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.


On identity
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.

On Christianity
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.

On dreams
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.


On melancholy
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.

On language
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.

On politics
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?

On society
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.

On philosophy
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.


Sunday, June 24, 2007

Comfy chairs are a bit too nice for me. please don't let my chair be too nice.

i'm at YA camp. communion has just started. the people in the front rows are filing forward. they're gonna take communion and get prayed for. i'm blogging. at the back. while waiting for my turn. i'm sitting on the floor, and behind me is a chair. a comfy chair. the chair i fell asleep in just now as matthew 7 drew to a close.

don't let my chair be too nice. i don't want to be taken in to a cushion, i want to be taken in by something more radical than sponge. and if i were to rest, don't let it be a velvet throne, let me rest on the lap of something like fulfilment, or joy, or satisfaction. if i sleep, don't let it be because i'm still so sleepy, let me at least be weary from some kind of work.

but don't let me fall asleep on a comfy chair, that's not what i really want. if i ever tell you otherwise, please tell me otherwise. tell me that the real face of God is on a marginalised someone, not trapped in a bookcase. tell me that some beds aren't soft, tell me i'm not home, just don't let me sleep before i'm weary.

john lennon said, "i don't want to be a soldier, i don't wanna die". too bad for him. i want to be a soldier. soldiers fight because they won't take a breach lying down. so don't let me lie down.


Genusfrog [ 12:06 pm ]


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