the future"

all these talks about the future have been exhilarating & unsettling at the same time, & today i finally had the will (i used to wield the trump card of "not enough time" in the past but post-as life has been gr8 bc naps on whim are therapeutic) to consolidate the flotsam-like thoughts in my head, especially the fear of the unknown that eats me up periodically:

what is the future, but a continuation of the culmination of seconds snowballed into minutes, then hours, days, months & years? 

wherein lies that paralysing fear if one sits in inertia, strapped in & sent through the tunnel of time & continuity, as the days repeat their existence & subsequently blur into a slur? 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i am conflicted - wrestling between apprehension of both change & continuity. 

change in general scares me (if one negates the tinge of thrill that accompanies fear, if it is a good change): perhaps it's the idea of something Bigger than oneself out of one's realm of control, & the sole "choice" (an irony) to adapt to uncharted waters - or drown underneath a bed of weeds, strangled & relegated to the bottom of the ocean. 

yet, inertia - its antithetical counterpart, brings little solace as well. 

what is more terrifying than a helpless inability to change, a life condemned to & entrapped in dissatisfaction, while the world spins on its axis (bc no human is indispensable), brings day & night, & leaves one behind to one's own devices? 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

perhaps what grips me (at my very first crossroads of life where there is suddenly no structure to adhere to) is the conundrum of striking a precarious balance between the dichotomy of change & paralysis (the Victorians who were unable to reconcile the abysmal purity of Virgin Mary and the depravity of the "fallen woman" archetype compromised a solution of coexistence by cutting middle ground). 

i don't want either this or that - what i insist on being spoilt child who wants to have her cake & eat it?

i want to be both in the face of the forcefield of impending changes, & i am afraid that my attempts in the near future will be futile - like the inevitable yellowing of favourite pages of novels neatly stacked in shelves against moisture in the all-encompassing air - air that engulfs everything & leaves no book safe from its clutches. 

0%

no, this will no longer be a negation of ineffable feelings/thoughts,
nor an attempt to remain impervious to inevitable changes.

i used to think that this unsettling stoicism in my psyche was borne out of an interactive, constant cycle of pelting & numbing,
but today i've realised that this unease is precisely the product of acceptance (which should not be used interchangeably with resignation) that has been gradually defusing into my veins, so gradual that it has become unconscious & one with my being

& so, this will now form the cement of the ground i am treading on.
it has started to become a recontextualisation, a redefinition - the same things that had once made my heart sink into its cavern can now sing & bestow blessings.

things that used to remind me of the vacuous will now merely remind me, of me.
(how do i put this properly into words but freedom comes two-fold for me in this season)

!! so immensely & positively hyped up bc life begins when this weekend ends !!
(yes, life has yet to begin)

all hail literature

thoughts on the last literature paper (at least for a while, or probably forever - idk) yesterday:

immense relief bc lit had hitherto been akin to a blunt knife chafing at me with the intensity of unfulfilled expectations

but there was inevitably also a sense of loss bc i think i've befriended almost every single primary character in all of my literature texts  (with the exception of the duchess- lol sorry stoic, death-defying martyr) & perhaps lived vicariously through them in some way or another:

newland archer: as much as he is an absolute douche who makes me want to punch his face sometimes, i think he is probably the character i can identify with the most (& i have mentioned this countless of times but aoi arguably has one of the best endings ever - it really couldn't have ended any other way) 

ellen olenska: her unconventionality is so freaking attractive!!! 

silas marner: sh mentioned as a passing comment before (in jest) that i resemble mr marner in my propensity for solitude (to the point of complete social isolation), treacliness (while he couldn't bear to dispose off his broken earthenware pot, i couldn't find it in myself to throw away my old pair of lounge shoes despite buying a new pair) & liking for dull-coloured things, all of which i completely agree 

nancy lammeter: she is such an unlikely character but i can almost identify with her fetishism demonstrated in her visits to her drawer of hand-sewn clothes for her still-born child (the occasional, night visits to the closet of  thoughts/feelings/ideas in the banished recesses of my head - unborn, incorporeal ideals that i thought i had already given proper burial to). but yes, like her, i think i can also safely say that i have renounced the habit of visiting these desolate places again (or at least haven't suffered a relapse)  

lady windermere: "we all have ideals in life. at least we all should have" - i think this says it all

vivie warren: like vivie, i think i aspire to be a less dire version of the New Woman archetype - & like her,  i think individuality functions as my defense mechanism from getting hurt (it kind of goes hand in hand with my inclination for ideals, i think) 

i really love how literature is more omnipresent than one thinks - it is everywhere, because "the air of ideas is the only air worth breathing". 

& i thank God & "dead poet's society" for giving me the courage to take the one subject that i can safely say (regardless of the future results) that i do not regret taking

Your hands

for only You - & nothing nor anyone else, can make me brave

'but He said to me, "My Grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness." therefore i will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.' (2 cor 12:9) 

take me from strength to strength & glory to glory, just like You've promised

my own bell curve

"in long-distance running, the only person you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be." 

(haruki murakami)

farewell // full circle

i think if i have to sum up today in a word it will be "surreal".

i am feeling strangely phlegmatic - except for this slightly disconcerting tugging at my heart that is a friend of the sentiment called "sense of loss". (perhaps less acute bc school is not done with us & vice versa) 

no, i think i am proud to say that i have no regrets - if i could have restarted jc life again i would have done it in exactly the same way (maybe with the exception of working harder from the very start) 

it felt almost chimerical when i plugged in my florence & the machine's playlist on my ipod in my solitary walk to the parade square for the last assembly ever as batch 2014. as "heartlines" engulfed my eardrums i felt goosebumps erupting from my arms bc that was exactly how i started jip - i remember my solitary adventures around the school - finding new favourite reading spots, away from the vociferous crowds of people making new friends & whose happiness was too loud. i remember how invincible & special this fatm playlist made me feel - how it reminded me that being an individual is not a thing to be frowned upon, but a gift that should be celebrated by that tenable, convicted feeling of self-worth (the feeling that whispers, "to have somebody is nice, but to have no one but yourself is nice too")

i've (almost) come full cycle & nothing much has changed (at least from the outside - besides having a brace-free face that has affected my way of smiling - hopefully in a good way haha). sometimes external stasis may not be a bad thing if it comes at the expense of smoothing internal fluctuations. 

even so, i really think that it's the nostalgia of rj that i will miss dearly. i have experienced so many things that have made me feel over the course of nearly two years, & the prospect of not being able to relieve these sensations in the exact same manner makes me extremely treacly. this place was (i say "was" bc alvls prep have stemmed my attempts at further self-exploration) a place where i tested the vivacity of my ideals & saved them before they collapsed (or perhaps even collected the broken pieces of them & glued them back together). this was a place where i discovered so many things about myself, wrote about them & embraced both the parts i could comprehend & the parts that had left me bewildered. this was a place so full of the good & bad - & i am a hapless victim of passions (i think i have mentioned before that i either feel nothing or feel too much) 

took a myriad of farewell photos today (including a group photo with the lovely hugeass class map !!finally!! hehe). i love taking photos (ok, i admit it's partly out of vanity esp since i'm a female but) mostly bc there are really no close substitutes to capturing a moment there & then. it comes as some consolation to me that even though we cannot replay favourite moments (even by a few seconds), we are able to snatch those few seconds of happiness (& all things lovely), stave them into the little pockets of our brains/phones/laptops & relieve them vicariously in moments of dearth. 

it is well with my soul

just emerged from a hullabaloo of mangled emotions (a few hours ago) that had pulled at me at all sides until i felt so stretched thin & spent - yes, tonight was one of those nights where my closet giants came to feast on my insides again. (such nights are rare but when they do, they come with a vengeance)

i don't really know how it started but i think it was a gradual build-up of that persistent nagging feeling that had/has been plaguing me recently- the dull ache in my insides that tyrannically whisper how time is no longer an ally & the need to try so much harder than i am doing now.

tonight marked the apex of this pent-up avalanche, triggered by my exasperation with people who care too much (that caring takes the undertone of oppressiveness on my (already) jittery psyche), with myself for being mean in response to them, for conforming true to their words, for just being so utterly weak-willed, for being unable to fathom the whirlwind of emotions bursting at the seams etc - i was so angry with myself for arcane reasons that i was not even sure of & i was so tired of holding up  this myriad of expectations (from self & others) that i just wanted to melt into my blanket & efface (i didn't care where, i just wanted to escape from my own skin)

my pride was too strong - i think i was angry at myself for my resolve to keep everything together when i knew i should have let go of this mangled mess & run to someone Stronger, but i couldn't. i wanted to be strong for myself, for once - to not be the weakling that i believed myself to be. i knew i was spiraling into a downward trajectory entitled "self-pity" & i hated myself so much for it, but i couldn't stop.

and then i broke. as i hugged my knees & cradled myself in the corner of my bedframe bc the tears would not stop falling, i felt so terribly alone - i was writing furiously in my journal "I AM TRYING, DAMN IT I AM TRYING" but i felt like i couldn't be heard - the words could do nothing but stay in ink on the page.

as i was wrestling with myself & choosing to hide from the face of God, the chorus & the bridge of bethel's "it is well" came up on my ipod:

"god save me i'm losing myself"

"through it all, through it all 

my eyes are on You

it is well with me"

"i can't do this, i can't deal with this mess alone"

"so let go, my soul & trust in Him

the waves & wind still know His name 

it is well with my soul 

it is well with my soul

it is well with my soul

it is well with my soul" 

i think writing it out does not do justice at all but the words that fell were like balm that spread itself so munificently over every portion of my being. surrender is such a wonderful, cathartic thing - as the tears finally stemmed from their banks i felt so completely purged of the hitherto pent-up mess of potent emotions. 

"through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You

& it is well with me."

waves of Love, come dispel these waves of fear

And Peter answered Him & said, 

"Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water."

So He said, "Come," And when Peter had come down out of the boat, he walked on the water to go to Jesus.

But when he saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; & beginning to sink he cried out, saying 

"Lord, save me!" 

And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand & caught him, & said to him, 

"O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" 

(Matthew 14:28-31)

loneliness in its full-fledged glory

had this fleeting thought before one of the (many) papers this week & promised myself that i will voice it out properly after the dreaded prelims are done so here i am:

i think the exam hall epitomises the concept of loneliness. i remember thinking to myself everytime i entered the ish for another paper (another battle) that i have become so accustomed to the coldness of the hall, the coldness of human interactions borne out of examination propriety, the coldness of my own heart when i feel so alone in my struggles (my fear of failures, fear of forgetting two years worth of important concepts etc). (yet i know that i am not alone in these sentiments, but we are unable to band together & seek solace in each other bc we are trapped within the high walls of the hall- underneath the hawk-eyed gazes of our invigilators, & even within the cages of our own hearts that are paralysed by the dull heaviness of fear)   

how lonely we all are when the clock momentarily but suddenly becomes the most consequential thing in the world, how lonely we all are when we are all fighting our battles alone (mortally bc i still believe in Christ & his promises) & pitting ourselves against time & knowledge - man vs paper, man vs time, man vs fear, man vs defeat.

how lonely we all are when the feeling of defeat creeps into our chests bc we know that we can't save ourselves (at least for that particular paper in question) & we consequently feel like screaming & running away - but we stay rooted to our chairs, forced to push on bc of the exam regulations that we have been ingrained to adhere to.  

this form of loneliness is (in my opinion) the most acute bc we are rendered completely helpless - we want to run away from the source but we are instead haplessly entrapped in the present both physically & psychologically, without rest. 

11:12 p.m & it has suddenly started pouring - i think the rain understands & agrees with me too

one life, ten books

got tagged by jj on fb to make a list of ten books that have "stayed with me in some way" or another. i was originally planning to fend off the urge to spend my precious time on  "frivolous" (in this context where prelims begin again in three days & i am kind of in a panic again) things like these but i realised that hey, getting to talk about books that have affected me is not inconsequential at all just bc they mean something to me- or perhaps even form part of my psyche (importance is relative haha), & also bc i am perhaps one of the most capricious people when it comes to things that interest me, so here it goes: (ps. they are not supposed to be ranked)

1. pride & prejudice (jane austen) 

(this classic will forever have a special place in my heart bc it epitomises the best memories i ever had of 2k12, & perhaps even the hallmark of my friendship with bunny j - i can still remember how while wiping plates at one of the most terrible places ever, we passed time by memorising elizabeth bennet's witty retorts to fitzwilliam darcy - "from the very beginning, from the first moment i may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, & your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike." [that is purely from memory, & i only got a few connecting words wrong - which is just telling of how this book has stuck with me even though it has been almost two years]) 

2. age of innocence (edith wharton) 

(i haven't really studied this for my upcoming lit paper on monday, which makes me extremely uncomfortable opps [bc hist is being an absolute asbjadndd] but the point is that sometimes, newland archer becomes more than a character but takes on the form an embodiment - his struggles become mine & they start to fade into each other & take on the same faces. & have i shared with anyone that it secretly pleases me when people cannot understand newland & even dismiss him as having "stupid thoughts", or negate him as merely a "confused man" bc that is exactly what he is, he is confused & his actions are probably stupid & unpragmatic in the eyes of the world -they must be thinking, why not, why not gratify-but what he does is probably going to be the same course of action i will take, if i had been in his shoes.) 

3. the bell jar (sylvia plath) 

(honestly, when i read this last year, it was completely beyond me & i felt like i was not even grasping a fraction of plath's emotional breakdown at all - but for those parts that i think i did, i think i could sympathise - & perhaps in my most feverish moments, even empathise with, albeit to a certain extent) 

4. the unbearable lightness of being (milan kundera) 

(this book made me understand myself alittle better, it made me feel more human - more fallible, more vulnerable, more easily susceptible to temptations, & in doing so, made me alittle sad - but it made me understand something that had hitherto always puzzled me for awhile i.e. vertigo (the fear of falling), & how vertigo can actually still be paradoxically alluring in certain seasons of my life) 

5. lady windermere's fan (oscar wilde) 

(i am honestly not a huge fan of this play, but i still chose it bc lady windermere's phrase has stuck with me ever since my eyes have glossed over it i.e. "we all have ideals in life. at least we all should have...if i lost my ideals, i should lose everything.") 

6. mrs warren's profession (george bernard shaw) 

(again, this play is definitely not a personal favourite at all bc none of the characters are actually likable - & perhaps shaw even meant it to be that way bc they mirror the real world so well, with all its failings- but to a certain extent, i can identify with vivie warren, especially when she attempts to assert her individuality as a "new woman" on a continuous basis.) 

7. housekeeping (marilynne robinson) 

(this book was so alarmingly acute in distilling feelings of loneliness that i would & still sometimes feel on certain melancholic nights, & i really love how it gives voice to the feelings that i could never have expressed in my own words. also, i really like how this is one of the rare books that does not include a male character, or express a need for one. i am not condemning pride & prejudice or any other classics that paint the main male lead as prince charming, but it was nice reading a book that is solely about the self & nothing else.) 

8. brave new world (aldous huxley) 

(when i read this in december last year, i felt rather perturbed imagining a dystopian world where the individual is fully stripped of his right to choose-  & in doing so it reminded me then that it is still a blessing to be able to choose, even when faced with unfavorable choices.) 

9. extremely loud & incredibly close (jonathan safran foer) 

(i really liked this book bc for once, i read a book that placed me right smack in the middle of oscar's thought process - it felt nice being in someone's head for awhile, & vicariously experiencing what it feels like to think aloud also helped me to achieve greater clarity in my own thought processes too. also, the movie made me cry buckets like i have never ever done before, so i guess it definitely fits into the criteria of "affected" & "stayed with me".) 

10. what gives us our names (alvin pang) 

(//MENTALLY SLAPPING MYSELF for nearly forgetting to include this in my top ten list, how could i forget dear alvin pang// for reasons most apparent [if you have been following through my recent blogposts], you will know why :-) for those who are clueless, basically when he came to my school for a lit workshop & signed on my copy of his book - twice- [twice bc i went for the same workshop in 2k13] i literally could not stop smiling the entire freaking day bc interacting with him just made me feel like i had flowers blooming out of my heart. but coming back, yes, i really liked this book bc it very wittily personifies every single value (or human-related attribute) i.e. kindness, generosity, community etc & gives them life to the point that i actually really wanted to meet them in person when i read it.) 

time count: i took one hour & seventeen minutes to do this list & my rational self is screaming at me for being such a poor timekeeper bc the india-pakistan conflict awaits to be diffused into my brain 

but i do not regret (i think) bc i really enjoy(ed) talking about things that matter to me

p.s i didn't want to put this up on such an impersonal & public platform like fb bc this feels almost like a piece of me, so if you are reading this on my blog bc you actually want to know more about me, thank you for that kind person 

expend

today while making my own decolonisation notes for paper II history, i came across this phrase i.e. "indonesia's republican army expended dutch resources" & i think i can finally empathise with the dutch bc something in me keeps whispering "expend, expend, expend" & with every whispered breath i feel like i have punctured a hole in my being -  that it will only be a mere couple of minutes more before someone finds me deflated & melted into a puddle of lassitude (if it had a corporeal form), mangled & spread thin.

(perhaps it is 1.19a.m in the morning & my brain is all over the place again)

(i promised myself that in this season, i will only focus on getting my studies right - but it is in spare pockets of time during late nights like these that my malfunctioning brain keeps going back to the angel who defeats the grave, "smooths our hair, and brings us wild strawberries". it is in times like these that newland archer becomes more than a character & takes the form of an embodiment - in times like these i think i can feel the dull ache that he feels from missing "the flower of life", except that i know it is only the nostalgia that i do miss)    

anthem

You will lift my head above the mighty waves, 

You are able to keep me from stumbling,

& in my weakness You are the strength that comes from within,

good shepherd of my soul

take my hand & lead me on 

come & coexist

reminder to self that languidness & happiness are not mutually exclusive

calendar girl, who is lost to the world, stay alive

january, february, march, april, may, i'm alive

june, july august - 

"this place is a shelter"

this is a place of unadulterated quietness - the queer kind of quietness that emanates when the lift door closes in a crowded place & inhibits your breathing space: you are entrapped, but the feeling of safety anchors your soul & you feel claustrophobic no longer.

this is quietness that is borne from a feeling of rest - that is birthed from hope, not resignation.

this is quietness that carries you out to sea & swallows you whole - but you float instead of fight, & avail yourself to be eaten whole.

this is the kind of quietness that is gentle & yet demands to be heard,
the kind of quietness that is of the heart & cannot be simulated, nor replicated
on whim.

this is the quietness of hope.

(87 days, but You are my quietness; You are my Hope)  

+65 tunes

(bc i couldn't find it in me to study after eleven & i was feeling impulsive as heck - but ahh did it make me feel really happy)

sinking // floating

some days i wake up with this sinking feeling in my chest & feel like i really am not going to make it.

(but I will call upon Your name // & keep my eyes above the waves // when oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace // for I am Yours, & You are mine 

spirit lead me where my trust is without borders)

i really cannot do this alone. 

"the world is unfinished"

i am so prolific with happiness that i feel like i can implode - & should i burst like confetti (hypothetically) out of this rare overflow (& in doing so, self-destruct), i feel like for once, my soul will not despair at the remnants of what is left of me, but will rejoice at the convivial scatter of colourful streamers that serve to commemorate a happy death.

alvin pang's short workshop today (held in sch) was so incredibly inspirational - maybe because Passion was an esteemed guest & its aura had diffused into the valves of my heart. i really enjoyed seeing passion & invincibility exude from his personality & outlook not only on literature - but on life in general i.e. to make a future for yourself rather than wait for it passively, as if opportunities fell from the sky - like shells in a war. i don't even know him personally (unless today's short chat counts) but i really felt a sense of ineffable camaraderie, i really did (or maybe bc i was just excessively happy). 

i think that if he retains an arcane impression of me (in the long run, which i highly doubt but-), it will be a vague memory of a sheepish girl handing him his book to be autographed twice. it was incredibly embarrassing but i am so glad that i had managed to pull a counterfeit, thicker skin over my reddening face & get the task done. as i watched him sign on another page of the same book (that i had previously asked him for an autograph a yr+ ago), i felt so inexplicably consumed by happiness - i was so full, so satiated, i really thought that i could have choked on breathing in happiness. (happiness comes in many different shades but this is by far my favourite kind of happiness) 

stayed back w jj & a new friend to chat for awhile with him (which was honestly pretty daunting bc he is so smart!!!!) but what made my heart sing inwardly was how seriously he took all of us - our perspectives & our ambitions. idk, maybe he is just the kind of person who can make you feel important merely by looking at you seriously in the eye & addressing your question(s), your hopes & your ambition(s). i feel more heartened about something that i have been considering for quite awhile, & today just cemented it further when he told me that if i ever joined the trade, i can "come and look for me(him)". 

this episode today effectively made my day whole - i could not stop smiling, no, beaming the moment i set foot out of the classroom. it was happiness that refused to be contained (& had no reason to be). i think perhaps people thought i was mad but i really didn't (& still don't care) what they thought bc such days are scarce & i need to live them to the fullest. 

i need to remember how i had reserved unveiling the signed book in a quiet place (with as little human interaction as possible). i felt like a child awake & bouncing in jubilee on christmas morning, eager in anticipation to unwrap a promising present.  i could not wait until home so i had carefully retrieved a.p's book from my beaten & worn out kino plastic bag (with the blue coating frayed at the edges) at the back of a relatively empty bus with charlie lim's "there is no love" in my ears. (it just felt perfect to saturate myself in everything which was what i had perceived - & still do, as perfectly sgporean). i need to remember how i had tenderly flipped through the beginning pages & felt my heart collapse in utter bliss when my eyes glossed over what he had written - albeit short & spontaneous. he wrote:

For Denise, again 

"We resort to words

the comfort of them

testing the silence

for echoes" 

i need to remember how i had run them over my tongue an innumerable amount of times until their weight had completely osmosed into my soul, & how my heart died & went to literary heaven.

p.s: also, today it struck me that "happiness" is my favourite word for describing happiness - the emotion. there may be many synonyms that may come off as more sophisticated than this seemingly incompetent adjective, but it is precisely bc of the simplicity of this word that makes it beautiful & thus fully encompasses its true meaning - afterall, happiness is often at its peak when it is unadulterated.

love

"a new command i give you: love one another. as I have loved you, so you must love one another." (john 13:34) 

"bless those who persecute you, bless & do not curse." (romans 12:14)

it!!is!!so!!incredibly!!hard!!to!!love!! & most of the time i find myself swimming in a mire of carnal thoughts; yet at the same time it reminds me so poignantly of Your unmitigated love for me that so readily negates my iniquities & turns them from scarlet to white.

lord, i make a deliberate choice to honor You,
to (try to) be set apart for, no - because of You.

lead me with Strong hands

night x loneliness

the night is either self-satiable or utterly lonely - no, this is not loneliness emanating from a void that needs & can be filled (by any human from a world that hardly cares, or cares too much). this is a kind of loneliness that does not know what it wants & knows no drugs - a type of loneliness that deliberately negates human interaction bc it knows it needs to be left alone, but does not know why or how. yes, loneliness is like a spoilt child in a tantrum: a child who thrashes his hands wildly to attract parental attention & is furious regardless of the treatment he gets.

 the night is quiet, or deafening for want of hearing

catharsis without words

catharsis from floweredfaces on 8tracks Radio.

tfios & other thoughts

today feels absolutely precious: i cannot remember a day this year where i had awoken according to the whim of my deficient body clock & not a mechanical alarm clock that greets & beckons me to face a weary new day at ungodly hours (esp in the past few days where i had forced myself up before 6am to memorise/look through notes for the morning papers ahead bc unprepared as heck)

i think i am back in the mood for some happy indie rock tunes instead of wordless playlists // !!i cannot stop dancing in my chair as i am typing this!!

anyway, was too languid from a late night out (after the last lit paper) yesterday for a coherent post & i have a visceral inclination towards documenting down my thoughts so this shall suffice as an outlet.

celebrated the end of an arduous half-week (& the preceding 3+ weeks in preparation) of term III papers with our traditional lunch/dinner movie date i.e. tfios

(as a sidenote i am not really a fan of john green's books bc i may be generalising but they seem more centered on adolescents falling in all quirky kinds of love which is not really my cup of tea but i am an avid fan of john green the vlogger bc nerdfighteria. just have to mention somewhere that i felt a surge of pride inside yesterday thinking of how madly popular tfios is in sg right now - an infinite mile away from its birthplace in a different continent. also felt really honored that i had been part of the process - albeit passive & one-sided - through watching his vlogs from the time he found out that his book was going to be made into a movie to the times of actual filming & the current reality now - on the big screen - which reminds me: i shall find a day to read tfios after the trend wears off bc personal book-reading policy)

i have queer, ill-forming eyelids today thanks to movie yesterday - the perpetrator for exhausting the water banks stored behind my eyelids. the movie was not particularly sad in a blatant-punch-in-your-face manner; rather, i think it was in a subtle kind of way that utilised the mechanism of empathy that is omnipresent in every human being?

(spoiler alert: if you haven't watched the movie, continue reading at your own risk)

i can only remember two scenes that hit me particularly hard:

the first scene was when hazel was a thirteen year old on the brink of death with water suffocating her lungs: it broke me when her mum whispered to her "it's okay honey, you can let go now." i cannot envisage the immense strength & courage it took for a deeply-attached parental figure to whisper that to a struggling child. the immensity of negating a personal longing out of a pure, unmitigated noble love - & consequently suffering so hard for it - i don't know, i imagined the knife doggedly going through her heart & it went through mine too.

the second scene that was equally sorrowful as the former was when hazel, who had waited a lifetime to meet her prized author, was cast to the ground and trampled over by his words & dishevelment. i cannot, or rather, am too cowardly to try & internalise that brokenness that she had felt (as a fictional character). ideals are something that i hold very close to my heart & seeing her ideals thrown ruthlessly against the wall & subsequently smothered into ashes -esteemed to the heavens in her head & degraded to shambles by the macabre speck of reality before her by a haggard, apathetic drunkard -i have no words to describe that except that it was utterly cruel.

it also kind of reminded me of one of my lit texts - a play rather, that i had read through for my afternoon lit paper the morning before. it reminded me of the last act in lady windermere's fan by oscar wilde - probably because the lines kept chaffing against my heart when i first read them:

lady windermere: we all have ideals in life. at least we all should have. mine is my mother.

mrs erlynne: ideals are dangerous things. realities are better. they wound, but they're better. 

lady windermere: if i lost my ideals, i should lose everything. 

perhaps this is also the reason why i am so intransigent about them & cannot seem to let them go.

coming back, i felt the movie had a couple of faults too:

1. i really didn't like the "okay?" "okay." motif in the film - maybe it is just me but the recurrent use of it cheapened the novelty, charm & most importantly the intended significance of it. it kind of reminded me of the former unceasing "forever?" "forever." exchanged between the previous couple that they themselves had found repulsive.

2. the make-out scene on the bed - inwardly i was screaming why, why do you mar the purity of the relationship & consequently cheapen your love??? must "making out" be the ultimatum that consummates a relationship???

other than the two perceived flaws mentioned about, i thought the movie was worth the time - albeit a little conventional & predictable.

support john green & crew bc that will make me happy :-)

// also, i realised something else about myself today: i can only venture to put into words ideas & thoughts that i wish to see myself as - often i only internalise & write down half of a whole - bc to do otherwise will compel me to admit the part of me that i don't wish for anyone to see - even myself.//

mortal // immortal

but i keep slipping back bc this pull feels like the gravitation of the full moon - i am the hapless sea that cannot hold itself together, the currents which cannot exert control over themselves - currents which crash against the shore but roll back into their own muck & subsequently carry themselves out to sea again

my will is like a loose polyester shower cap - it sees itself as superior to its plastic, flimsy counterparts: of which (it perceives) their roles as merely perfunctory.  

it is ambitious, proud - maybe even boastful, 

but it perpetually forgets its inherent weakness - try as it might, it can never wrap itself tightly around the head, & must, in turn, sacrifice a few locks of dry hair 

to be marred & pelted by the overhead shower. 

it is the perpetrator of soaked hair & headaches;

the lingering, nagging perturbation that keeps one awake at night, 

with eyes agape & concentrated on occasional light beams that dance on the ceiling;

or the nebulous flashbacks - of things that are merely dreamt of in the head.  

how tragic it is then, 

that i can change a deficient showercap -  

but try as i might,  i cannot change my defective will.

i used to beat myself up inside about my lack of propensity, or rather inability, to let go of my treacliness // my wanting // ideas 

but today i had this small epiphany (you know that moment when two fortuitous thoughts drift into your head & you attempt to draw a bridge between them & out of sheer luck, the bridge doesn't fall) about something i had read from housekeeping (by marilynne robinson) (thank you bunny j for recommending it was/is a really good read) a few days before & trying to suppress my inclination towards sth that i long thought i had gave proper burial to 

this made me understand why that inclination can be buried & still rise up from the dead - it is as robinson so acutely puts it, an "angel" - immortal, timeless & even to some extent, attractive.

& so the angel defeats the grave, transfigures before our very sight, "smooths our hair, and brings us wild strawberries".

(p.s: thank you jj for telling - no, in fact writing to me that my words have some weight in them) 

uninvited melancholy

listening to soft indie (which is nice for a change bc i had hitherto been listening to soundtracks/instrumentals for awhile just to purge incessant words that lose their meaning in copious amounts) & feeling melancholic for melancholy itself (honestly today has been a pretty happy day- sometimes i really cannot fathom my emotional mechanism)

but actually an introspective kind of sad makes me feel more "me".
realised only recently that i am only capable of  swinging on two ends of the spectrum - either extremely happy to the point of a (supposed) narcotic-kind of high ("supposed" bc i obviously have not taken drugs in such profuse amounts to the point of madness- not even in sickness),
or the kind of contemplative sadness that makes me feel like the only cure will & can be silence, a warm blanket & a mug of hot tea before a good, deep slumber

my uncanny emotions do not allow me to sit on a fence:
failing the two dichotomies,
i fall into a vacuum where i feel nothing
& merely drift
until the day resets itself.

second & mid-week into the june hols: i already feel trapped by my self-expectations, by the monotony of studying for the sake of my future, albeit imperative

my head keeps screaming at itself this rhetorical question:
"WHY THE HECK ARE YOU STUDYING  AND NOT LIVING"
but i ostensibly know the answer; i just can't come to terms with it (even now)

i wish i could be more disciplined, more productive & more efficient though - feel like a freaking snail that is trying to sail past a finish line but a snail doesn't have proper legs!!!

also, found a new (to me at least) way to propel my lazy-&-more-inclined-for-the-bed self to work harder for the end goal by envisaging my results slip next year & seeing in my projected vision a beautiful organised line of *inserts personal goal here*

but then a scary thought flashed through my mind & chilled my spine:

will i be able to face myself if i don't see my goals coming to fruition?

i answered myself, & the answer scares the heck out of me.
(bc how do you run away from your own skin?) 

i don't want to lose myself - neither before nor after - not ever.

//

also i journal-ed this a couple of days before (after midnight): (i believe it was the night after a really good service)

--
do you know what a claustrophobic needs more than an escape
from the four walls that become her world?

she needs God, 
who can give her both a literal
& figurative escape.
no, not by running away before the walls swallow her alive - 
but by speaking truth into these enclosing four walls
& watching them open like the limp flaps of a cardboard carton
to a brave, newer world,
& in so doing escape from the plethora of emotions
that have hitherto plagued & identified with her 

today will be the last day
she will live as a claustrophobic.

--

today i also realised that this is a merely wall in itself - an ideal, albeit valiant but still made of the same cement, the same bricks & even the same mortar

today, she merely dreams up the vastness of the sky 

home

i didn't understand yesterday, but today i do.

felt like a mangled mess of emotions yesterday standing amid a crowd that seemed so happy & released. emotions are a queer thing. sometimes they come like an impudent wave- sudden & insuperable. they hold you hostage without you comprehending how they came about or why they came, but all that you can comprehend is the feeling of entrapment - that feeling that makes you feel incredibly small & alone.

but today i understand why.

i was wrong.
home is not "in my own psyche / in my own skin". 
i felt so torn yesterday precisely because i had asserted the notion of individuality & imposed it upon myself, time & again - hoping that somehow that would make me strong, as if the cycle of re-enacting the notion of "me" would make me merely "me" again.
i asserted & lost it, tried to find it again & lost it, again.
i felt like i had lost what i had hitherto constructed for myself, & as a result i lost myself amid the cycle of internal hide & seek.

i used this to counter my propensity for idealism, but what i had failed to realise was that this weapon is also made of the same blood as my enmity- that they are all one & the same, that they are all shams built upon the foundation of more shams

home is not "in my own psyche / in my own skin".
home is in Your own psyche, in Your own skin.

home is being clothed with everything that is of You:
home is Your sufficiency;
home is trusting without comprehension despite the myriad of emotions that threatens to collapse my insides

home is trusting that You are invincible,
not me.

fleeting

just scribbled down today's lovely evening/night in a note & inserted (yet another) piece of my life in my "jar of felicitous bones": perhaps this is my attempt at consolidating the day's events into something concrete, something permanent, something that is wholly contradictory to the fleetingness of time

do you ever miss a moment even before it is gone?

missing a moment in itself is like holding in a single palm both bliss & vacuity - the hapless feeling of watching & feeling sand slipping through your fingers, when all that you can do is to merely gape at the small spectacle unfolding & think "this is now & now is gone; i am here, not over there" 

sometimes i wish that i could scoop up (with my arms) the moment(s) before me & tuck it (them) safely in my pocket; sometimes its (their) fleetingness haunt(s) me even before i can fully appreciate the moment(s) & embrace it (them) 

i wish my eyes were the camera shutters that take in everything but never forget, like how a photograph can never disown itself because memories may elude the people in the photograph but it still never forgets 

but i can't do either 

& so i will just continue to live for the future (it is so easy to say "live for the present" but find yourself unable to act on it because you are trapped in the future), to jot down memories & attempt to make them concrete (albeit slightly lost in translation) by giving them faces (through words) & stay thankful for the memories that are worth preserving 

//

also was doing abit of revision for "the age of innocence" (because alvls come full circle & y5 work then becomes equally relevant) 

realised i have not lost my enchantment for the ending - indeed i do agree with a particular yt comment that says "it could not have ended any other way" 

no, contrary to people's perceptions of me i do not like sad endings 

but you have to understand that this ending had to end the way it did 

because ideals & real life are irreconcilable in an imperfect world - archer would not have marred his vision with the cruel, macabre speck of reality or even the probable reality of finding out that his ideals tucked in his treasure trove were nothing but shams 

& neither will i

( i have already given them proper burial) 

minutes to eighteen

reminder that you can only be seventeen going on eighteen once in a lifetime

count-down: one hour & fourty-eight minutes

this feels so queer. somehow the word "eighteen" when put into context instills a kind of nebulous fear that is mingled with exhilaration - an expectancy of the unexpected,

as if the coming of age forces me to face the unknown - to look into the mouth of an unexplored cave that may hold treasure (& danger).

my dreams are in my backpack - i carry them upon my shoulders.

count-down: one hour & fourty-three minutes

i am armored. let's do this thing named "future".

dichotomy: -> ??? <-

the duality of dreams:

impel; expel,

pull or a push - 

no, they are unseemingly

simultaneous.

sense of loss

wherefore art thou present 

for the future?

my heart sinks, 

as though it is

payment

in advance

for impending failure.

hustle: the green light

is still beckoning. 

7.40 a.m.

7.40 a.m. 

morning thoughts penned down (on my ipod) during the walk from the train station to the school's parade square: 

thoughts that had breathed "i am invincible, i am invincible", thoughts that had made me smile inwardly, thoughts that were borne out of a fortuitous yet simultaneous series of events 

 //

"this is a place i feel like home": 
home is 
in my own psyche/
in my own skin. 
yes, i am home indeed.

i exist for my own self;
yes, individuality is home.

home is realising that this  
is merely a shadow 
that is ephemeral, 
that will mean nothing soon.

i am home 

impasse

the bricks are tantamount to the fleetingness of time.

not too long ago, the building had merely been soil;

but it is now of corporeal structure.

yet i - the epitome of an impasse 

am still like a ship

entrenched in shallow waters.

leap // lightness

why?

perhaps the most preeminent & austere reason why is that i don't want to be scared anymore

i want to be david in the presence of goliath- no, more than that, i want to befriend the giant that has hitherto been plaguing my self-esteem like weeds in its parasitic nature

i want to rediscover the joy in living (via enjoying what i am doing given the current parameters of my life), & the only way to do that before time becomes a hostile nemesis is to sacrifice smaller ideals with faith that it will translate into the fulfillment of bigger ideals in the long run

!!i.have.decided.&.there.will.be.no.turning.back!!

(this really reminds me of z's hxh draft about "gravity" [that is still in the end-process of editorial work]: a fusion of her words & mine have been haunting me ever since this issue had impudently elbowed its way into all of my thoughts this morning  i.e. gravity as a "shackle", "leap of faith", "gravity has no hold over god" - am i abnormal if this makes me strangely pleased??)

pretentiousness

was just contemplating about life in general in the shower:

replayed in the recesses of my head things & topics of conversations over the past few days, & one word that stood out like a sore thumb was "pretentiousness"

the notion of "pretentiousness" has been a frequent friend in "didactic" conversations; often we've heard and even participated in boxing up a particular person in that category on the pretext of something she/he has done - the irony being we become part of the monster we condemn that person to be

but beyond that level of pretentiousness comes the question of self-identity

today i've been hit hard by that epiphany that i actually do not really know who i am, or what i like  

by reevaluating the choices that i've made, the preferences that i have accustomed myself to liking, it suddenly hit me like an impudent wave that the continuous creation of self is shaped by influences that are not borne out of one's own psyche, and that we build our identity - that is, our preferences that shape who we are, on striving to be someone else that fits our ideals

do i like reading because it's visceral, because it's innate? or do i like reading because i aspire to be an ideal, because i aspire to one day be able to write a tiny fraction of what plath was capable of doing (for example)

is my increasing passion for the local music scene borne out of my inherent inclination towards local products, or because 1. my scope of influences have shaped me thus 2. support for the local music scene is unconventional and i aspire to be unconventional

we've (or for fear of oversimplification - i've) built the fundamentals of the components of "me" on the ideals, on the backbones of others

so who am i?
who are you? at the core?

it frightens me because i really don't know who i'll be without my environment
that makes me pretentious, doesn't it? i am constantly pretending to be someone else higher/cooler/smarter etc that i become that fusion of strivings

strip me to the core & i am actually nobody in a vacuous, physical body titled "denise"
& that scares the hell out of me

(also ricocheting between disgust for consumerism & the need to look & feel attractive, which is quite a terrible place to be at)

i really can't do this on my own

lord, save me before these giants swallow me whole - before this boulder titled "lacking" crushes my psyche & leaves me apathetic 

strangely liberating

tonight is a charlie lim kind of night (thanks bunny j) and also a rare night where i feel like i can be invincible again

as this weekend draws to a close it has been (in retrospect) a profligate weekend characterised by an all-time low productivity level, even as cts inch closer with every wasteful second 

 but it has simultaneously been one of the most liberating weekends since 2k14 

three things happened this weekend that made my heart sing 

1. getting one step closer to internalising what god's munificent grace means

felt so languid from falling/ failing prior to service. i had forgotten- or rather chose not to remind myself, out of pride - that i am accepted solely on the basis of who christ is- not what i have done/will do. on the walk to church, i just kept telling god that i really needed to hear him speak into my life, that i needed him to straighten the crooked parts of my life like the pair of retainers i put on every night. during worship, i was swimming in my own mire of inadequacies (no, drowning was the word), wrestling between going & hiding from the face of god. i was so deficient in grace but it was then that sherman said he sensed a group of people in dire need of grace & opened the altar for a reconciliation with that satiable grace. instinctively, my heart started hammering & it was then i knew that god had pounded on my heart - all i had to do was to open that door. answering that call brought a flood of peace, restoration and most of all freedom. the veil that had separated me from Love had once again been torn, ripped from bottom up. 

forever he is glorified, forever he is lifted high, forever he is risen 

he is alive    

2. dance ministry

it was a spontaneous decision yet my heart could not stop singing after i had completed and submitted the form

felt strangely liberated even though i was/am (in a sense) tying myself down to another "baggage" of commitment, in all honesty i am still intimidated by commitment but it has never been about me and how can i offer something up that costs me nothing? 

3. goal - dream 

thur's uk schools mini-fair left me feeling vacuous when it hit me that i didn't know what i wanted to do with life. the lack of a goal i.e. lightness condemned me to the status of a drifter- people had dreams to work towards but i didn't even have a dream- what did that make me? 

tonight i finally have a dream that is (relatively) realistic and idealistic all at the same time (thanks mum for working hard to figure out possible routes on my behalf) - i finally have ideas that can anchor me 

it may be an oxymoron but (finally) having a goal to work towards has unshackled me from clipped wings 

i!! finally!! think!! i!! know!! what!! i!! want!! to!! do!! with!! life!! 

(one more week to get my act together- don't really know how to go about doing it but my god is an omnipotent & omnipresent god)  

in one year's time

today i felt a fraction of what i hope i'll feel in exactly another three hundred & sixty five days: that surge of benign adrenaline coursing through my veins, that inexplicable joy bursting forth & erupting in bubbles, that preeminent invincibility at having finally accomplished something up to personal standards.

yet i know it wasn't me. He did it, His faithfulness came true, more than a year late, but nonetheless it still came true. i can finally get over the shadow of 10.1.13 that has plagued me over the past year, i can finally vindicate myself from its accusation that i am an unequivocal lack.

dug out my journal entry from 10.1.13, here are fragments of my brokenness:

"let me know You are journeying this with me every step in the way"
"this too, shall pass"
"lord, can You be strong for me?"
"there's so much sadness trapped in my system & it's inexhaustible i cannot even cry it out"

i remember how amidst the joyous faces, mine was tear-stricken, i remember wrestling with myself & god, i remember feeling like my insides had collapsed & given way to a cavern

now
i need to remember how good it felt & replicate it in its full-fledged glory this time, next year;
i want to be able to say that i have absolutely no regrets;
i want the only kind of tears to be those borne out of visceral joy

witnessed a myriad of facial expressions that sent my palpitating heart on a roller coaster ride: stoic faces, teary faces, beaming faces

i am not ready for the year ahead
but faithfulness cannot disown Himself

isaiah 55:8-9

to forget / to remember

yesterday:
(take five 2014)

with legs ankle-deep in the phlegmatic sea & feet feeling the texture of damp sand, i back-faced a crowd of fortuitous drifters & tried to case myself up like an ancient relic for a private, solitary moment.

eyes closed: i was ready

rock music was blasting in the background but all that was ringing in my ears was what i'd read from an article of thought catalog - the words that are easy to utter but difficult to act upon

delete delete delete delete d e l e t e

for my own sake i had to let go of my treacliness, for my own sake i had to kill the ideas that had been borne out of my being, the very ideas that were toxic, that were like weeds wrapped around my throat

yet these weeds were special. they were perfumed; they were delicate; they were beautiful. even though i knew they strangled me, they felt like part of my psyche - they made me feel alive.

one by one, i pulled them at the roots, from the roots.
if our eyes were cameras and  memories could be completely captured in a roll of film, i pictured myself setting it alight from the starting end. i watched the hungry flames devour everything in its path; i heard them echo "delete" as everything smothered into ashes & their remains were languidly carried away by the sea breeze.

delete delete d e l e t e. slowly i felt my insides lighten, i felt a smile hovering on my lips, i felt like i could finally feel invincible again. if vacuity was what it took to secure a sense of closure, then i rather lightness than heavy ideas built on shams.

there will be no turning back & i pray that You will seal this work with Your hands.

//

tuesday:
(last day of kaleidos'14 & onite)

felt such an acute lassitude by day four i thought i was ready to crumble into a heap but i need to remember how alive i felt when we emerged from the glass doors & strutted down the aisle as a comm during the onite item. i need to remember that inexplicable happiness i felt during our last onite rehearsal where everyone was so dead we were alive- how we laughed at every single thing (that wasn't funny) because we were all on a high, how i just collapsed on the floor & nearly streaked tears when fs did ringalinga with a gigantic axe & gun prop picked up from backstage, how r went hysterical because jj said oolong tea was "water with a taste" - i wish i could pen all these memories down but they lose their essence when translated into words.

i need to remember how goosebumps erupted from my arms when i watched the competitors of dance-off regurgitate the batch dances - our dances that were birthed from scratch since late november 2013, how i unconsciously shrank because of "the feels" - how memories,dating from snd's first dry run where we learnt one another's choreography to the filming of the batch dances at sentosa's boardwalk, replayed themselves in my head.

i need to remember the warmth emanating from og dinners with hh04 - how they so sweetly treated us to pizza on the last day, how b & i completely yolo-ed & killed our already wonky throats by devouring more pizza slices and downing them with pepsi, how our "truth & truth" (because there was not a soul besides us to spring a dare on) session became more of a subtle (but nonetheless) heart to heart talk about insecurities/bgr, how the tranquil and dim backdrop of the playground where we hung out was just perfect for the last dinner together (in a long, long while).

kaleidos'14 was the perpetrator for (my missing of) five days of classes, a beaten health that is still in the progress of recuperation, more than three weeks worth of late nights- but in return i got so much more: the intangible, small things that allow me to say that i have indeed, lived, even if it was just for awhile.

february

hello february: 

as orientation'14 inches closer i feel like my hands are increasingly ladened with a myriad of mutually-exclusive things all demanding my immediate attention. i am a mediocre juggler - the effort it takes to keep up makes me languid, but i thank god that i believe in what i am doing & i honestly wouldn't have it any other way. january/february (i speak for the future) without late nights spent with snd polishing up different dances for different purposes would/will not have been real -would indeed have been vacuous without this group of lovely people so munificent with their love & laughter :-) 

//

catch-up lunch with one in a million today (squeezed out time between snd practice) before the guys enlist for army was so blessed :-') honestly haven't laughed so hard for a long, long time and lunch today was just the epitome of a happy time; but what made my heart sing above all was when we said grace together before we ate - always feels good when god comes true in the littlest ways amongst a supposedly secular group of people.

//

these coming two weeks will be madness, but i know they will be so worth it.  

psalm 23: 

"He makes me to lie down in green pastures; 

He leads me beside the still waters"  

languid

it's only january and i already feel so spent

i think j2 takes things to a whole new level: new set of stringent expectations from self on self, keep reminding myself that there is no need to strive because of my identity in christ but sometimes the line blurs between constant self-improvement and an unequivocal lack.

day six // in progress of pulling back those translucent curtains that obscure necessary ugliness  // there is a certain tragic irony when the only way to forget is to remember- to deliberately rub oil on a lacerated wound and remember the reason for eschewal, and to know that this will benefit in the long run - and i take heart in knowing that i am not alone

also keep forgetting to live in the moment in the midst of shuffling from one relentless activity to another, it's like i have to inwardly shout at myself most of the time to stop existing and start living, to appreciate the small beautiful things, to play my favourite tunes from 8tracks/ipod and pretend that i am invincible once again, to remember the things that i love and do them well- the fact that i forget is really telling of how i am merely just drifting.

last day of juggling tutorials with the dreaded sats, it's been exhausting carrying a balancing scale that never reaches an equilibrium on my shoulders

i am pretty messed up for sats & basically everything school related, but i have a Hope
& that Hope is an anchor for my soul

You are enough

my eyes are closing but i feel compelled to pen down these thoughts & internalize them in the process before they drift out of the recesses of my head (prospects that your heart isn't fully convinced about do not wait long to leave) 

1. ideals are shams (wake up sleeper)

2. seek not the product of the maker but the maker Himself: to chase only after the Father's heart 

3. lord, have my heart, have it all 

4. to be stoic to everyone except You

2k14 will be arduous (first week of sch feels like it has already been three terms) but psalm 23 shall be my armour

& nothing formed against me shall stand