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.
Monday, December 03, 2007
ATLAS AND JESUS
Atlas and Jesus both had heavy loads. one bore the world and the other its sins. both are often pictured hunched, burdened by the weight on their shoulders.
but that's about it. atlas, in all his celestial splendour, looks nothing like the jesus who was disfigured and "marred beyond human likeness". atlas isn't going anywhere with the load on his back- he just seems to stand there, keeping everything afloat. but jesus is going somewhere. he is stumbling forward with his cross because he has a destination. and while both carried their respective weights as punishment, something tells me that only one of them was carrying it out of love.
i've been carrying a load on my back this whole year. it's not been fun. sometimes, i feel a bit like both atlas and jesus: the atlas bit is the bit where he goes nowhere with his burden, holding up the responsibility of his own actions; the jesus part is the bit about being marred beyond recognition. some days, my spirit feels marred like that.
but after twelve months of weightlifting, it's definitely been too much atlas and too little jesus. and the operative difference here is that there is no love in the hoisting of my self-imposed yoke. at some point, i fell out of love and it's felt every bit like zeus telling me to go stand in a corner since.
there ought to be love.
there ought to be a lot more love than this.
and there's much to be hopeful if it's a cross i'm carrying and not the celestial heavens. i'm dreading the bit where i get nailed to my cross and spat at but that's the only way to get the bad shit out of the way before the better days roll back in. as for atlas, man, i don't wanna be standing around forever.
not like that, geddit? not like that.
Labels: christianity, survival
11:17 am ]