Wednesday, February 28, 2007


Maybe it's not so bad to have grown up in a painful home and still trying to patch the many holes. Maybe I'm given such privilege so I can write about it, share it and in the process, bring comfort and consolation to my readers, as The Kite Runner (by Khaled Hosseini) and Chinese Cinderella (by Adeline Yen Mah) did to me.

I have a sneaky suspicion that if we can only lift our foot off our current situation and look at the greater world in need and pain, we will find redemption for our hurting soul.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

This Gift of Love

I don’t usually subscribe to commercialism, especially not on Valentine’s Day. But I do love him, and I think spending special, quality time is important, never mind the crazily exorbitant flowers, over priced chocolates and insanely packed, dimly lighted restaurants.

My pocket wasn’t full, so I made him a card. A really special card, because it came from my heart. It reads: “…together we’ll beat the crashing storm and ride our greatest waves.”

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but he knows the way to mine is a good book – and he got me one. Smart. This is the third book he’s given me on three separate, special occasions – The Man From Perfect for Christmas 2005, The Kite Runner for Christmas 2006 and now, the Chinese Cinderella for Valentine’s 2007. Sweet, isn’t he? Yeah.

Delicious pasta, fried carrot cake, chocolates, About A Boy DVD and lots of hand holding. That’s my V Day for you. Hope yours was exciting in its own little ways. ;)

In retrospect

A journal entry on 18/09/06:

I'm more open, more adept and willing to learn. And the fortunate effect of this attitude is a smoother life with nice little surprises strewn along my path each day. The sky looks bluer, the clouds fluffier, the sun brighter, the rain cooler, the traffic bearable.

But I did not arrive here in a day. It took a necessary long walk along a harrowing stretch of dark valley over 11 grueling months. Months and days where I refused to get out of bed, got to work late or not at all, feigned sick on once too many occasions, displayed unpleasant and sour attitude at work to both fellow colleagues and bosses alike.

As I was slipping down the broad and welcoming well of depression, scratching my nails on the walls of despondency, I was such a pitiful sight even my loved ones offered no solace and I succeeded at disgusting myself. I should thank the good Lord He did not leash His whip from heaven down on my pathetic buttocks. He patiently held my hands and led me through the valley; while I made numerous attempts to break myself free from His grip of grace. Thank God His grip was tighter than my obstinacy. It is good, I must say, to be open and jovial again.

The Man Who Sold The World

Composed by David Bowie but widely performed by Nirvana, this song I suspect, is really a spoof of an encounter with the man who saves the world - Jesus - and turning it around to an encounter with the man who sold the world - the devil?

The Man Who Sold The World

We passed upon the stairs,
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there
He said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes - I thought you died alone
A long long time ago

Oh no, not me,
We never lost control,
You're face to face,
With the man who sold the world

I laughed and shook his hand,
I made my way back home,
I searched for form and land,
Years and years I roamed,
I gazed a gazely stare,
We walked a million hills - I must have died alone,
A long long time ago.

Who knows, not me,
I never lost control,
You're face, to face,
With the man who sold the world.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.

- Carl Jung