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.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
MAYBE THERE IS ANOTHER WAY
"While sending you home last night, I got lost in the city. I drove for hours in the swell of roads that seemed to rearrange themselves whenever I wasn't looking. You were asleep. I drove in concentric circles in to the heart of this strange and despairing place. Eventually I found my way to your house. All you had left for me was a kiss and goodnight. And as I watched you disappear behind the doors, I thought about you and the bizarre city. And I thought, for what? For what, do I crawl my way out of this asphalt labyrinth? Just so I can part with you? Just so I can part... with you? For that alone, I consider it cruelty." - Fabrizio Bazzani, The city I love
Bazzani is right. why do we sometimes fight so hard just so that we can do something we've always dreaded doing?
is it because of duty? is it obligation? duty to whom? and what obligated it so? i've found that in life, maybe we do too many things that we'd rather not do, believing on the outside that there's no other way, but secretly knowing that there is.
8:01 am ]