the end of the affair

i did not mean to do it but i spent my entire morning sitting at a coffee shop trying to finish Graham Greene's The End of the Affair. It just got so engrossing I decidded to push aside thoughts of work.

I am floored by Greene's insight and his ability to put simple words to the tangled, complex struggle between wanting to do the right thing for God and wanting to run back to the security of the wrong things.

what an amazing work - deceiving in its brevity.

Think I shall pick up The Power and the Glory next. Wow.

The Art of Life

Was musing with RBF over dinner about life choices and how they shape the person you become. It's amazing to consider how a million tiny choices that we make moment by moment seem to edge us towards a better or worse path. Only when you look back at all the decisions you have made thus far do you suddenly see clearly how you slowly but surely created the person that you are this moment. How strange and humbling to know your "Yes" and "No" to whatever comes your way leave indentations in our clay-like selves: what kind of life, what kind of self have we sculpted ourselves into?

I always liked the analogy that our lives were like a giant carpet being woven. On one side, you can only see a crazy criss crossing patchwork of threads that seem to make no sense even though you thought you swore you wove correctly. But when you turn it around, you suddenly see the pattern in full glory and all the stuff suddenly makes sense.

Sometimes I think if God left me completely alone to paint the picture of my life with my limited imagination and limited understanding of my character, I would have made one screwy mess of it.

I can totally see how "but for the grace of God, go I".

Without God making me wise up to my inner idiot, I would have turned into one of those girls I hate. I would have become one of those awful, fashionably left-wing, liberal jerks with a smart mouth full of empty diatribes about the unenlightened of society. I would have painted my opponents with broad stereotyping strokes. I would have loudly and intelligently backed all the "right" social causes without the humble wisdom to put in the tough work required in the face of unlovable human beings. I would be a terrible, affected windbag with words of sound and fury, signifying nothing. I would have been a pretentious awful, awful person.

Without God's merciful revelation of my insecurities and healing power of Love, I would have probably gotten myself into countless flings with the worst sorts of men. I would have given up everything for a cheap semblance of affection. I would not have understood what real love looked or felt like. Though I don't really know much of her life, (and I don't want to insult or oversimplify what she has gone through) somedays I think I would not have been that far off from taking the path Annabel Chong took. I read about her and I don't feel disgust for all that she has done. I just think how realistically speaking, it would have been entirely possible for me to have decided to do the things she did. I think of her and wonder what I would say if I had the chance to have coffee wih her.

For me, without God, my life would have been mud. A long wallow in the dark, shifting quicksand.

With God, though...

...My life is on solid rock and one sure footstep after another, I know I can navigate even the most precarious lands though I see no map in sight.

...and my days are sun-kissed where even the most melancholy and tear-filled days are edged with the gold of hope.

To my fellow traveller CL, its good to know yet another who understands the taste of a life sweetened by God's timely and kindly revelations.

How good it is to be Beloved.

And better to know that the good life is already a gift within everyone's grasp.

Oh, that more should reach out and taste it for what it is.

When You're Happy and You Know It

"It won't do
to stir a deep desire,
to fan a hidden fire
that can never burn true.

I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;

But I don't know
how I would live with myself,
what I'd forgive of myself
if you don't go."

It's nearly midnight and I am clearing emails that have racked up while I was away in China. Am killing time before I can treat myself to a midnight cab ride home. Meanwhile, Suzanne Vega's Caramel is doing a honeyed, languid drift from my iTunes.

I liked Caramel the first time I heard it because Suzanne Vega's smoky voice makes it sound amazing. It's a bittersweet ode, a melancholy tribute to the cunning tangle that poor romantic choices weave around the human heart.

It would make an apt companion to Ha Jin's novel Waiting. Intrigued by how fast R and RBF had thumbed through the book in Xinjiang, I nabbed the well-thumbed copy and finished it during the hours spent in Beijing traffic.

Waiting is about frustrated romance - it's about the 18 years of waiting endured by officer Lin Kong's vibrant girlfriend Manna before he gets the divorce he has been craving for from his homely wife Shuyu. It's not a pretty tale and though nobody dies physically, they die emotionally. The realisation Lin Kong reaches about himself and his women is truly tragic. With restraint and reserve, Ha Jin paints a stark picture of how so many lives and budding romances come to be lived in quiet desperation.

In my 20s, I had throughly convinced myself I was in Love. I was too green to understand it was not Love but simply Desire. Desire can grip your heart so tightly that "having a crush" is no misnomer. Desire can crush your noblest thoughts and senses into nothingness if you let it. Desire can make such an incredible fool of you - you rejoice with crumbs; you weep in paranoia and fear; you loll around the dark mud of your insecurities; you shut your ears to truth and wrap yourself in a cocoon of martyrdom and lies.

With 30 round the corner, I think I have learned for myself how to tell Love from Desire. Love is about choice and commitment: an adult decision to give and receive both bittersweet truth and the merciful rain of kindness. Desire is simply not interested in all that. Love is Grace - a bit of heaven on earth that any of us can dispense if we humble ourselves enough.

I think I can say I have found firm ground. Somehow in the middle of a Good Friday solitary prayer in Kashgar - the kind of prayer which my 20something self would have happily let spiral into maudlin self-indulgence - I realised I have come to some strange restful place. I was pleasantly surprised to look for the usual tears and self-flagellation - and yet discover they simply were not there anymore.

It's a place between knowing - finally - exactly what I want in a man and yet trusting that it will be far better for God to keep me single than to settle for anything less. And being able to look beyond that to Love the world beyond.

It's the kind of thing you keep telling yourself in your 20s but are secretly unsure if you are not just deceiving yourself.

It's a completely different and liberating feeling to finally realise it's the truth. And that i understand and find pleasure and peace in it.

In Kashgar, I saw rows and rows of amazingly green grass crowned by apricot trees. It was still early Spring and the sharp bite of Winter was still in the air. Some of the branches were still dry and dead but oh - the promise! - the promise of Spring and Summer was pushing out in the sweetest hues of cream and pink. Those apricot trees set on grass so amazingly, vividly green have become the most beautiful thing in my mind's eye. It is a picture of Spring, and Hope and Promises Fulfilled.

The apostle Paul declared passionately "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Indeed, my dear dear God, my sweet Saviour Christ, the old has gone. And I believe, with a fresh heart, that the new has and will come for me.

I think I am happy.

And when you are happy and you know it, and you really want to show it -

- You clap your hands.

It's a rich man's world

So our local ministers are getting yet another pay hike and as predicted, the masses are rumbling about the unfairness of the whole thing. How can you read about some guy in a suit getting $2.2 million a year without feeling all crappy that you will never see that amount in a lifetime? Hey, an entire village in Somalia would probably not see that in 10 lifetimes. To feel jealous, angry, contemptuous and yet completely covetous about our millionaire ministers is a completely human thing.

I personally think they should be paid high but a possible million dollar hike is just over the top. I personally like Low Thia Kiang's sneaky suggestion that they peg minister's salaries to the poorest 20% of Singapore so there is major incentive to push the agenda of the disenfranchised, but I think it will probably not work. Perhaps pegging it to the average income earners instead?

What I WOULD like to see from the government is better PR skills. I think it is useless for them to keep trotting out the same logical, rational, intellectual arguments about why ministers should be paid well. Financial renumeration is a topic that strikes people to the heart. Like it or not, many of us peg our pay to our self worth. I think this is a habit we would do well to exorcise from our systems. Meanwhile, it is not helpful to hear the rich and mighty pontificate in cool,intellectual arguments about why they deserve the pay - because the implication is "...and you deserve yours. (Perhaps you are not trying hard enough - it's a meritocracy after all?)"

Less logic, more heart. Less talk, more action. If I had my way, scaling up the minister's pay dramatically ought to go hand in hand with policies that scale up help to the nation's poorest with equal drama.

I think some of our ministers are Christians. I would LOVE to hear such a minister talk to the people with genuine honesty about what he feels about out-earning his people by such a high percentage, without retreating behind intellectual reasons. I want to hear him just talk about his thoughts on the social responsibility that comes along with earning that amount of money and what he does with the treasures he has been allotted. It's not about justifying himself to the people. It's about showing people that there seems to be some point or some good about that much money being given away from the taxpayer's pockets. Also, I am just plain curious about the thoughts and struggles of a Christian millionaire.

I had a pretty sober conversation with SB one night about our chosen profession and hence, chosen income level. He was talking about how saddening it was to listen to students who appreciated his contribution as a teacher to their lives, see nothing wrong in talking openly about liking the idea of teaching but never wanting to do it because "the money wasn't worth it." There seemed to be complete and utter unawareness of their indictment of their teacher's choice in life to choose sacrifice over financial reward.

It was like "thanks for teaching me and making those sacrifices. I won't be doing the same though. That was your choice, not mine. Someone has to do the crappy, underpaying, noble jobs. But it's not me. Thanks anyway. :)"

Being a good teacher - or a good pastor or social worker for that matter - does not automatically result in more pay. I assume this is unlike what happens in banking, sales and the civil service. Good teachers often commit to too many unpaid overtime hours of decent marking, planning, pastoring, prepping of own material. They understand that an overstretched school budget just cannot renumerate them - so they sacrifice their own money and time for the sake of making sure children turn out into half decent human beings. I am nothing like the best of these teachers - but I try to aspire to greatness that way.

We are raising a generation of youths - Singapore HAS been raising generations of youths - that do not see wealth as a responsibility. They see it as a goal, a prize and an affirmation of one's ability. Wealth is yours because you deserve it for all the work and all your choices. Go ahead and spend it on yourself. Oh, and throw in a piddlly amount into the charity tin that will hardly add up to the amount you spend on facials or lattes in a year. Wealth is not a daily gift from God, a grace extended to you for a higher purpose. Wealth is not something you consider soberly as something that ought to be distributed and shared.


I think I earn a decent amount of money. I like to keep in mind that compared to 80% of the world - I am considered a "Have", rather than a "Have Not", born into a developed nation of realtive luxury and choice. I think I am fairly renumerated - enough to save for vacations, buy nice Christmas presents for people, give money to my mom, tithe and keep myself fairly insured. However, I still calculate what it would cost me to buy a Starbucks latte, I still check out the cheapest thing on a fancy menu and I still check out Giordano and This Fashion.

I am always thankful for the opportunity to build something meaningful. I like knowing I do not have to slave away at something I do not believe in. I know even if I was paid tons of money but had to work in something I feel nothing for, I would be vastly unhappy. Rich but quite stressed and cynical. Often, I quite appreciate my lifestyle of being fairly paid, unstressed and have-the-time-and-energy-to-not-be-cynical.

But there is always that undercurrent of covetousness that lurks underneath the confidence. It jars me when I hear people talk about how many months bonus they get or how much CPF they have accumulated over the years. Fear and covetousness - the sly little tag-team - taunt," You fool, you poor poor fool, for thinking you have enough. You think you have a decent amount of savings and earn alot? HA! Please look at your peers. Give a few more years and you will be eating the dust in your face as they race away into a life of condos, cars and endless vacations."

When I dwell on those thoughts, I feel like scum. I feel like an idiot and someone who has been made a fool. Someone who has not "grown up" and started earning "grown up money". I fall into the self same trap all the time of thinking about wealth as something I am entitled to, that "I DESERVE MORE for being this smart/educated/ qualified/hardworking". I stop thinking about wealth as something that is given to me by God - whatever amount that I have been given, I should be thankful and thoughtful about the way I use it.

I don't think you can ask the world to be Communist - there will always be people who will out-earn you, just as there will always be people who you will out-earn. If Christ was telling the truth that this world is just a big bunch of brokenness, then unfairness and imbalance is going to be there. This world sucks - it's true. But it was not meant to be that way - and Christians ought to live in anticipation of the un-sucky, fairer world that IS TO COME.

Which means for me - I have to ignore what the world's ideas about wealth are and consider soberly Christ's ideas about wealth. I should not be concerned too much about the fairness of how much I earn or be bitter about my EXTREMELY RELATIVE "poverty" (big bunches of sarcasm)

It is a gift for me to earn whatever I am earning. There is responsibility and opportunity entailed in every dollar that I earn.
I need to remember that and focus on that. And keep praying for Christians and non-Christians alike to remember the same.

What small luxury can I deny myself today that would provide so much more relative happiness for someone else?

It's a really tough question that I cannot always answer well. It's the kind of question that makes me squirm because I know the answer humbles me. I cannot keep bitching about highly paid ministers who do not care about the poor if I find it hard to talk about how I spend money myself.

I am not a smarty pants economist and just an armchair critic. I do not have numbers to back up whether high pay or average pay is good enough for ministers. I just know the problems in this world do not get solved just by thinking about how other people should live - it really and truly begins with a lifetime commitment to thinking about how I live.

If that step never gets done, all talk is just dust.

Let the ministers earn their millions: which of them uses the millions for good purposes and which of them truly deserves the millions will be revealed on the same Day that my own intentions and actions are revealed.

wanna be a cult leader?

quite a fabulous summary of how to tell if you are being brainwashed into having a religious experience :) the scary thing is the tactics probably work too well.

Life - a mystery to be lived

"I met a woman afflicted with multiple sclerosis, shockingly young, who limped up to tell me she was learning all she could about prayer because the disease was progressing so fast that soon she would be able to do little else.

I heard of suicides, birth defects, children hit by trucks, and teenagers raped. One woman, now an ordained minister, spoke of a dark period after her son died when for 18 months she could not bring herself to pray. She cried out one day, "God, I don't want to die like this, with all communication cut off!" Even so, it took her 6 more months before she could pray again.

In one meeting, a 20-year-old came to the microphone and chided me for not taking literally the Bible's promise about faith that can move mountains. I agreed I needed a larger dose of such childlike faith, yet at the same time, I could not dishonor the pain of suffering people by telling them their faith is somehow defective.

From such souls, I learn that life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived. Prayer offers no ironclad guarantees, just the certain promise that we need not live that mystery alone."

Everytime, I leave Philip Yancey, I return to find another lovely turn of phrase. I like that last paragraph.

PoP! Goes My Heart

oh 80s cheese, how i adore thee. its slightly scary how they managed to de-age hugh grant. its slightly scarier that the song is insiduously in my head. retro is evil

Ever wondered if guys think exposed bra straps are THAT big a deal?

I must say this is quite a well done website with a pretty interesting survey on what men consider immodest - the questions go into a lot of detail about what men (from various age groups) find difficult to keep their eyes off. The two guys who conducted this survey have really done some impressive homework - questions range from exposure of the small of a back, to pulling off a sweater, to slinging a bag across the chest, wearing glitter lotion etc.

The results are pretty revealing (bad pun) and the comments are candid, funny and some even moving. I learnt a couple of things myself that I would NEVER have thought would feature as a potential stumbling block.

The really nice part about this survey I guess was to know how many men out there cared enough to answer this survey and put their comments out there to guard and encourge women.

It is genuinely moving and sweet to read the encouraging comments left by so many of the men - from 16 to 45 - to let women know they care about inner beauty and genuine modesty and are open and apologetic about the ways in which they discourage women from believing any less about them.

Rabbit Steeple Chase

I had no idea there were rabbit jumping competitions. But my favourite part of this video is the in the 56 sec when this grown man is all serious, puts down his rabbit and shouts a loud "YES!" when his little cutie clears a major leap. priceless. :D

God like Jazz

Just wanted to remember one of my favourite opening lines of a book.

"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Baghdad Theatre one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself.
It is as if they are showing you the way.

I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened."

Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

I am pretty fond of it because that's how I got lured into this whole God business as well - truthfully, it wasn't the intellectual arguments nor the precious words of some preacher.

I saw people in love with Him. And I fell for Him too.

The Politics of Food, Weight and Women

Post CNY binging guilt, I found myself at the gym tonight and the whole place was PACKED to the brim - with lots more women than men. It got me thinking about how many of them were there because they were thinking of that last 10 pieces of bak kwa or pineapple tart that they were wishing desperately would leave their systems.

I swear the big difference between men and women is that men never feel the need to apologise or justify for what they eat. But women seem hardwired to feel some kind of compulsion to explain themselves when it comes to issues of food, weight and their appetite. Women with large appetites get the once-over from other women, "Wow. You can really eat a lot eh." (which can come with a loaded hint that a proper woman should not eat like a piggish man) Women with small appetites also get the once-over,"Eh, why you eat so little. You on a diet?" (of which, then comes an embarrassed revelation "Yes I am on a diet" akin to a confession of moral weakness)

Take the simple statement: "I don't want to eat carbs."
This is sometimes followed up with either a sheepish "I know I sound stupid and neurotic" look or a smug "yeah, cos carbs are BAD for you" or even a challenging "wanna make something out of it?" or perhaps a long explanation of why such an earth-shattering decision was made.

What's even more interesting is how women respond to such statements by other women.

Take the typical "I put on so much weight/I am fat" which will be instantly followed by either an encouraging chorus of "No, no, you are not fat." or a mini contest of ego-battery "No, please, look at MY THIGHS. I am fatter than you. No way you are fat cos what does that make me?" - It's like this strange tactic of affirmation by self-demolition.

Seriously, I wonder why men's heads don't explode from trying to navigate the female brain's complex wiring around the most seemingly mundane (to the men) issues.

The reason why questions like "Honey, do I look fat in this?" or statements like "I put on so much weight" sound so loaded is because it is loaded with a whole minefield of neuroses. The mundane statements touch on far more profound questions beneath the surface: about self-respect, fear of being mocked etc. It doesn't even seem to matter if you are skinny or fat, or put on a whole bunch of weight or lost a bunch of weight - every girl has had to deal with the politics of how to give or take in conversations revolving around food, weight and looks.

Of course, I am just as neurotic about all this as the next woman - thankfully a little less neurotic than I was in my nutjob teen years.

SB offered me a cream puff today, "Do you want a cream puff?"

Thinking of my post CNY guilt, I answered sheepishly,"Ya. But I don't think I can."

SB laughed," Don't be silly lah. Have a cream puff."

When I gave him another helpless shrug and said, "Cannot." He rolled his eyes, "Women. You are all crazy."

Yep, that we are. :)

Ah for the freedom of being a man, eating like a pig and then patting his belly proudly with his buddies. Seriously, there seems to be alot more jollies in a pack of men sharing the woeful beginnings of a pot belly. It's like a mutual "Buddy-boys, it's all down hill from here. Let's go get a prata."

It seems like in a guy's world, things are just more black and white and objective.
Pot belly = Pot belly

whereas in the girl's world, all things have strings attached.
Pot Belly = I have no self-control/I am not attractive/I am useless/I am not sexy/I am a loser/I am not as good as my friends.

Funny thing is - I suspect that when we are talking about issues of career, work and money-making, the roles might be reversed. as in girls will not take earning less than peers, or getting sacked as harshly as their male equivalents.

Hmmm....food for thought. :)

We Have a Wiener!

We Have a Wiener!
Originally uploaded by thejacksons.

this is so hilarious.....what is it about plastic googly eyes that appeal to us? i mean stick a pair on practically anything and it will reduce even a grown man to giggles - okay , at least a smirk of repressed giggles.

Comedian and cook, Amy Sedaris organised this craft contest - i think that is SO brilliant. we should all have a googly plastic eye craft party. so cute.

Visit the rest of the competitors entries at
http://www.flickr.com/groups/sedariscraftchallenge/pool/

i will keeeeeees you

happy valentine's day. :)
(courtesy of cuteoverload.com - my secret comfort food)

what did you do when you were young?

2 weekends ago, some of us were making the last minutes of sunday stretch by swapping childhood memories. It was amazing how light-hearted and happy we got just by recalling past silliness. Nostalgia has a magic of its own. Somehow reminiscing about the past is such a human way of forming connections: it's always interesting to get the know what someone was like before you had ever met them.

We discovered surprising little links between the hijinks we got up in school to what we were ended up doing as careers. The irrepressible Redbeanfish was devising codes for her little Famous Five gang to communicate in; enterprising CL was once hauled up by her primary school teacher for being an illegal sticker seller: she had rubbed her mother's perfume on ordinary stickers to latch onto the then-popular "scratch-and-sniff" sticker craze' ; I was always creating stuff to share with my classmates: I cut bad albums with badly written lyrics superimposed on popular songs. I created magazines full of hand-drawn pictures of my childhood mates as celebrities exiting out of limos, hand in hand with hot guys. I had a flourishing little business where I made paper dolls for friends and regularly updated the dolls' wardrobes with new fashion lines of paper clothes.

We also discovered surprising propensity for mischief that lay behind mild mannered faces: A used to make flying leaps off her family balcony in defiance of her screaming mother; SpyMaster used to hide snails in unsuspecting provision shop owners' deep freezers, in between launching water bombs on innocent passerbys.

There were also anecdotes of how childhood shaped your ethical outlook: I will always remember how I cheated on my chinese exam in Primary Six. My chinese teacher had seen through my pathetic attempts to cover up and chose not to reprimand me during the exam. Instead, after all papers were handed up and all people had left, she took me aside to tell me she saw everything I did and told me never to cheat again. It was pure grace. I never expected it from a chinese teacher I had always associated with fiercely knitted brow, tightly pursed lips and a red pen of fury. I never cheated on a test ever again.

You gladly leave some things behind in childhood: your secret and ill-thought crush on Jordan Knight from NKOTB, your deep desire to go for a Richard Marx concert, your notion that Richard Clayderman was the classiest music on earth, your ill-fitting pinafores.

But some things you should just never let go: your irrepressible search for cheap fun, your belief that a good day is always just around the corner, the simple presumption that you were creative and the notion that all you needed was to make the most of today. Tomorrow would worry for itself.

As to all my friends: I raise a glass of ribena (or if you prefer, lukewarm banana-flavoured UHT milk in square little cartons sitting in the sun) to all our todays and tomorrows. Grow like a Champion, Grow.

How glad I am for such lovely company along the way. :)

A form adequate to its content

I was following a trail of google crumbs when I found Jeffrey Overstreet's blog and his thoughts on Eugene Peterson's Eat This Book:

"Honest stories respect our freedom; they don't manipulate us, don't force us, don't distract us from life.
Not all stories, of course, are honest. There are sentimentalizing stories that seduce us into escaping from life; there are propagandistic stories that attempt to enlist us in a cause or bully us into a stereotyped response; there are trivializing stories that represent life as merely cute or diverting..."

The Peterson quote continues "...The Christian life requires a form adequate to its content, a form that is at home in the Christian revelation and that respects each person's dignity and freedom with plenty of room for all our quirks and particularities."

Overstreet muses quite aptly about the Peterson quote, "There's a whole discussion waiting to happen, just from that quote. "A form adequate to its content." He's talking about the Christian life, but let me tell you... if more Christian artists came to understand that the form of their work is as important as the content, we would have a new rennaissance of artmaking.

I don't know how many times I've received emails in which someone has protested my critique of a mediocre "Christian movie" or "Christian music" saying, "But Jeff, your focus is in the wrong place. It doesn't matter how good the art is so long as the message is good."

Wrong. If we package the message in mediocrity, we show it disrespect, and worse, we make it unappealing to those we would desire as an audience.

The form and structure of the Bible is awe-inspiring. The forms and structure of God's creation... from the ocean to the human body to a hummingbird... are awe-inspiring, excellent, beautiful, and meaningful. In the same way, great art lasts and speaks to us because of its excellence. And there is no art more lasting and powerful than great art inspired by, and reflecting back, God's Word. In fact, the meaning of great art and the excellence of great art are inseparable. They are very much the same thing."

On that note, Tim Jackson from relevant magazine weighs in with another quotable quote. He is comparing a Christian production called Facing the Giants and Stranger Than Fiction, "Facing the Giants doesn’t tell a story so much as it builds a case. Giants is an infomercial for a brand of Christianity. From the moment it starts to its never-in-doubt conclusion, it does what all advertising does: sells. The pitch is clear: Buy Jesus now and as a bonus He’ll fix everything broken in your life.
Art often begins with a question that propels us on a journey to discover the answer. Advertising begins with an answer—whether certain or dubious—and creates questions to lead us to that answer. Stranger Than Fiction is art, even if it’s fluffy pop art. No matter how well made or how sincere the intent, Facing the Giants is essentially a commercial.

I love it when people put words to my thoughts. Saves me hours of pondering and keyboard pounding. Plus usually they do such a spiffy job of summing it up. :)

I will kill to see a well-made film that is sensitive, truthful and balanced about Christ/Christians that does not see the need to hit people with a mighty sledgehammer.

The best theatre productions, films, artwork or books that I have seen about Christians/Christ have very strangely been done by non-Christians. The Christian produced ones just seem so...overloaded/overdone/overwrought....with agenda.

Well sure there is The Passion of the Christ - which I admit I did cry but that was more because of my vested sentiment as a christian and just the sheer brutality of the torture scenes. I did not think Passion was great for pretty much the same reasons why I cannot say Babel was great: well-shot, well-acted but ham-fisted and a little too political for my liking. The audience is pushed into a conclusion by vivid cinematography and a plot driven by the director's intentions more than the story's intentions : The audience is left with no room to discuss or ponder or choose to think any less than what the director has already pre-judged worthy of thought.

Resolution Revolution aka 2007 Resolutions - Sort of

Most people I know have given up on making New Year resolutions because they just seem so futile and ego-deflating after a while. Another year, another bunch of failures. How can anyone look forward to the new year when come January 2nd, you have already blown your precious list of resolutions by a mile?

I mean just check out this site called 43 things which keeps an updated list of top new year resolutions for 2007. Pretty keen but some rather intimidating stuff!

I was checking out my list of resolutions from a year agoand was pleasantly surprised to find out I had more or less managed to do all of them. I called the list "2006 Resolutions...Sort of" because some of them did not sound like resolutions at all to me at that point of time. It was sort of a half joking, half serious kind of list. I think the main reason why this list was one of my more successful lists was precisely because it was more of a fun than a serious list.

>>1. Get a new Powerbook once and for all. Yay!
Bought me a G5 computer! love it love it love it. Glad I waited so long before getting a new Mac. The Intel chip was worth the wait. ah, sweet hybrid bliss.

>>2. Be a humbler listener and curb instinct to be a holyschmoly smartypants!
Yeah I made a more concerted effort at that, especially with one particular friend. haha. you know who you are. :D

>>3. Actually use my PDA to organise the chaos I call my mind. Got plans? Execute, execute! and use that PDA to help!
YUP. My little PDA is pretty indispensable to me these days. And I used to call myself a non-PDA type of person!

>>4. Spend more time with my family. House not equal as hotel you know.
Yeah I improved in that in 2006. The remodelling kitchen project in December was quite reflective of that. Plus I started coming home at more regular hours nearing the end of year. :)

>>5. Get back in gym rat mode. Last year of gym membership- diedie must chao kuan use to the fullest!
OK this one was in major deprovement in 2006 given the shiploads of work and horrijible MMPORG I got introduced to. But towards late December I was slowly moving back to my 3 times a week habit again. SLOWLY.

>>6. Clean up 1/4 of the chaos I call my room (1/4 is realistic estimation I think)
1/4 was indeed cleaned up. 3/4 is still a hurricane. I think it was severe mark of improvement that I kicked of 1 Jan 2007 by cleaning up my overflowing pile of art materials and bags. The corner looks so INCREDIBLY clean and neat now that I just stare at it and block out the rest of my mess. The clean corner is SO therapeutic to look at. :)

>>7. Adopt a hamster to channel all my lack-of-a-rabbit-affections to.
I have a hamster - HAMHAM - and TWO(!) bunnie wunnie hunnies - Flopsy and Mopsy!

>>8. Share and admit to my weaknesses more often to curb instinct to play holyschmoly smartypants!
Oh yeah baby, I did this too! and learnt some super interesting things about my psychological makeup. Which deserves a whole other blog entry by itself. haha.

>>9. Stop drinking teh si like its the last drink on earth. Must...try....other....drinks.
eh failure. I think its addiction. Although this year, I did add Yuan Yang to my list but not counting it cos it is nothing more than teh si WITH coffee.

>>10. Go on One Good Date. Mwa ha ha. Insert archi insider joke.
well actually, I did kind of go on one pretty nice non-date. Date pretext was not a romantic one at all but it had all the nice ingredients of one: dinner with a cute well-dressed guy; fancy restaurant which I did not have to go dutch for; intelligent, enjoyable conversation sprinkled with good manners and compliments. So even if it was NOT A DATE, I am gonna construe it as one any way so I can rack up another resolution done. heh.

>>11. Love God. Love Neighbour. Feed Sheep.
as usual, a tough one to accomplish. getting there. more on this later.

So I have a theory about New Year's Resolutions.There should always be two lists:

-The perennial one that rarely changes, being full of big-picture, hard-to-achieve goals (like my 2006 #11 Love God, Love Neighbour, Feed Sheep").

- and the fun one that is redolent with easier-to-achieve, light-hearted goals (like my 2006 #7 Adopt a hamster")

The former list is neccessary because it reminds you year after year about what your life's goals are essentially about. It determines whether you are still heading towards the right direction. Although nobody can say with a straight face that they succeeded in living their neighbour perfectly by the end of the year, it does not mean "Love your Neighbour" should not deserve a hallowed place in anyone's list of things to accomplish. As that annoyingly twee little quote goes - "Aim for the stars and maybe you'll reach the sky."

But the latter list is just as vital because it reflects the little steps it takes to accomplish the former. For instance, my trivial resolution to buy a Powerbook was silly on the surface. But it did reflect a deeper change that I was hoping to make in myself by year end. You see, I have terrible hangups about money and spending. I used to be fairly neurotic about penny-pinching but over the years I have been learning to spend more on creature comforts and discerning what are areas worth spending money on.

The point is - we should keep the serious former list in our heads for life but every new year we should just draft the fun one and get people to draft theirs just for kicks.

The fun list of resolutions works in its fluffy little way: It is light-hearted, sincere and easy for one to look forward to accomplishing.And some how along the way you accidentally accomplish other resolutions you did not pen down but were still major milestones.

SO, this year, I am drafting yet another fun list of "2007 Resolutions - Sort of"

1. Get in touch with my inner art student again and paint one picture on a big canvas.

2. Do a Martha Stewart and refurnish the yard for my mother so it becomes a cosy ironing/laundry/storage corner.

3. Visit Italy again - Cinque Terre - and revist travelling Europe with that kick-ass hamster girl I have not made enough effort to hang out with more often over the past few years! :P

4. Enjoy my 30th birthday by throwing a semi-big shebang and finding a way to honour everyone that made me who I am 3 decades on.

5. Buy sensible flat shoes for my insensible flat feet. Stop buying pretty but nasty-to-feet shoes. (Cringe)

6. Break bread more often with acquaintances I find hard to get along with. :)

7. Go on mission trip #2: India? Ethiopia? Philipines?

8. Learn to bowl properly. Don't know what a decent average is for a raving amateur like moi, but I will settle for having a consistent rate of 5 closed frames, 5 open frames.

9. Work out 3 times a week, 1 hour each. Build up muscle tone and flexibility again.

10. Read 50 books (graphic nnovels do not count) - actually I have always wanted to know exactly how much I read. Maybe it would be fun this year to actually do a tally. :)

11. Attempt writing some fiction in new notebook with inspiring pictures friend bought me.

12. Publish magazine successfully.

13. Keep better records of how much am spending.


Wish me luck and to kick it off...i shall launch this new signature line in me blog. ha
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Now reading book #1 of 50 books for 2007:
The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana by Umberto Eco
Verdict so far: cool concept. My first Eco. :)

Thoughts on Cambodia

Before I ventured into Cambodia, it was hard for me to conceive of it being anything beyond the images left behind by the Killing Fields.

To me, Cambodia was a country forever shadowed by the Pol Pot years of famine, torture, cruelty and unbelievable political stupidity. It was difficult to see the face of the country beyond its history and its problems.

Seeing a country and its people face to face speaks volumes beyond what you read on paper. While people want sympathy in their brokenness, nobody wants to be remembered solely for their mistakes, their tragedies, their dark times. Similarly for countries. Cambodians want to move on. They do not want to just be remembered as the tragic playground for Pol Pot's egotism.

Everywhere I went in Cambodia, it was getting progressively harder to see the fingerprints of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. The poverty was still there. The many landmine victims were still there. Toul Sleng was still there. The pyramids of Cambodian skulls were still there.

But the real Cambodia seemed to call out to me to be heard. She did not want to be stereotyped as just another case study of political horror. She whispered, "Look at me. Look. At. Me. Know who I am. Not who you want me to be."

In Toul Sleng - the infamous school turned interrogation and torture centre of the Khmer Rouge, I walk past panel after panel of mugshots of the thousands who passed through the gates and never emerged again. In a room full of discarded rusting leg irons, I suddenly find a crumbling plaster bust of Pol Pot. It is moulding away, defaced and ignored by most of the tourists. I stand over it and stare at it. The feeling of helpless anger over all that Pol Pot did is overwhelming. I find that I am crying as I take photos of it. I curse it. Bastard - I think - you bastard.

In Phnom Penh, a new painfully white NOKIA shop mushroomed in the midst of a dirty street, screamed crassily, "Capitalism is here!" Fresh new billboards advertising luxury goods and dainty cafes in ubiquitous dark wood and cream leather agreed. The many street stall vendors offering fresh steamed corn, Vietnamese noodles, voluptuous milkfruit agreed.

A lovely Cambodian woman tells me in impeccable English that she works as a maid in Malaysia. She dishes out her delicately flavoured coconut fish stew for all people - me, the awkward Singaporean tourist, the sweet-faced Chinese student, the sullen decorated military officer, the construction workers. A Khmer Literature teacher sits next to me and tells me about how difficult it is to teach teenagers these days. I look at him in wonder: 20 years ago, this man would never have been able to declare aloud his affection for Literature. The Khmer Rouge would have bludgeoned him to death for that.

In the rural area of Kratie, giggling Cambodian village children ran freely in the mud - their clothes and bags are obviously donations from the First World. I count at least three shiny F4 schoolbags on my trip. Jerry Yen's beaming white mug is disconcerting in this place. Do these children know that thousands of Chinese girls swoon and scream before the feet of those four pretty boys? They do not. And they don't care. They run barefoot and bare-bodied, next to the swollen pigs and sulking cows. Their feet are fleet, their dirty teeth break out into easy grins, their eyes have not learnt the light of cynicism or boredom. Older children naturally lead the younger, admonishing them to say thank you for the little gifts we give out. These village children know riches of childhood that I suspect their wealthier counterparts have forgotten in their sterile, clean, perfumed cocoons.

A Cambodian orphan boy with the gentle eyes motions to me to make him a balloon sculpture cross. I motion to him to wait as I make balloon dogs for his friends. He waits in patience and quietly watches me twist the balloons clumsily as I pore over the instructions. The boy gracefully picks up a stray balloon and tries to mould his own cross. He fails and tries again. Fails and tries again. And succeeds, displaying his cross to me with a sweet smile. With deft, agile little movements, he shows me how to sculpt it. Then in silent partnership, he joins me and starts making balloon crosses and balloon crowns for all his little friends.

I take him aside to give him a little toy and tell the translator to praise him - that he of all the children will get this special prize because he knows how to be generous and give instead of take all the time. The boy smiles quietly and shyly wanders downstairs. The next time I see him, the little angel has given away his crown, his cross AND the little toy to the other gleeful children. I look at him in wonder, marvel at his charity and think of how Christ loved the poor old woman who gave away her copper coins.

All along he has not said a single word, but he has given me volumes to think about.

Cambodia is not Pol Pot. It is not Toul Sleng. It is not S21 or the Khmer Rouge or the Killing Fields.
It is not poverty. It is not famine.

It is all that but it is much much more.

Something of the real Cambodia is in the smile of that young boy - serene, quiet, trusting, at peace.
Something in his smile says Blessed. It is for such as him that Christ preached the Sermon on the Mount.

I think of Psalm 37:

"For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land.
A little while, and the wicked will be no more; though you look for them, they will not be found.
But the meek will inherit the land and enjoy great peace.
The wicked plot against the righteous and gnash their teeth at them;
but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming."

Somewhere I romanticise. I dream, I hope - Cambodian children are laughing because the Lord has taught them to laugh in defiance at the wicked.

Evil men might have held Cambodia ransom for four bloody years. But they shall never inherit the land.

I Heart Daniel Craig

Watched Casino Royale last night.

How incredibly SEXY is Daniel Craig as the new Bond?

Daniel Craig + white short sleeve shirt + wry smile = RWWWWWWWOOOOARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Happiness Looks Like This

I can't begin to tell you how goofily happy I get when I look at this picture. Love. At. First. Aw.

Love Actually?

Last night, we were wondering about what was the last romantic movie we enjoyed. There was some bantering about Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, When Harry Met Sally.

Curiously, I never realized how few of those romance movies I actually love. I liked some of them not because I found them particularly romantic. In fact, my favourite scenes were those with that hard-edge of realism. Maybe it’s my inner cynic – heh.

My favourite story in Love Actually was the morose one about near-adultery - where Alan Rickman reduces Kristen Scott-Thompson to wrenching sobs over a Joni Mitchell CD. I loved Before Sunrise and Before Sunset not because I thought the relationship in there was cool – but because I liked Julie Delpy’s awkward burst of anger as she confronts Ethan Hawke about how he had left her behind when he got married. I liked 2046 for the way it painted the ugliness of secret longings and selfish love – it was fitting to see the Tony Leung character alone and morose at the end of the whole show.

Okay the exceptions - I liked High Fidelity because it was …charming. Or rather John Cusack is charming, haha. I also liked Roman Holiday because it was just sweet, old-fashioned and cute. Who can say no to Audrey on a Vespa and Gregory Peck in a suit? Gregory Peck. 1950s Man in 1950s suit, Sigh.

The one fairly recent serious romantic movie I like is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I thought the ending was quite genuinely romantic. It was a screen relationship that I actually thought was worth rooting for. The whole movie cleverly used the metaphor of a memory-erasing technology to show how a beautiful, realistic love story has to be built upon remembering the good and the bad about each other. It was quite sweet to see the two leads tentatively agree to fall in love with each other again after reliving all the best and worst memories of their relationship.

I guess I am generally picky about films- especially when I have to shell out $8 for them. J Films that have managed to grab me successfully over the past few years all had to be pure fun (X-men, Batman Begins), clever or at least brutally realistic (Hotel Rwanda. The Constant Gardener).

On a tangent – I realize all my favourite “clever” films used a fantastical device to make a strangely grounded, frank observation about the things that we do to each other and to ourselves: American Beauty, Unbreakable, Eternal Sunshine, Memento, 2046, The Matrix (only the first) and now The Prestige. It is quite funny how appropriate analogies and metaphors are in talking about the human condition!

Currently reading: Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
Thinking of reading: John Le Carre’s The Constant Gardener, Persepolis 2