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, April 07, 2008
THE MALAYSIAN DREAM II: THE RETURN OF THE REPRESSED
Freud said that as we go through the early stages of life, we repress unpleasant things. these things have a way of creeping back, and sometimes, they show up as psychosis. he called this the return of the repressed. film academicians like to use freud to study horror films. they say that sequels are all about the return of the repressed.
now i'm not exactly going through a return of the repressed. but i'm facing a comeback that's in some small part cause for mild horror. yes, that 2.5-pronged bearded monster from the suburbs otherwise known to me as the malaysian dream has reared its head once more.
i promised myself last year that my life would never be the same again. i would live near the poor. i would stand by the discards of this world and share my food and shelter with them. i promised myself that i would live a life of revolutionary love expressed through identification with what the bible calls "the least among you".
why is it then that i catch myself lured back to the suburbs? is this temptation? if it is, i know now the very texture of that which creeps in to curtail a life of abandoned difference. it is predictability. security. normalcy.
can they coexist? i want to give my wife and kids a memorable life. a life that includes both the security of a family home and the counter-culture of identification with poverty. today, i'm asking myself: how does one do it? how do you unshackle yourself from the trappings of suburban comfort and still give your future family the kind of life that is rich in learning, assurance and safety?
in horror films, you can kill the threat as many times as you like. there's always a last shot that tells you the threat is still there. today, i'm asking myself: is the malaysian dream like the threats in horror films? the kind that keeps coming back until you sign off on a 300,000 dollar house? maybe when i do that the sequel will end. it's like the final girl getting killed by the slasher. the final girl never gets killed by the slasher. she always escapes. she always survives.
today, i'm asking myself: will i always survive?
Labels: christianity, growing old, hope, identity
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