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.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
My sister's wedding double ceremony has been going on and I've come to understand more clearly what I "do" and what I "don't do".
I don't do lace.
I swear, I don't (and won't) do lace. Or flowers or ribbons or, like, large sheets of cloth. I don't do little glass ornaments or things that hang from places.
I'll tell you what I do do. I do driving people to places and pulling open huge grille gates that haven't been pulled open in years. I do climbing ladders and changing bulbs and carrying chairs upstairs to downstairs. I'll do all that but please, don't give me anything with lace on it.
In my family, I get teased for not liking to handle stuff like ribbons. Nobody understands why I would opt out of a decorating session that involves weaving all these things that look like ripped stockings together. In my house, my self-imposed exclusion from a gathering like that would probably be read as laziness or being unhelpful. But I don't know how to say it because nobody understands. I just don't like to handle stuff like that. It's the texture, or the feeling. I just don't do it.
So when the duty list came out for this wedding, and the blank fields for volunteers to sign up for duties needed to be filled, I jumped in and put my name next to all the traditionally ra-ra man's jobs. It's my way of telling everyone what I want to be known for around the house, for future reference (read chinese new year 07).
Oh, and one more thing I learned. Actually, I acquired this piece of skill when I was a child - I've only just remembered to use it again now. When everyone in the house is busy doing something, and you are tired and just want to chill, don't do it where anyone can see you. However you wanna chill - with a book or a notebook - bring it into the bathroom and chill out there. Cos when everyone's busy doing something, your total absence will interpret better than your half-arsed arse.
Labels: gender, identity
3:16 am ]