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, May 06, 2008
In The red street diner, i wrote about a girl who goes home to discover that her hometown and family have disappeared.
after writing that, a part of my life also disappeared. it was my old blog.
goodchristianboy.modblog.com was in many ways the heyday of this corner of the internet. i remember attracting 80 hits every day, mostly from the small but supportive modblog community. it was the blog on which i started blogging.
i had a voice when i was there. i blogged about my journey of faith, philosophised about god, life and christianity and preached like a legitimate preacherboy with a pocketful of relevant verses and an altar call at the end.
modblog closed down in january 06 and along with it died my voice.
i wonder, how did i lose my voice? was it work? was it time? or growing old? maybe i started learning that christian material without the edge of cynicism came across as uncool. i stopped talking about jesus online. the blog of a flawed guy trying to get it right became the blog of a flawed guy trying hard to get it more wrong. by march 07, this place was already steeped in defeat. by july, it got about as bitter as it could get.
sometimes we lose things in life. and we replace them with new things. i found myself a home here on blogger. for the first few months, my modblog could still be viewed but i was so stupid, i never backed up my posts. i kept saying, one of these days i'll back up all those posts. one of those days became one of those weeks. one day, it just couldn't be viewed anymore. in its place, a page error.
i'd lost all my posts.
two years of my documented life, erased from the internet. maybe it was just as well. i had seemingly lost the same heart that posted them.
last night, athalia told me about something.
she told me about webarchive.org. they have this search engine there called the wayback machine and what it does is, every two months, its robots crawl all over the internet and archive web pages. it's been doing this since the 1990s.
athalia told me that it's there. that's she's found it. my modblog. she found my modblog.
today, i saw it for myself.
ripped around the edges, with pages falling off the spine, sat my modblog in the middle of some monster filing cabinet of digital garbage. some of the posts never got archived. but many of them are there. i'm not making the same mistake twice. today, i started backing them up, from 2004 onwards. i'm even reposting peoples' comments with the names they used back then.
rebuilding your past in a new home is like putting old photos behind new frames. and as i read what fergus wrote at 24, i'm starting to wonder if it's really a bunch of posts that i've recovered, or perhaps a voice that had been dead for too long.
Labels: christianity, housekeeping, identity, memory and nostalgia
4:41 pm ]