rest in peace, mr lee kuan yew

"integrity of life is fame's best friend, which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end." 

(duchess of malfi, john webster) 

i am thankful for my education that has enabled me to internalise the extent of his contributions to singapore; but more importantly, i am so immensely thankful that his wholehearted & passionate devotion to building up this country has even enabled me this education in the first place. 

thank you mr. lee, for epitomising the integrity of life with such a fierce passion that it inspires me to emulate in your footsteps. as i've taken away from literature classes last year: even though death is universal & "...all things have their end", the honest mourning of the entire nation stands as a testament to your greatness, which "nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end."    

on reading // (kickass) j.w. quotes

haven't posted in awhile & i was just pondering over why i have a natural inclination towards reading (possible interview q) so here are some beautiful jeanette winterson quotes i took down while reading "why be happy when you could be normal" while listening to some kickass xolo (btw the book title is more apt than it seems bc that was what j.w's mother told her wrt to her sexuality !!!)

“i believe in fiction and the power of stories because that way we speak in tongues. we are not silenced. all of us, when in deep trauma, find we hesitate, we stammer; there are long pauses in our speech. the thing is stuck. 

we get our language back through the languages of others. we can turn to the poem. we can open the book. somebody has been there for us and deep-dived the words.” (9)

"a tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is. that is what literature offers - a language powerful enough to say how it is.

it isn’t a hiding place. it is a finding place." (40)

“i had lines inside of me- a string of guiding lights. i had language.

fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. what they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination. i had been damaged and a very important  part of me had been destroyed - that was my reality, the facts of my life; but on the other side of the facts was who i could be, how i could feel, and as long as i had words for that, images for that, stories for that, then i wasn’t lost.” (40) 

“it took me a long time to realise that there are two kinds of writing; the one you write and the one that writes you. the one that writes you is dangerous. you go where you don’t want to go. you look where you don’t want to look.” (54)

“books, for me, are a home. books don’t make a home - they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space. 

there is warmth there too - a hearth. i sit down with a book and i am warm. i know that from the chilly nights on the doorstep.” (61)

“her suffering was her armour. gradually it became her skin. then she could not take it off. she died without painkillers and in pain.” (69) 

“on the top of the hill looking out over the town i wanted to see further than anybody had seen. that wasn’t arrogance; it was desire. i was all desire, desire for life. 

and i was lonely. 

mrs winterson had succeeded there ; her own loneliness, impossible to breach, had begun to wall us all in.” (105)

also j.w. words, so astutely, my idealistic (& unhealthy) perspective on love: 

“when i walked away that night i was yearning for love and loyalty. the wide yearning of my nature had to funnel through a narrow neck - it went into the idea of “the other”, the almost twin, who would be so near to me but not me. a plato-like split of a complete being. we would find each other one day - and then everything would be all right. 

i had to believe that - how else would i have coped? and yet i was heading for the dangerous losses that “all or nothing” love demands.” (120) 

finding my language through the words of others is why.

a failed revolt

but what am i so afraid of? of peaking? of losing out & missing any prized opportunity that will come my way? why am i so terrified of comparison - no, why am i so afraid of faring poorer than someone - anybody - else, that everything must become a competition, a race that i must eventually emerge victorious, even if the yardstick of victory is relative?

the line is blurring between trying & trying for the sake of it - half the time i don't even know why i am chasing after something when i know full well that prestige may be grandiose but is ultimately poor fuel. or perhaps the line has already been blurred.

also, is passion alone sufficient to survive? this brings up the question that infuriates me: why am i going to spend four years closely examining a specific discipline & spiritually wasting away my hours to satisfy/benefit a corporation in the future which i currently do not even have a clue about??? of course i already know the answer (which makes this a rhetorical question) & also do acknowledge that perhaps this itself is birthed out of self-benefit but i just have to put an aimless lament out here to justify this rising indignation chafing against my chest. how i wish to outwardly protest that "i will not bow down to society's demands !!!" but truth is i am already on all fours in preparation for the revered emperor to make his way through the palace gates.

it has been a week since results day & i feel intimidated by the power of that single slip of paper - or rather the power of knowing the alphabets on that slip of paper. it feels like so much has transformed ever since, & i am almost like a different person now.

give and take

god did not gift me with the miracle that would have left the most apparent mark of his grace i.e. turning my weakest subject into a glorious, arrow-pointing alphabet,

but the rest still remains a testament of his faithfulness.

(i take heart in the fact that i am where he ordains me to be, even if it has hitherto been quite a humbling experience) (maybe learning to live with a blight in perfection, at an absolutely consequential juncture, is the first lesson.) 

-

~ 2am feels but good voices really do get to me ~ (somehow it seemed improper to announce this on a blatant social media platform like twitter so i am at my public refuge once again) (also, a not-so tacit admission that it has always been my little dream to sing tgt with a special someone in the future, & perhaps this is the year to start keeping my eyes peeled) 

remembering faithfulness

a rare, late night solitary worship with songs that had tided me through the arduous 2k14, songs that had reminded me then to look up from my own limited hands. 

it is as if i have been transported back into that specific period of time: bethel tunes softly emanating from the bedside speaker; the dim glow from the lamp illuminating the room & consequently dispelling the shroud of morning darkness; the occasional, solemn declarations against engulfing spasms of fear. they bring me back to the posture of absolute surrender that i have already forgotten - 4.45 am moments reserved for remembering the One who always went (& will always go) ahead of me (before burying myself in dreadful, last-minute memorisation tasks of notes that i had hitherto not even looked through, all the way until breakfast/the ominous journey towards the ish.) 

it is so convenient to forget Your faithfulness, especially when these memories are clouded by the haze of retrospect - but as for tonight/this morning, i will remember still, 

& i will give my thanks. 

all hail jap lit part III

i can hardly contain myself electronically leafing through book despository at nearly 2am in the morning without feeling the urge to add every single jap lit book that i don't own to my cart; maybe it is the night that makes me incredibly sentimental all over again but my heart is crying out with love for this beautiful, almost incorporeal creature which has impressed itself on my heart more than any guy has (ever) done so in probably my life time. (i think its subtlety is like poison that kills me inside slowly)

chanced upon this quote in my infatuation & the effect on myself was like a single spark on kerosene:

"time is what matters. as time goes by, you & i will be carried inexorably into the mainstream of our period, even though we're unaware of what it is. and later, when they say that young men in the early taisho era thought, dressed, talked in such & such a way, they'll be talking about you & me. we'll all be lumped together....in a few decades, people will see you & the people you despise as one & the same, a single entity."

(spring snow, yukio mishima) 

i am still quite awed at how (specifically) jap lit astutely puts into words vague impressions/thoughts/emotions that i have never found fit to express them through my own medium - for fear that they would be misapprehended // that i would owe these ideas their due justice. it is just so incredibly beautiful?? also, just like how p&p of 2k12 was the object of camaraderie between b.j.& i, jap lit is its successor in sealing this bond of divine friendship that has lasted for over ten + years (& in faith, many more to come). in fact, the memory of our recent walk in the park at dusk with spazzkid's truly in our ears makes me feel warm now as much as it had felt surreal then) 

also, since i am at it, this is my company for the night:

IV from emmuree on 8tracks Radio.

on a sidenote: i may look apathetic about my own racial group in contrast but i promise that i am still trying to give it a chance despite the agony that emanates from the clamor of cny songs blaring from hidden speakers. i have been watching disney's mulan during my free time & i can safely say that it is easily my favourite disney movie, partly bc of the chinese element that renders it unorthodox (from other disney movies). however, i must admit that it is more so bc mulan is such a strong, independent woman & is loved for being one, which i think is really important.

p.s: forgive the abrupt change in font (again), i've tried but it turns out blogger & 8tracks are kind of incompatible tgt