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.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Goodchristianboy, this blog, is about to enter ice age. Like the cold old days where snow was everywhere, extinct animals ruled the earth and people got frozen in blocks of ice, this blog shall enter an equally prehistoric phase of existence.
It shall be an existence where Fergus had no reign over this blog but a more fearsome creature altogether - an architect childhood friend of his called Jan.
In this ice age, Fergus enters a period of confinement where his daily routine will revolve around rehearsing with actors, making phonecalls to crew people and then going on set and shouting "cut!" in the middle of perfectly good takes. And while this change of weather takes Fergus away from Goodchristianboy, the blog will be overrun by his jaw-dropping fiend of ancient famy.
Jan is an architect and we've been friends since we were six. She has been so kind as to step in and blog here while I'm away, to feed you with her inane thoughts on inane things. She's the one person who reminds me that my blog is set out to be about "ideas" and not "events" so let's see how far she breaks those rules. She's wonderful and my only fear is that you'll be so entertained by her, you won't love me so much anymore when I return.
And so, to the buddy I call my "fellow critical thinker of the arts" (it's on her friendster testimony), run riot over this snowy wasteland. The blog is all yours. I shall return when the heat melts away my cubic icy encampment and inspect the carcass of your sabre-tooth tigress.
Labels: 00moo, housekeeping
4:49 pm ]