Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Movies have terminally ruined my ability to swim at night.
Last week, i determined to go for a swim in the evening, sometime circa 7. but no thanks to another rainstorm, my determination had to be put on hold such that by the time the sky had cleared and i was still willing, it was sometime circa 8.
It's not that bad when you have people to swim with, and by that i mean people you know, people with whom you'll talk in the pool and swim together. I'm not talking about strangers in the pool, though having strangers around still helps.
But it didn't help. It didn't help that in spite of the fact that there were 3 or 4 people at any one time there, that every time i duck my head into the water, all i could see was the murky bed of the pool floor, the foggy blue tiles, the distant round dispersed lights, and this:
it was absolutely useless! i tried swimming freestyle keeping my head up on both sides, but that didn't quite work. i tried doing breaststroke with my head up the whole time, but that didn't work either. i swam backstroke for like, two laps. swimming just isn't swimming if you can't put your head underwater.
I even turned to singing. Humming in a squeezed out shiver, i feebly comforted myself with a fear-drenched rendition of "Jesus loves me this i know... (clench teeth) ... for the bible tells me so... (paddle faster)..."
Forget it. In fifteen minutes, i was out. shuddering not to the cold but to my wildest media-inspired imagination, i dragged my feet back upstairs, sighing all the way.
so to one man, i have this to say: DAMN YOU STEVEN SPIELBERG! DAMN YOU FOR RUINING MY PERFECTLY GOOD PSYCHE! YOU HORRIBLE, WICKED MAN!
10:33 am ]