on being manly...AGAIN

2010-03-27T21:19:00.002+08:00

Come back to School, the Lord says. You're not done with training and learning yet.
I say yes... i will... but i'm doing everything possible to run the other way. Maybe i'm just trying to get away with as much recklessness before kicking my bad habits for real. I'm just not sure if He can wait.

2010-01-16T10:24:00.003+08:00

Over a nice dimsum breakfast, my aunt related this amazing story:

Pastor So and So, from the Tabernacle of So and So was on his way to check emails at his church office... at 10pm. I wanted to ask - but decided against it - if there were any particularly tempting temps working with said pastor. Anyway... pastor feels a tummy ache and through years of quiet contemplation, concluded it was God's way of telling him to go home and enjoy a satisfying shit.

When he returns the next morning to answer needy emails, he discovers his church hit by petrol bombs, and had indeed become, 'A Church On Fire'. Good news is, our government's given them a 500k grant to rebuild. Plus MCA has lent them their hall for Sunday services in the interim.

My aunt of course praises God. I obviously try to curb her enthusiasm. "God spoke through a stomach ache?" I ask. Why can't we have the talking donkey again? This happy ending has re-invigorated prayer meetings and re-energized the fervent.

"So everyone's praying for more churches to be burnt?" i continue.

She laughs a silly laugh. I join her, accepting the futility of the Christian way.

I know now the moment everything came crashing down for CLGC, we were forced on a journey that if nothing else, has taught us to skeptically evaluate any sort of providence before heaping credit His way.

If i sat under an apple tree famished and one fell on my head, i say "Thanks Lord for apple trees."
But if an apple fell on my head and as it rolled across the ground, transformed into a strudel complete with a side of fresh cream, i fall face down and repent. Such extravagance can only be His doing.

2009-02-21T02:17:00.002+08:00

One For Poh-Poh

A few days ago, we held a wake for my grandmom of 80-odd years. I wonder which pervert saw it fit to call a funeral service a "wake". English is so fucked up.

Poh Poh or Chan Ah Heng as she officially called herself, had been bedridden for the past 2 years. During her final months she was somewhat senile and over her last days, drifting in and out of conciousness until her shrunken frame finally heaved its last breath.

I didn't visit too often at the oldy house where she was placed. I was too indifferent. I told myself it didn't make a difference since she couldn't recognize me anyways. That view was much too short-sighted. Visiting her would have made a difference to me.

My Poh Poh lived nothing short of a tumultuous and tragic life. Orphaned at a young age, she was then separated from her siblings. As the story goes, all but one sister died. No contact has been regained till this day. But that's not the worst of it. The darkest and most evil parts were never revealed to us. Nobody for instance, knows her real name or her age. Nobody knows why she chose to be a single mother after her second child. Nobody has ever spoken of why she's missing her left eyeball. Nobody can remember what her husband was like; his looks, countenance, or even the location of his grave. We simply know him as Louis Pharamond who died when my father the first born was still wetting his pants.

I myself never brought these questions up. A sort of merciful negligence since it was inferred that such queries were too painful or too deeply buried. I caught murmurs from time to time but these things will never be substantiated. Once as a child Ebony's age, i overheard my father say he suspected she was tortured by the Japs when she was young. Those fuckers deserve a hell all of their own. It's a very colorful, very engaging and if truth be told, very misleading comment. Who can ever know?

Whatever her story she kept mum till the very end, with every secret secure in her heart. Never to be revealed, as if she broke the key in it's lock when she turned to leave her secret garden. She would have been a great novel. Tragic, beautiful, poignant and all the other wonderful adjectives that accompany a work that moves people to review their place in this world.

This post is for her, the lady who never forgot my birthday. Maybe I'll still find out her story one day.

2008-10-17T12:02:00.000+08:00

The best way to capture the beauty of innocence is to leave people to their own devices. Then you’ll see without tint or bias, their truest colors, because essentially, you’re privy to an intensely private view.

I remember a photographer who once wanted to take photos to portray how women honestly viewed their bodies. He put each woman in a room of mirrors with a camera on a tripod and locked the door behind him as he left. With a mobile trigger, the ladies just started snapping away. The pictures spoke all sorts of stories. There were contorted faces and angry hands grabbing lumps of buttock flesh, cherubic eyes on legs spread wide to show rosy clitoria, some even unsure smiles and awkward poses. You know it’s not pornographic because as you look, you begin to feel, and connect, and you understand. If you’re really paying attention, you’ll relate. That's a good goal to strive towards, isn't it?

2008-08-28T17:40:00.003+08:00

Movies talk to me, and Jesus talks through the movies.

I think...

If Steve Hyde was right about God using all sorts of mediums to communicate, then Batman was my rayma... sort of...

The revelation that i took away with me, is during the most desperate of hours, you can expect the best from the worse and the worse from the best. I suppose i found some solace there because i know which camp i belong to.

After all the confusion about identity and subsequent efforts to live up to standards too lofty for a mortal like me, it feels damn comfortable here.

2008-07-22T23:39:00.003+08:00

Did you know, John Lennon once said the Beatles were more popular than Christ, and was subsequently shot 6 times?

Did you also know, bisexual Mexican poet Juan Don Juan once puffed on his cigarette before blowing the smoke (second hand, no less) up into the sky saying, "this one's for you Jesus." He later died a horrible death to lung cancer.

Did you know you tongue hold the keys to life or death?

Did you realize, well meaning Christians still send out imbecilic emails with a fair warning to guard your tongue? - ok, fuck, i'm probably the first specimen who should take that advice seriously. But humour me and let's exercise a spot of imagination ok?

So there's a fat girl with the cutest bangs in my office who wants to take me to her church after i derided her for sending out those stupid emails. She says i'd really like it there. People are friendly, the food is excellent (did i mention she has large buttocks? like super-ultra-super-super-ultra big), and that God always makes a grand entrance. Plus, everyone there knows their tongues hold the keys to life and death.

I swear i wanted to respond sensibly, but i convulsed as vomit built up in my larynx. After regaining control, i thanked her and said i would consider it. Her double chin wagged enthusiastically as she nodded her approval. She's a sweetheart to work with, but only on her good days. Other times you wonder - is this the same peach (after peach, after peach, after peach) of a girl who only yesterday said God is pure love and unfathomable wonder?

Cutting it short, we had a little back and forth over email which ended when she asked if i was still going to church.

I had to admit, it had been a while. So long i still feel it necessary to condemn well-meaning morons. I mean, i've overweight too. Who am i to judge her?

Sigh...

2008-07-17T17:14:00.002+08:00

2008-07-14T17:55:00.003+08:00

I thought of my friend Nick - a teenhood buddy who now sports original Polo shirts and a well worn passport. I thought of Siming - who's parents prefer a moneyed man. I thought of my own life - specifically the times i fancifully told myself a guy like me needs a bigger orbit than grooming products. And i thought about self development - the stretching and testing that builds a man.

Now i only think about one thing - quicksand.

2008-07-08T22:47:00.004+08:00

The Crumbling.

Socks Up! - I get up in the mornings telling myself that. Time to throw my flabby body off the bed and march myself into the shower. Then shave, dress, perfume, and go go go! Get to office on time, answer your emails, write up proposals, send them out, call up potential clients, meet and convince them radio will sell anything they want. Don't forget to memorise numbers, statistics, in-flow, out-flow and some of the competition's figures too. Then watch out for sneaky numbnuts at the office... the types that suck up but can't do a shred of real work. They'll throw as much on you as they can cos they have an M.C. emergency every other week. Then there are the bosses to impress who - as a rule of thumb - remember only the fuck-ups, but not the ball-busting you put yourself through.

Sigh.

The rat-race in a well-worn nutshell. And i still haven't seen the big bucks. What's it all for? To prove to myself i have what it takes to make it in life? That line's wearing thin i gotta admit, however true. FUCK. My soul is dead. What the fuck have i signed up for?

Sigh...

Time for bed again.

2008-06-05T23:48:00.003+08:00

Love Actually

I remember the days when Anthony was youth pastor and all our eyes were covered with the wool of the impressionable - especially when it came to relationships. I mainly watched from the sidelines and chewed on leftovers bits of hearsay but i do remember him ruling that whole arena with an iron fist. The logic was of course to remove as many distractions from a teenager's life so one could focus all energies toward the grand pursuit of God.

Otherworldly - the only word that comes to mind when i reminisce. I'm sure that equation has changed very much. Especially now that most of us can vividly describe the wonderful colors a moist tongue can paint. And that particularly, we are all witnesses to the awkward truth of life-long singlehood. Life is unfair and so is God. Life is unjust and so is....

Think i'll draw the line there because that simple isn't true. I may not know how to describe it yet but i'm sure there's a subtle difference. So maybe i'll merely wax lyrical about the erosion of our ideals. Shall i lament or celebrate? hmm... quite the brain teaser.

Two things that will tip the scale on either side:

1, The realisation you're only ever going to be a spiritual parent
2, You taste the delirious joys of intimacy

=) oh the terrible choices and decisions we are put through...

2008-05-15T16:19:00.002+08:00

Because Life Is What It Is

I grew up being a mama's boy, in the sense that i felt it was my responsibility to protect her from my dad. I still remember the fear that crept into my bed late every night when he'd come home drunk and raging for a showdown. I'd lie tense as a poised bow, ready to spring up if i heard his footsteps thumping heavily on the floor as he went for her. Don't get me wrong, it was nothing terribly serious - my dad never actually hit my mom hard enough for it to show and he probably never will. But it was throughly harrowing nonetheless.

I lived through that as a teenager. And so did Chloe. I wonder how she dealt with it. I was fucking stressed of course. And now Ebony has to experience that same shit. So yesterday i passed on some words of expereince and told her that it's not her responsiblity to come in between those two. She doesn't need to protect my mom. No one needs to protect her. Not any more.

After growing up somewhat, i've come to the very angry conclusion that both her and my dad can go fuck themselves. Would be utterly disgraceful and appalling if i admitted i don't think my mom deserves protecting? That i feel if dad punched her to a shitbag, i'd be upset but would worry more if i didn't get my fingers calloused enough for my guitar riffs?

And it hurts. It bloody hurts because i know i love her but God help me because my mom is a stupid bitch. I'm not saying it any other way. My mom is a stupid fucking bitch. A grand old stupid fucking bitch who sates her hollow shell with chasing after religious fads. If it isn't fucking IPN, it's that Jewish cock and bull or some national prayer fucking network. And if i tell her that she should cook something for Ebony cos she's hungry, she retorts saying we can't demand for shit when we feel like it. "You think what? my kitchen open any time you want ah?" - Verbatim.

What the fuck?! Your guess is as good as mine.

2008-04-29T21:32:00.003+08:00

Flaccid Egos

Work today was a piece of cake. If, the dough were made from finely ground glass and the cake glazed with paraquat. And the noose is only beginning to tighten. I feel like i've run a whole gauntlet of emotions and i'm looking for an exit only to find out i've been on a treadmill the whole time. Maybe i'll be sweating a little less the next time shit utterly hits the fan. Actually, you know how they make candy floss? You know that spinning machine that churns out the floss? Yup... picture that except it's shit floss flying all over the place.

First of all, several projects are running desperately late. Naturally these belong to one of our biggest spending clients. Thanks to a magical combination of my inexperience, the clients being nit-picking nit-wits and a lackadaisical conviction about meeting datelines from certain colleagues, we're in the doghouse... with yapping shit-zus. I know for a fact we're in deepest poo because even my immediate supervisor is giving me stupid solutions. You have to realise, you'd have better luck witnessing flying pigs than her giving me desperate instructions.

Jeez... and tomorrow is another day. And i have to answer the client and my boss. And i'm still fat. oh man... what a thrill life is turning out to be.

2008-04-10T21:29:00.005+08:00

Hits: 1,456
Scores: nil

See those stats above? Those are the number of times i get hit on by gay men and by obligation, the number of times i wink cutely before declining to french kiss. Just like today when pseudo celebrity Chef Ismail came over to the office and totally-totally-TOTALLY ignored Shaz, my shit hot friend that attracts hungry eyes like the laws of gravity. He addressed me even when speaking to us both. Boy was i pleased. Shaz was complaining so i reminded her she enjoys the lion's share of wanton lust and that made her feel better.

I felt like saying: World, Zech is on his way back!!! Hell Yeah!!!

I happen to think gay men have a more evolutionized sense of taste and personal hygiene hence the perceived value on their flirtations. If i'm good enough for gay men, i simply transcend having to disprove my insecurities with women. And i've been feeling so demoralised and moody because i actually have a belly now. I'm literally wobbling fat, even where my pectorals used to be. And worst of all, I can't even wear the nice baby blue shirt Ming picked out for me. She really loves that shirt. What a downer...

I hope you can see why Chef Ismail's attentions lifted my spirits somewhat. Still, i don't think i'm good enough for the crowd at Frangi so i'm determined to work hard-on my body (geddit? hehe...). But you know, i recall about 1,455 of those men saying i looked cute because of the baby fat (yup - Whathefuck!?!? - was my initial response too). So maybe not too hard... haha...

SICK!!!!!!!!

*note to self: this is a public blog. Kluang has had internet facilities since the early 90's. Do not give your girlfriend's father a reason to castrate you.

Noted.

2008-04-04T17:53:00.004+08:00

The Serenity To Love And Be Loved

You know, the title of this post sounds like it's been slow-cooked to perfection by centuries of heavy frowning saints as they hold their receding hairlines in their sweaty palms. Its got that rare biblical quality that impresses upon you it wasn't written by someone employed by Hallmark. If a dying man was given the chance to mutter his last words, that sentence would probably be one of his top three considerations. Or he might just say 'oh fuck' in which case his family would insist that it be engraved on his headstone.

But to me...

Love is hardly serene. It certainly has its tender moments but i'll never describe love as calm, collected and competent. To me the embodiment of love would be a scruffy pariah puppy. A complete mess from having the bitches in it's family tree fucked by various neighbourhood mongrels, as well as the odd pedigree-ed mutt. But you'd never be able to ignore that puppy. Something in its eyes will make you wanna give it a warm bath and doggie biscuits for rolling over. You would be illogically smitten, especially after realising this pariah puppy will wreck your life.

Because love isn't easy or smooth. It's disobedient and unpredictable. It will seek out your ideals and dismantle those crutches rivet by rivet till you're on your knees and face to face with your handicaps. That's the wonder and beauty of love. It's true nature is strip you and turn you inside out with pain, confusion and ecstasy. How wonderful.

After years of church life, this is my conclusion. How wonderful. I'm not taking pot shots at church or anything like that. I'm just saying love is bloody difficult. Ask anyone who's been in it, either of eros, phileo or agape. It is a fucking mess. To know how messed up it is, just think of someone you hate and what God said about loving your enemies.

"Ooo... can anyone truly love someone like _____ (enter a name of your choice)?!"

But love we must because we come from church. Because we come from sunday school. Because we come from mountain retreats and prayer havens. Because we come from the presence of a true God of love. I know i make it sound so blasphemous and but love to me is downright dirty. Falling in love is hiking up your jeans and jumping into knee length shit to look for the pearl you gave to that swine of a _____ (instructions as before).

I guess i'm writing this post because no one who regards church as an important component of his or her life, should have any misconceptions about it. We all preach about loving people effectively and exacting positive change is their lives do we not? This is what it takes. Are you ready to forget who you are? Your sense of pride? So that you can love someone so deeply it moves their lives?

I don't know if that possible but i'm committed to finding out. So i'm going to stop hating people who have hurt me, people who have disappointed me and people who are still doing one or both of those things. Mind you, i haven't been a saint myself. I've cut more people than i care to remember, even innocents. But yeah, let's question ourselves. Let see for our own eyes if we care to live like we speak.

2008-04-02T00:49:00.007+08:00

What Ever You Do, Don't Do A Joshua

If a stranger came to church and for whatever God forsaken reason asked me for the most important tip about blending in at CLGC, i'd tell him to never (not even if his life depended on it) do a Joshua.

A WHAT?

A J-O-S-H-U-A.

Or a Joshua Tong to be precise.

Simply because this church doesn't appreciate weakness and it sure as fuck doesn't understand vulnerability. Oops, sorry, i didn't mean to cut to the chase so quickly. I like smart sounding banter before actually getting to my point. Must be the lack of sleep, or was it the borderline psychotic rage? Same difference at this juncture.

So yes, i'd explain rather throughly that to be an accepted member of CLGC (that's not a double affirmative in case you wondered; some members we choose not to accept anyhow, anyway) you'll have to:

1. Put on a smile every Sunday
2. Praise the Lord in fiendishly fast tongues
3. Use the word "Jesus" as punctuation in your prayers
4. Train to become an expert at maintaining normalcy, even if your soul is in tatters

Feel free to muster some tears in between either of those requirements and you're set to be:

1. Loved
2. Respected
3. Given positions of leadership
4. Given free reign to exploit the fact that love covers a multitude of sins (i.e. church disciplinarians closing one eye if you don't behave)

Josh Tong, either out of sheer stupidity and/or naivety, continually and stubbornly adheres to the notion that church is place you can feel safe. What a ninny. So you know what he actually does? He opens up - reveals for all the world his cock-ups and mistakes. He even goes so far as to hand over his life into the hands of his leaders, to mold as they see fit. So they set for him rules and boundaries designed to protect him. And to protect others from him. I realise judging people's intentions can be iffy, but at CLGC, it's not so much like reading a book as it is reading childrens' flash cards.

If you want to be a dumb fuck and get your life fucked with, do a Joshua. Go ahead and open yourself to thoughtless rebuke, mindless judgement and infinite prejudice. Oh yes, you'll be despised for being honest.

So i'd tell that stranger to do a Jason, a Simon, a Desmond, an anybody else for fuck's sake. But don't do a Joshua. And that stranger will listen because no one is idiotic enough to open himself to ridicule and hatred. Is that fair? No it's not. But this is church, not real life where people still know where the boundaries are. Tough luck stranger. I hope the poor guy didn't come expecting love and understanding. At CLGC, that's only handed out to deserving individuals who maintain the best veneers. It's all about knowing how to hide your inadequacy at this church. It's your very key to survival and a good night's rest.

And don't you ever forget that.

2008-03-30T13:39:00.007+08:00

The Politicking Process

This post is probably too little too late, considering that i haven't heard Raj or Des or someone or rather talk politics in a while. I suppose it's cos the elections/general populace have correctly reflected their sentiments about our sometimes unjust government. Or maybe i've been napping during sermons again. No matter - i'm not voicing an opinion on the causes they've chosen to champion. But i was inspired after reading about an indie film-maker's experience of the politicking process. Which, you could perhaps consider as the other side of the coin.

See, while Raj or Des or someone or rather take it as their personal mission to educate us, admittedly feckless individuals about our responsibilities as Christian voters, this guy took another route - he got himself beaten to a pulp and then thrown into jail for casting his lot with some unlucky street protesters.

He was scared shitless of course. Then he saw another of his friends being dragged into a cell, styling the same color t-shirt he was - bloodied red. Then more of his friends start showing up in similar fashion. Those whose lips were not split open by batons were still chanting their chant. And the film-maker took comfort (and courage) from the fact his friends didn't leave him to rot alone.

And that got me thinking about this grand ruckus to change our nation's political climate. I wondered:
"Will my friends be there for me when i get taken away?"
"If they are free and i'm in a cell, will they still think nothing of themselves and protest for my release?"

I'm afraid i can't find it in me to imagine much less bellow a resounding yes. Of course that's an incredibly far fetched and superbly exaggerated scenario. And i'm certainly not suggesting that Raj or Des or someone or rather would behave cowardly or that they should be on the streets protesting. But it is for me the other side of the coin. Because to my narrow understanding, politics is a struggle for power. A struggle between the haves and have nots that you will truly internalize only when you put your face in the path of an on-coming baton. It's a crazy notion, but that to me is what i call putting words into action. I respect Raj or Des or someone or rather for taking the time to produce the facts and figures of the politicking process for our careful perusal. And i want to throw my lot in with them because they're fighting for legitimate causes.

But i think i'm not ready. Because i cannot bring myself to cheer for them if they were thrown into prison. Because i'm not so courageous as to rot in a hole if it comes to that. That's why i refrain from taking a stand too strong and a tongue too quick about it means to call for political awareness and justice. Not that it isn't needed, but merely because i'm not sure i'm willing to sacrifice that much. I'm Zech The Coward for this season.

So i think before i speak. Such uncharacteristic behaviour wouldn't you say? As it would seem, that's how the politicking process affects us all.

2007-12-17T11:05:00.000+08:00

I'm tired of this blog. I got a new one but it's still ugly, so if any small persons should offer to beautify it, i'll be more than happy to provide the neccesary password =)

It's at youareprivy.blogspot.com

2007-09-03T14:29:00.000+08:00

We spent some time
together walking
Spent some time just talking
about who we were
You held my hand so
very tightly
And told me what we could be
dreaming of

There's nothing like you and I

We spent some time
together drinking
Spent some time just thinking
about days of joy
As our hearts started
beating faster
I recalled your laughter
from long ago

There's nothing like you and I

We spent some time
together crying
Spent some time just trying
to let each other go
I held your hand so
very tightly
And told you what i would
be dreaming of

There's nothing like you and I
So why do i even try?

"Nothing Like You and I" by the Perishers.
I like the words but not just for myself.
This is what love is, isn't it?

To be attracted to someone, to open up for them, to walk away when its over.

Each love story is different. And no matter how wrong two people are for each other, it's nobody's busines but those two. I think we are too keen to protect those we care about. That's not wrong. But we should stop and spend more time learning to recognize when two people are truly and utterly in love.

And leave them to hurt when the wound bleeds. As it will certainly, because any kind of love is but a wound. And there's no need to bind the hurting with a fine speech about hope. You only have to hold them and cry with them, and they'll realise it ain't that bad after all - everybody bleeds. If you've never bawled till strength and spirit are worn thin, please, just shut up.

What an astounding dichotomy love is. It strips me and leaves me vulnerable yet it gives me strength and inspiration like nothing i've ever known. I love love. I love that God made it this way. It tests us, makes us grow, and when we falter, shows us for the horribly flawed humans we are. And yet we learn that the ability to forgive is divine. Makes me smile knowing that. Eases my wounds. Makes you absolutely beautiful.

2007-08-20T17:40:00.000+08:00

A glass of shiraz, easy lighting, a furry pillow and some loose tongued friends; whisked in equal amounts and i'll be rattling on coherently about the worse or the best in people. Sure i can mask it under personal opinions. That legitimises everything really. No quota on those yet.

But would it be fair? Can i say one person is ugly, and another is beautiful? Am i allowed to judge? I mean, in all fairness, some people are simply easier on the eyes than others. And we all have our own perceptions of beauty right, no contention there. It hides just beneath our skin, right alongside our prejudices. The REAL question then, is why are people feigning horror when i say what i think? They love flogging the dead horse of, "eh, so mean lah you."

Well, so are you.

The difference is that some are more honest that others. Not just with their views on other people, but with themselves as well. And that's the license you need, before proudly sharing any ideas on anyone else. Because the only truth that matters, is whether we regard ourselves as better than those we're talking about. Not that i've been a saint myself. Personally i have to constantly remind myself to regard other as better than myself. Got an overbearing problem with pride you see.

Oh well, just felt like blogging.

2007-07-14T09:54:00.000+08:00

I've A Rant To Get Off My Chest.
- let's dive into the fun =) hee hee...

Disclaimer* - I wrote this a looong time ago. And i've been warned that it shouldn't be put on my blog. But pompous as always, i think it's a rather inspired piece of writing. I DO NOT sincerely hate anyone, but i do get irritated easily and end up saying things i might or might not mean - but that depends on who's asking anyway. Don't take it too seriously okay folks?

I have a deep and deliberate hatred for my mother's posse at church simply because they're all fat and ugly. Haha.. no no... i'm kidding. Some are only stupid. Here's the real reason i'm so mad after an angry conversation with my mother - Pastor Raj is a lightweight.

And i pity him for it. Why can't he be like former Pastor Nick Woo? A shouter from the pulpit, full of fiery tongues and fists of determination? Why can't he preach like the old-school heroes, on the prophetic and the end times? Why can't he master the art of rambling so that people think he's just bad at telling jokes? And why for the sake of all that is sanctified and angelic doesn't he wear a suit on Sunday?

Oh Raj, you tear my tender heart in two. I know seminary is doing you good, even though it doesn't always translate into a substantial Sunday message (according to those rabid salt eaters who've apparently given up rice). But you're the most relational pastor i've ever met. I love you for that. You keep it really Real =)

HOWEVER. Dude, what's with the lack of emphasis on issues pertaining to mother Israel's holy struggle? I mean great chips and sauce; but i want my meat and potatoes too, so buck up on the sermons man. Where are my 5 P's and 7 S's all punctuated by real life sob stories? And you have to back each one up with several bible references that take the congregation a good 5 minutes to find after you've moved on to the next point. Dude... come on, i hate telling you how to do your job but it's my duty as a prayer warrior (and i Rrrrock the corrugated gates of hell baby) to keep things in line man.

And Raj, i hate to question your motives but i hear murmurs coming from some very specific corners in church man. They sound a bit like Hotel California when you play the reel backwards, except they're all female though just as husky. So i'm gonna level with your alright? ooo-kay? you ready for the blow mr. stick-to-my-principles-cos-i-think-this-is-where-God's-leading-the-church? You ready to take it like a man? (and a good role model i might add.. hee hee) You wanna be up there talking down to people you gotta be ready to take the heat okayyy??? So here it is man...

Why don't you wish people good morning when they greet you? Who do you think you are man? I'm sorry but I think the minimum is one doctorate before you're allowed to walk around with your nose in the air like that. So please come off your high horse, pull up your socks, and get on with the job. We're all here to support you. Let's go back into the word lah Raj? Can or not? Let's go deep, okay? Let's get on with building a mighty church shall we?

In Jesus name i pray... Amen. Oh... and save Isreal o' merciful and benevolent Father, from those uncircumcised Philistine Bastard-Cocksuckers... Amen Again.

*I just felt a little more than expressive after this morning's conversation with my mom. It's what pissed me off so much. AND she's serious about Raj not wishing people good morning. Holy hell... she and her posse of post middle-aged freaks need so much love and patience - as well as a strong course of hormone replacement therapy.

Among the more petty accusations i've heard is why didn't Raj go to church camp this year? The "family" needed him. Why did he pick this momentous occasion to disappear? And why are the young people so apathetic when it comes to Friday night service? And are we under threat of becoming more Anglican, now that he's supposedly studying under that umbrella?

I think it boils down to the fact CLGC is a place the aunties and uncles no longer recognize. The older folks who grew up (haha... notice i didn't say mature) on ex-pastor Nick's style are feeling displaced. And, they're clutching very hard to the last vestiges of a church that used to feel like their second home.

The church is in the hands of the young people now. We really are the new generation and we've certainly arrived. Personally, this is the first time CLGC is being moulded by radical thoughts, words and actions that belong to you and me - not the man behind the pulpit. Consider the discussions about removing the stage that've been bouncing back and forth between the worship team members - those are our collective thoughts and that decision is ours to make. And they exclude the wishes of the older folk. So what are we to do?

Patience, love and understanding on both parts. How do we get there? For starters Raj can say 'morning' to my mom ;-) and for the rest of us, i guess we have to judge for ourselves. Maybe i need to spend more time talking instead of cussing WITH my mom (yeah, she yells cheebai when's she mad too, though not as passionately as before). That'll be hard. Really hard. Really hard like i'd-rather-be-shovelling-crap hard. She's gonna have to co-operate and not slap me over the head for talking about it here.. haha..

Those lovable old crazies need to be remembered; and if we feel unanimously led by the Spirit, loved as well!!! Haha.. Just kidding. Just something to think about i suppose. Cos we dont want to alienate them. I mean it's malicious fun, but against our religious beliefs unfortunately. I may just be talking crap. I'm seriously full of myself and extremely self righteous. If anything, i hope you found it entertaining.

2007-07-12T10:03:00.002+08:00

ROLE MODELLING

Hey peeps,

Anyone got a bible superhero of faith to recommend for my personal study? I'm going to disregard the fact that the "study your bible and pray everyday route" is the easy Christian answer to my predicament. On paper, it looks like a good option. I mean people will let you down, no doubt. And of course the bible is infallible and so it Jesus Christ. But in reality, where the rest of us are forced to live, i think application is going to be a tad difficult.

Just like the - i can't remember if its the 10 or 15 minute - kneel down. It's a great idea, and it definately works for some people, in some schools, in some countries. Personally, i wouldn't do it. I would look like a religious idiot for starters. I know that would alienate most of my non-Christian friends. Have a little empathy; if your Buddhist or Muslim or Hindu friend out of the blue got on his knees and chanted, for the sake of your soul no doubt, you'd feel very odd. If the kneel-down works for you, keep it up! But if it isn't something you wholeheartedly believe in, it'll fizzle out like all Christian fads.

Anyways, you can bounce those pros and cons till forever.

I know for a fact people consider me a bad role model (or a if i should be a role model of any sort really). I recall someone asking Jason "the Tank" Tong if i should be on the worship team. I sometimes wonder about that myself... haha. Besides the fact Christians are as judgemental as they are righteous, what makes a good role model depends on your personal credo for life.

So if you valued a person who didn't swear, who didn't like to drink and who would not tolerate same sex marriages, then i wouldn't be too popular in your books. It all depends on the values we think will bring us closer to God. I don't want to ignore my humanity or my place in this world. And i want to succeed at what the Lord wants for me on this earth as well. How we balance that is, as they say, up to interpretation. One value that should never be up for interpretation is humility - which means you consider others better than yourself before pouring out any advice. And i'm really condemning myself on this one but then again we're all in the same boat. So i don't feel too bad. haha...

Sorry for the rambling.

I can't even remember what this post was about. haha.

Oooh Right ..... i'm needy. I want love and affection. I want cuddling. So don't hate me, and invite me to all your parties and gatherings and share your chocolates with me. And when you see me, tell me i'm dressed nice, that you think i have taste, style and panache. And occasionally, for no reason, smile at me. I'll think you're weird but nice smiles make life so much more bearable.

okay.

I think i'm done with this post. As a parting shot, we all need people to model the bible in action. And we need to model it ourselves. And i need to shut the crap up. Bring us the Kingdom LORD!!!!!

2007-06-21T10:14:00.000+08:00

Anger Management

Previous blog entries of mine were somewhat peppery. Liberal usage of swear words, though therapeutic, were uncalled for and personal savageries are certainly not gentlemanly. But anger management is not what i need. What I need are role models.

I'm starving for those actually. I think it's especially true if you don't have a strong father figure. Mine's a bit of a limp dick i'm ashamed to say. I was bestowed the opportunity to watch him in action the other day, giving his all to play the concerned father for the benefit of a middle aged lady friend over dinner. Felt like saying, "Come on dad, if you want to fuck her, fuck her." Be a man and ask her straight up if that's what she wants. Why stoop so low as to feign gentlemanly behaviour, dishing her food, asking about her health or my fuckin' career? Is that the stock from which i came? I am devastated. He's a pathetic example of a dad, and even in a pen of overweight pigs on heat, he'd still be the least seductive porker.

Needless to say, i'll pass on that fine specimen. Luckily my auxiliary avenues show more promise. There's church, with at least 2 or 3 guys whom God chose to bless with all of the required two testicles for malehood. The rest seem to opt for hermaphrodite hell either by sporting moobs (man-boobs), wearing pastels or placing themselves under doors as mats. Maybe they too lacked proper father figures to show them the way. Oh well... to each his own.

Outside of that circle are my carnal, licentious and hedonistic buddies. These guys, i have quite a bit of respect for. Apart from their fairly common binge drinking habit, they are the sweetest, most responsible and level headed individuals i know. They let loose when its time to party, they bleed with its time to work, and they listen when their girlfriends are unwinding after a long, tough day at work. How schweeet!!! But that's surface behaviour lah. I wouldn't vouch for them just yet. Appearances count for peanuts really.

So i'm still searching for the definitive alpha male. The one i want to emulate, the one whose legacy of righteousness and honour i want to continue, the one who gets up in the morning and sees nothing but new possibilities. The one who loves life and looks forward to all its battles.

I wonder, is there such a man?

2007-06-04T16:34:00.000+08:00

pssst... hey ya....

I'm sorry. I know i've been mad and angry and just nuts. And i know i took it out on you, partially. I was severe and then some. Not my best moment. Hope you won't let it affect our friendship too much =)

2007-05-28T18:21:00.000+08:00

You Talking To Me?

Here's something for you to chew on - is presumption the sin of ignorance or prejudice?

A friend read my blog and took it upon her kindly soul to suggest the real reasons for my emotional outbursts. She also asked that i introspectively consider why i am, the way i am. That's all good and well because nobody is above correction. Bear in mind though, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I had very specific people in mind when i wrote those blog entries. If you want names, come right up and ask me. Maybe i'll tell you, maybe i'll won't. It depends on whether i have enough regard for you, or whether i think you're just a numb-nut. I can separate the two easily because those who ask are usually the ones that deserve a cursory glance and a mental fuck-off.

The short and sweet of it all is that there are some who are respected as 'mature' Christians but are retarded as human beings. They go chivalrously riding around on their moral high horses shouting orders at ppl who are weaker and meaker. They have the cheek to judge which cliques have their stamp of approval and which don't. Instead of heading straight up and adressing who they deem to be negative influences, they prey on my friends who are softer and less likely to argue back.

I am not an innocent who is constantly misjudged. I am hot-headed, emotional, and hateful. Please get your facts right. The problem is not about understanding one another, but that there are "mature" Christians who have no understanding of what it means to be conscientious. I'll give you an example.

My mother spends a hell of a lot of time in prayer groups and bible studies. Fine by me. This morning i broke my spectacles and took them to fix at my regular guy. She feels he's full of hot air. Nevermind that he charges me next to nothing everytime clumsiness gets the better of me. He's humble and always offers top notch service. But when he stopped to offer advice on her own pair of glasses, my mom actually told him rudely to talk less and keep his hands moving because her son is late for work. He was taken aback and hurt. I was appalled. This is the Lord's mighty prayer warrior? Who attends Hebrew bible studies and is one of IPN's most faithful? Go on and tell me another one!

By all means have an opinion of your own, but don't sum me up without knowing the full story; don't assume i'm petitioning for sympathy because everyone disapproves of me. And i am sure as hell not about to accept this sort of flaws in ppl. I know love covers a multitude of sins, but don't use that as an excuse. As far as i'm concerned, all you offer are easy Christian answers. You think you know acceptance? May i suggest you make an introspective list about who you accept and who you don't?

I hope you're still bemused and not taking offence. It's nothing personal, just setting the record straight.

2007-05-21T12:39:00.001+08:00

Haha... sorry folks.

I need to apologise for being a pompous prick. I realise in more instances that i'd care to admit, i'm as much an extremist as the next grass munching nutcase. It's just that there's so much anger and discontent - which i'm sure i'm expressing the wrong way. Then again, maybe not.

I hate second guessing myself. But when i think about it, i realise i've grown up with all this God-damned Christian speak about delivering chastisement in 'love'. Now, i'm less concerned that everyone has their own interpretation what it means to tell the truth in love, but the cheaptricks who preach these messages with such soul searing conviction DO NOT live it out themselves. And i feel so bitter because for the longest time, i spent so much of myself trying to reconcile the fact that some of these people who were supposed to be good examples were behaving like fuck-twits. So what if you have a rostrum holding up your bible? So fucking what? Speaking from behind a pulpit is the least of validations.

It's not that i don't respect God's word. It's simply to easy to fake an inspired message. If you preach it, you sure as hell make sure you walk it out too.

I think we're all in desperate need of a reality check. You, me, us, and them.

2007-05-17T09:50:00.000+08:00

The Problem With CLGC

As with most churches, the problem with mine is that it's filled with people that are unlike each other. If we all grew up the same - ate the same food, were taught the same ideals, followed the same examples, wore the same clothes even - then we would never have any problems. Nobody would differ in opinion. Some say that's a good thing, like those extremist nuts the Nazis and the Khmer Rouge. Murderous and oppresive, they wanted a world that was either tall, blond and blue eyed or absolutely agrarian.

Extremists. That's my theme today. Cos i look around my church and i see extemists. I mean know why they exist. These are usually the ones who want to live in a safe bubble, where everything is predictable and fair. No arguments, no fights, no jealously and they hope, no unhappiness. The only problem is that we would all have to be clones of each other. If you don't have a problem with that, then be my guest. Go join a bubble, live in it and i'll be happy for you.

The thing that fucks me up, are the Christian oppressives, who live in quiet condemnation of those who prefer to have opinions of their own (opinions that differ usually). Apart from the obvious self-righteousness, they feel that every thought, word and deed that is not like theirs deserves to be questioned. For instance, some Christians feel alcohol should be absolutely off limits to anyone who profess to be born again. They bring out scriptures chiselled into granite slabs to prove their points. They also feel it's their God given duty to stop others who seem to be veering off the path of righteousness.

Here's something to bear in mind. If you cannot love a person who refuses to change, then you cannot change a person at all. Or rather you shouldn't be even trying. These are the fucking extremists who have lost touch with the world around them. They, forget that unless people know you love them and accept them no matter what, no will listen to your hypocritical preaching. And they, don't give you a chance to defend yourself. They just load up and fire away till they're out of ammo. The targets are usually those who don't defend themselves, the meeker ones.

So what do we do? Well i for one do not plan to be a Christian Nazi, so i guess i'll have to learn to love these people for who they are.But right now i'm doing the cowardly thing. I'm avoiding them. I simply turn and walk away, or i limit conversation as much as possible. I'm not that selfless yet. I really couldn't care less if they wanna be the inadvertent bastard children of the Third Reich.

hahahaha...

HOWEVER - the bottom line isssssssssssss, we're all still family at church. Or are we? What if your the Nazi i'm referring to? We say we love each other, and we want to be accepting and loving and all that fuck-twit talk, but i think very few people want to be family with each other (or with me). We're still deeply divided, and we still have fucking idiots who try to tell others which are the acceptable groups and which you should stay away from. But i'm digressing.

So I salute you Nazi pricks before i leave for an ice cold beer with a buxomy lady friend who's only rule to living is never to be hurt again. She was madly in love lah with some asshole who made her have an abortion while he cheated with a few girls. How am i going to be a good Christian example to her? oh i know, i'll impress with my principles about abstinence from sex! I'll read scripture about how a God she has no idea of, loves her and knew about her before she was made. WOW... Won't that be life changing! Then, i'll tell her what the bible says about abortion, and what we Christians believe is right or wrong. She'lls turn from her evil ways i tell you, and be in church next Sunday to give encouraging testimony.

Hail! Hail! Hail!

When You Just Want To Say Fuck-Off, Say Fuck-Off.

2007-05-10T09:30:00.000+08:00

When You Just Want To Say Fuck-Off, Say Fuck-Off.

That's going to be my mantra from now on. Why suffer the insufferable? Why sit there and take shit from other assholes and allow some little fucking twerp to fuck-up your day?

God help me not to swear, but sometimes, you just have to tell the bitchy folk to go fuck themselves. Life is too short, too precious, and too worth-while.

God help the next cocksucker who rubs me the wrong way.

Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

That's how satisfying it will be......

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................. FUCK OFF!!!

But then again, it's not like i'm some angelic non-cocksucking pussy-ass ma'fucker who really has very small balls. So if you have a problem with me, please come fucking knee me squarely between my thighs. Throw your hips forward and your kneecap up into my scrotum and then we'll all roll about the floor laughing our guts out.

Like this....................
HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA - Fucking Bitches - HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Bring it Assholes, just bring it.

simple ardour

2007-04-20T20:55:00.000+08:00

Did i ever mention it became my CNY resolution to move out by the end of the year? I realise it's not that i hate answering to my mom when i come home at 6 in the morning. Or that i'm in need of personal space or that i want to prove i'm all grown up (even though all three options help motivate me from time to time). It's simply because i want to know i can do it.

But now honestly i feel a little pathetic, since moving out is really a miniscule achievement. I mean everyone does it. Why should it be such a big deal for me that i have laud it from my blog? Perhaps it's because i've been a mama's boy all this time, suckling unfairly on an udder that should've been yanked from me years ago. Okay... sick mental picture there. Moving on.

I remember washing my first load of laundry when i first arrived in Perth and could no longer find clean clothing. It was weeks since i'd ran out of underwear but now even i couldn't stand my own stench. I was damn proud lah... slotting in those coins, pouring in soap, timing my watch, and hanging them out to dry after that. Felt like i'd chiselled another milestone in my life. You should have seen me beam.

So yeah, would be nice to know i can clean up after myself again. Hold together a respectable room so that female friends can come over and immediately feel right at home - simply because they're a much more accurate yardstick for what constitutes a home.

Got nine full months before my deadline. Here goes.

smooches on my lips

2007-04-20T16:23:00.000+08:00

I'm was dying a month ago for a scenery change, so i took up some friends on an offer to go drinking. Met them through a girl i used to go out with. I almost didn't make it on account of that ex-gf who made some weird shuffling noises with her lips. Not to say the words were unintelligible but they confused me somewhat. Or maybe it's just that girls are generally hard to understand. This is truly unneccesary digression, but in short, she had some mad idea i'd hook up with one of her friends. Now does that make sense to you? Girls aren't allowed to answer this one.

So i made it to this little bar that stood overlooking a public pool. Never been there before, but my sister says she went once and left after 15 minutes calling it the ultimate pariah hangout. Still, the company was nice. There was Shanti whom i met at the office two days before. Deviga, who i tried to chat up via sms to pathetic results and Shereen, who struck me as demure and dull, until she and Shanti started grinding themselves on the dancefloor. Really odd stuff. I didn't spend too much time enjoying the view cos Shanti's bf was around and he still looked sober.

Right. So we started drinking vodka. The girls felt i was a littel nervy, so they kept filling my glass. Obviously my soaking in the crowd, making cheap chatter and generally looking like i didn't give two flying fucks wasn't working. That whole rebel-without-a-cause crap only works with pre-pubescent girls i think.

So anyways, we drank till Shanti fell on her bottom and i was muttering the weirdest compliments about Deviga having great teeth. We danced as well, and i was jiggying with Deviga who was in fancy dress - she came as an aunty on her merry way to buy fish. But that happy experience was cut short when i looked to my left and saw this chubby 12-year-old girl who had come to celebrate her b'day with her extended family. Somehow, she just killed the mood lah for locking hips with anyone.

So yeah... that's my blog entry for you mae, hope u enjoyed the read. More to come i hope.

2007-01-24T11:39:00.000+08:00

Take your smile into the desert
Dry it out on the grainy winds
Walk it under the scorching sun
Show it to the burning rocks
and endless dunes.

Take your smile into the desert
Wrap around it thick darkness
Crouch with it through the cold
Expose it to the starry stillness
and senseless distance.

a little more in my palm

2007-01-19T11:16:00.000+08:00

ohhh yeahhhh..... and a high five for geriatric bible studies.

Two nights ago, i had my first KLTI group discussion. This is so rude, but, I hate old people. I certainly am not malicious - impatient and petulant maybe - but not malicious. Arriving at class intent on paying my full attention to the lecture, my gusto was all but sapped when Paulina announced we would be divided according to the color of our t-shirts for the group discussions. (OKay... so maybe i was not paying a LOT of attention to the lesson, but i was really excited about the discussions =)

Unlucky me, cos i was wearing my favourite color-me-sallow t-shirt. And just as it must be, the cruel law of irony that holds our universe together rears it's pock-marked and unmoisturized head to reveal that... sallow is the gaudy new black for aunties this season.

So i was made to endure a painful, gratingly, slow death.

What did i try telling myself throughout my ordeal? Shut your mouth boy and prick up those ears - these aunties have had more salt than you've had rice and fresh air combined.

I swore and i struggled and i fought tooth and the occasional nail. In the end i realised i should just try to enjoy their company. I'm so busy looking for some golden nugget of wisdom or being dutifully patient and understanding to their sometimes off target rants that i ended up stressing myself even more.

Truth be told, i'd rather be shovelling crap than sit through another session like that. But... if it came down to t-shirt colors again, and my team consisted of slow talking, fast babbling senior members of my extended family at wonderful CLGC, i'll put on a smile and enjoy myself as best i can.

Big grins for the Lord people!

Personals...

2007-01-17T15:49:00.000+08:00

Pam and George Martinez gave some of us boys a no-nonsense, straight talking prayer book before they left. It had 365 entries, one for each day of the year. In the first few pages (i've only gotten that far) there's an admonishment about being fatally ashamed for things we do not surrender to God.

I made one such blunder today.

I had a thing i knew i should have asked God about, but i went ahead and dived in head first. As usual, the pool had been emptied for maintenance and i came up feeling like an idiot.

You see, I was sms-ing a friend, making grandiose statements about surrendering my life to God and His most divine purposes for me. My friend then asked me something, or made a point rather. But being overly brilliant for my own good, I misread those intentions and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. But just before i hit the 'send' button, i heard a little voice of caution. I hesitated and then said to myself, "Oh come on... it feels good to declare one's everlasting love."

So the button was hit.

=) I flushed pink with embarassment as soon as a curt reply came back. I know that some people think it's impossible for a tanned (not black, mae) person to show pink in their cheeks. Maybe it's hard to spot, but i definately felt a flush of heat. I could only smile idiotically and have a laugh at myself - False pretenses revealed, selfish plots exposed.

I'm sure my friend doesn't think too much of it. But it's not the words that matter. It's the heart of it all, and how i deceive myself into thinking all the wrong things. So much for keeping my focus on God. A lesson re-learnt is a lesson... well... no less problematic really.

noteworthy mentions.

2007-01-12T11:01:00.000+08:00

Cary is going away. She's flying off to new life and adventure, to bask in the sunny rays of tropical Watford and discover herself as an event manageress. What more could a girl want? I'm envious, slightly jealous and purposefully resentful. I'm going to turn my simmering bitterness against my lethargy - Good Job Cary, You're My Inspiration To Reach For The Stars!!!

*hallmark moment... couldn't resist =) But really, if there's anyone who has the goods for the task, i'd go all in with my chips on you.

Ee Mae on the other hand has just received a promotion. Her boss sat her down over an extended breakfast and laid his cards bare - "I need you, like i've never needed you," (this is my blog, my thoughts, my interpretations =P). What's a small town babe who loves nothing more than to be of service to do?

"Here are my conditions fool, meet them or eat my dust," she replied curtly. From then on it was a matter of convincing her that business class tickets were just as comfortable as first - she's going to be made to fly a lot. And what does she do after that meeting? She buys me, des and eddy lunch. Way To Go Girl! You've Got Both The Oyster And The Pearl.

I've heard it being said that God works in mysterious ways. I think that's a stupid thing to say so that clueless people can just say something. He works in ways He wants to work in, and what's best for us. And He loves delighting His children.

Thanks God, For Keeping Up With The Good Work. Thumbs Up To You.

my road is turning again.

2007-01-09T19:16:00.000+08:00

25.

That's what i'll be in a couple of months. For once in my life i'm thinking about the numbers. Not in the way women do, as if they were being handed life sentences, but with little furrows on my eyebrows.

What have i given for my 25 years on this planet? I'm not saying "woe is me, i've wasted so much time here, i haven't been the beacon of hope and light i should have."

Some years were horrible, some very wonderful, and others were forgettable. Life hasn't been all peaches and cream but neither has it been an utter hell-hole. It's just been what it has been. But there's a sense of regret somewhere - the impeaching question of "what if..." irks me from time to time.

But i'm not beating myself up over it. I only do that when i hate who i am, because i feel i don't measure up. And for what seems like the first time in 25 years, i'm actually proud and happy with who i am. But a good pride, not from feeling superior or propping up my self esteem with distorted imagery. God's original design for me is a good one, and it's the only one that works.

intermittent flashes of brilliance

2007-01-01T15:39:00.000+08:00

Was i overly clinical? I decided this year, since Christmas cheer was a secondhand emotion derived from those who actually look forward to the season rather than fond longings of my own, i'd swallow some steel wool in place of the fuzzy warmness one gets from singing Feliz Navidad at the top of their lungs.

I know it's not really about snow and brightly lit trees or even the presents, but a time to love and appreciate people. Oh... and to evangelise too, as far as church musicals go. But still, i couldn't muster the delight and cherubic grins people usually display at this time of year. Maybe some blusher would have helped.

After that was New Year's. The countdown in church was, surprisingly, really good. Year after year we do the same thing - worship (special mention to Huey who did a good job), wholesome testimonies, and then the counting backwards thing. This year we hugged each other as we counted, can't remember if we did that last year, but it was ticklish so i chuckled... only a little... by force. But i got bored way before that and went to throw little children against mattresses - i was careful so as not to whiplash their scrawny necks =)

Anyways, it was good because everyone looked so happy wishing God's providence on each other (Christians aren't allowed to say good luck cos that sort of thing doesn't exist). There were a lot of hugs going around and i stayed in the sound room till the initial euphoria died down a little before venturing out to wish my friends.

Am i so down about the celebrations because i'm feeling the new year is merely a change of date? I can't remember feeling this apathetic before. I know in my head things have changed for me, and i'm not entering 2007 the same man i was in 2006. But still, i'm unexcited. My blood isn't coursing through my veins with purpose, it's just doing a job.

Just three things on my new year wish list.
I hope God's magic finger touches me, and i return to vigour as soon as possible.
I hope the consequences of the year before dies with it. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
I hope i discover who i was made to be.

Rebel Who's Lost His Cause

2006-12-05T16:06:00.000+08:00

Been spending one day a week in the hallowed chambers of the church office meeting room revealing my deeper, darker secrets to Raj. Playing the part of intercessory therapist, he's been helping me sound out the motivations of my heart. Pretty fruitful so far - the last one saw him explaining to me that part of growing up involves tempering my emo-rocket fuel with navigational gizmos so i don't go firing off in the wrong directions. Hot Damn. Feels like i need a total rewiring. =)

On to other more importants ramblings. God damn i missed Soul Action. The essence of it rather, cos i couldn't relate to the testimonies and tearful stories. I mean it was all massively touching but i wasn't there to pick up trash or scoop goop out of drains. So i couldn't feel it as viscerally as Colin or Aunty Lei Wah or Des or whoever. No wet cheeks for me. Wish i been more a part of the festivities though.

2006-11-20T01:30:00.000+08:00

Circumcision v.s. Childbirth

Referring to the rites of passage growing-up boys and girls must endure, Paulina puts it as succintly as i've ever heard. From her perspective, i think we all agree the guys have it somewhat easier. But that's digressing.

We were talking about personal wounds. She was reading how, after African boys had their excesses trimmed, they go into huts where they stay in solitude until they heal and emerge with new stature. So while i've been out tiring my bones, i have to realise some injuries, need to be dealt with alone. No use running a thousand miles only to face another sleepless night. Gotta stay in my hut and meditate, talk to my Maker in all honesty about why i'm so messed up.

I don't need stature, but i do need to grow up. After years of falling on my knees and wiping the subsequent tears with the hemlines of pretty skirts, all i know is this routine cannot go on. It's wrong.

Love isn't...

2006-11-02T11:15:00.000+08:00

One of these days i'm going to write a song and sing it. Since i'm the most needless and hopeless romantic, it will be a song about a broken heart. A heart that's been dragged through a mire of disappointments, jealousy, anger, pride, selfishness and lust.

So much for a love song. So much for falling in love. So much for silencing my conscience.

*****************************************************************************

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

falling prey

2006-10-31T17:18:00.000+08:00

Prayers are like incense correct? Wafting slowly heavenward and seeping into God's knowledge, i'm hoping mine come closer than all others just for the moment. But how can anyone not have the strength to do what is right? If it's right, it can be done. To say doing the right thing is unasailable is to say there is no hope. That cannot be true because God is Hope as much as He is Love.

Am i confusing myself with Christian-speak?

God is for me.

2006-10-30T11:52:00.000+08:00

Can you hurt God? Take a knife at Him and stab at His heart over and over again? After exhausting yourself, you realise He won't try fighting back at all. He just lays there and bleeds all over Himself. His doesn't say anything, but His eyes are deep with emotion. So deep i dare not look, because they will remind me of what i am and then i'll want to turn the knife on myself. He cares so much and He wants me so much and He doens't stop wanting me at all - not for one moment.

Who is this God? Why does He choose to be this way? Why am i receiving love like this? I want to know. Why does He choose to save me and not others? Why does He offer me a way out, to wholeness and life abundantly when there are others who are hurting even more? Who need Him even more than i do? Won't they screw themselves up even more?

I hate the way He is sometimes. So yes, i'm disappointed with You. For saving me and not other people who are so crazy and so lost. What happens to them Lord? Will You not offer them a way out? I don't understand You at all. Hit me back please, and hit me hard. Unlock the tears i'm crying in my heart. Make me double over and cry without ceasing. I want to love others like You do. Teach me. You're just so ridiculous.

and so it dies...

2006-10-11T18:12:00.000+08:00

My name is a small obscure one. It consist of four letters and had two thirds of its original syllables cut off because my parents (or just my mom) thought it might be too long for me to spell. I've been carrying it with me everywhere i go and to some extent, i hate it. I remember it on school notebooks, name tags, and having it stretched thin on the impatient tones of school teachers - all of which were ladies sporting upper lip hair. My name does not have any rhythm, cadence or timbre. It's called out in one stabbing utterance and, i always answer to it.

I appreciate it from time to time though. It actually means 'God remembers' so that's pretty special. I much prefer it to something mundane, like John or against something stupid, like a Ricky. I always have this idea you can never take any man who's name ends with an 'eeee' sound seriously, like Bobby, Johny, Tommy, and the ubiquitous Rocky.

Filing for divorce

2006-08-26T23:52:00.000+08:00

"Hello there, my name is Zech."

"Hi, my name is Luscious Hair Over A Pretty Face."

"Oh that's a nice name, where are you from Luscious?"

"Around here actually, I live nearby."

"You're kidding me, i thought maybe you could be South American or something."

"Haha... No no, i'm very much local. Not even half as exotic as that."

"That's nice. So what are you doing here?"

"I'm a guest, just dropped by to meet people and widen my contacts."

"That's a good idea. It's always a helpful to have a wide list of contacts."

"Here's my card."

"Here's mine."

Is God about pain relief? Is He in the business of making me feel great or straighthening me out? I'm sorry Lord, i won't take myself out of Your hands again. If it needs to hurt then let it hurt. If my heart needs to break then it can break. I'll do whatever You want because You are ALWAYS right. I realise i've never had a sweeter more contrite spirit than in the most painful places - that's proof enough for me. Just hope my pain threshhold won't undermine my grand resolutions.

2006-08-26T23:23:00.000+08:00

Dear Lord,

You've always appeared in the most unexpected ways. Just when things were getting too tough or i was getting too confused, you appeared and protected me. Sometimes you gave me understanding, and i started to see the fruits you caused me to bear. That was nice, like you washed away all my anxiety, all my hatred, all my hurt and replaced it with two huge feet. Feet that could walk anywhere, take me to any person and i would have no fear introducing myself. I could feel brokeness adn humility tempering my tone and words.

Now i feel defeated, like i've let down everyone and everything is going to hell. How to find it in me to have the courage to go on and finish what i started in You? Faith right? So i still have to crease my lips into a smile even when i don't feel like it? =)

Here are my arms failing me, catch them if You mean to, or let them fall. Whatever happens, You're still God and i am not.

Where is my Lord?

2006-08-25T14:41:00.000+08:00

This weekend will be different because i'll be looking for God. I've got these questions that i don't know what to do with. Maybe this weekend He might show up in church with a placard and the answers highlighted in green. Or in the midst of an alter call, and goop coming out of my nose, I'll feel someone shove a piece of paper into my hands. I'll open my eyes but no on will be around me and written in gold will be a divine message. Okay lah, i'll make it easy on Him - word of knowledge la... from the visiting preacher, good enough for me.

Or maybe not. I want the answers so i won't have to be so stressed out trusting Him. Shame on me. Shame, shame, shame. I already know i haven't got the world's strongest faith. So what about it being built up day by day? Does it mean it gets easier? Feels like God turns up the heat everytime you grasp something. You think yes! I undestand now and i know what it's all about. And then out of nowhere He prods your spirit a little... and you realise you know nothing. If anything, He's showing me the true content of my heart. It's simply f-ing demoralising to have to constantly beat down a monster that just won't f-ing die.

Fear is not my oldest friend, doubt is. Sorry Lord, i'll try again. Maybe Al Pacino was right when he likened life to a game of NFL football - you have to fight one inch at a time. Sometimes you have to claw your way through, other times, well... i just have to believe.

see what des dug up from the deepest recesses of his hardrive.

2006-07-13T14:25:00.000+08:00

*you know how ppl have break-up songs, well this was my break story - one of the most cathartic things i've ever written. It funny reading it now, and remembering how it made me feel.

Coming To Terms With Arial

I'm in the student village at Uni - in one of the more expensive rooms that come with landscaped gardens. It's about three stones' throws away from my own slim walled, blue brick one, that has only got prickly shrubs. I'm sitting with my hands resting on the long black table that reaches across the room, facing a window. The weather is nice and cool because it's early evening nearing winter - maybe about five. I have a spacey look in my eyes and a gentle crease on my forehead. The door to the room is open behind me. I just sit there and gaze into emptiness.

She's home, and enters uttering a greeting. I'm not paying attention but I mumble something back. I realize now I do not remember any words, just the sound of her voice. Probably because I've heard it so many times it's stopped becoming special and more like a mundane tune announcing that another day has ended. She puts her bag on the bed behind my right shoulder. Removes her shoes and maybe a jacket to put on a hanger. She comes to me. I still sit there like a stone.

She moves on and shuffles up some scattered papers… picks up after me… asks' what we're having for dinner. I hear the words and decipher the message. Regretfully nothing registers. She talks some more and I still respond like a mannequin. We get through the night somehow by which time I find myself already in bed, next to her. She's resting her temple on my chest, I have an arm wrapped around her. I kiss her forehead. And the slumber goes on. I wonder if I ever got up in the first place. I must have, because we fell in love once.

All this and still ... still I want to write only in Arial. Still I swear her influence to be sacrosanct. I get angry, I get depressed and I'm clinging on to sweet dreams that are only in my head. My dear life bound to this sweet, uncomplicated font. I let out big fat sighs when I think of those times. I'll tell people they are sighs of regret or longing, but really they are smokescreens of vapor, warm air and a convincing actor. Admittedly it's not hard to see through them but at least they dupe the actor himself. Disolving away, I'm a hurt little boy.

I fooled myself.

I'm so not her type. Running and tumbling over myself like a child down a hillock is my idea of a good time. I'll chug beer but she'd rather twirl her wine and savor its aftertaste. I can chuckle about it now that it's over, how we were two separate beings in an even stranger environment. She was to say the least, somewhat dignified, with a poise that was all her own. For me at least, she wrote the book on Singaporean bourgeoisie, never looking out of place in posh eateries or snooty clothes stores. But in the same breath, she could be absolutely gangly and adorable.

I come back to her every time I sit in the office with a Word document open before me, as I'm typing out stories. Poking at the alphabets furiously, it will hit me after the first few sentences that I'm using the wrong font. No No No. This cannot be. I must only use Arial. I hear a stubborn voice in my heart reminding me. Only Arial! It's what she showed me which I adopted on that black table in her room. I'm not letting go of that now. Don't know if I'm perversely tugging my sentimentalities on purpose or if I frankly cannot walk away and not give a damn. My friends will happily vouch for that latter talent of mine though. I have a feeling even she will.

Some time from now, she will fall in love again. She'll talk of beautiful children with anime inspired names like she used to with me. I will close my eyes and say a short prayer of thanksgiving. That however, will not stop the occasional flinch. The wonderful stitches holding my heart together, I suspect, will loosen no matter if the hand of God laced them in place. I'll smile as I feel the stinging freshness of a graze getting wet and speak encouraging words. "That's wonderful news" or the more enduring "I'm so happy for you". Surely I will not be alone either. I will have my own companion to which to devote my heart. We would have grown up into proper adults but it will still feel like I was a child, running through a field high as a kite only to trip and break some skin. Some wounds, will always be susceptible to a little salt.

So yeah… maybe I will quit this whole Arial business. Burn my old love letters. Even cut my hair short again. No reason to leave it long now. No reason for much else if I stopped to think. You get this cruel domino effect when you build your life around someone because when that person isn't there anymore, everything else goes with them, one by one. All I need is heart. Heart enough to go through with my resolution.

But the tragedy of irony, dark and ripe, is inescapable. So much more so when in shoes like mine. Irony knows exactly where and when to gently tug at your shoulder, and whisper the stark parenthesis of your predicament. I want to cry but no matter how hard I scrunch my eyes, no tears fall. I want to laugh stupidly to myself but I end up choking and feeling like a good hurl might actually be in order. For as much as I need heart for strength, it's precisely my heart that will tear me down. Simple memories like walking home from grocery shopping with her jog up such intense emotions I almost crumble in a heap of shivers. I could be doing something totally unrelated, like staring blankly out the window of a car and suddenly my heart is vice-gripped with longing. Like being flung into the deep end of a pool and then fighting tooth and nail against froth and bubbles for the surface. I didn't even have time to brace myself with a gulp of air. Dramatic huh?

Anyway, I've called her. Out on my mosquito infested balcony we spoke. Underneath clothes hung out to dry, with my dad paying for the hour long hand-phone bill which passed as quickly as anxious words fly out of anxious hearts. She was careful not to aggravate me. Told me reassuringly no one will take her heart anytime soon. Sure he's been paying her a lot of attention. Sure she enjoys the tickles he gives. For sure their affection can only grow stronger. Oh the tremors and trembles coursing through me, electrifying every fiber. Not angry. Not sad either. Just trying really, really hard to let go. Not to let my mind wander and flesh out characters in the shadows in embrace.

I have to forget, if not it will eat me like cancer. You don't just rot away, you get all bitter too. God knows I’m only human. But I do wish you the best Wengyan. With all my heart. For you and for him.

Not faltering now. Moving up and moving forward. Nothing left for me to go back to. I've decided this is my new start. This is my catalyst for new beginnings. This is irony again and again proving the bitter sweet and faithful companion. What will my next chapter be like? A very thankful one I think. It's the simple things in life that make all the difference. Like the friends from unexpected quarters offering listening ears and a job that allows me so much free time, I could write you this story. Life is fresh and there for the taking. Living it with the fear of God is what makes the pursuit worthwhile. Whether or not Arial will be around, I can't say for sure. It is a rather pretty font.

Feel the love...

2006-07-12T12:17:00.000+08:00

My best friend is Desmond Tan. He is my best friend because he is always there when i need someone to talk to. He gives me good advice - mostly he tells me to stop thinking about myself.

He is a cool guy. Des Tan knows how to look at an volatile situation and defuse it. I used to think he was a bit of a softie, but he's matured into a leader i'd want to respect and love.

Des is really a great guy to hang out with. He is a real joker, but he also loves God a lot. So if you tell him you have a problem, his first response won't be to pray about it - which is as helpful as a VCR manual in Japanese. And if you want someone to munch peanuts and have a beer with, guess who's your man...

If Des were a mutant, his superpower would be superhuman patience. How he finds it in him to think things through when i'd be ready to throw the first punch is beyond me. He's also a really humble guy, and doesn't take offense easily, unless it's about his favourite football club, Arsenal.

If there's somone i want to emulate, it would have to be him. He has a natural ability to understand people, especially girls. I'd like to have that ability, but i can't, cos i think with the wrong head too much. But yeah, he's a sincere guy that can easily hang out with different groups and cliques, in church and beyond.

I'm very thankful for a friend like Des. So this post is to him, for all that he is, and will be as he follows what God wants for him.

chatter box chatter

2006-07-11T14:58:00.000+08:00

I'm so amused by this neverending battle between the sexes - about being unable to live with or without each other. What's the point of all this again? Deep down, don't we all want someone to love and argue with? After all the moans, groans and occasionally animal-like grunts from Cary, we still yearn don't we?

Not to sound desperate - and if you actually say that to me i'll punch you - but it's the truth. After questioning where all the good men and virtuous women have gone, after swearing we'll never love again, and condemning perceived emotional offenders to a fiery end, we're still hopeful right?

It just seems a little futile to me. Why argue about the differences ? It's the differences that make love possible anyway. The only reason i can think of for nitpicking is a good laugh - at how easily the girls get worked up... hehe =)

Drinks are on me boys....

2006-06-14T11:04:00.000+08:00

The lump of soft flesh beneath my eye has been pulsating all day. I don't recall any muscles there, so what's with the weird twitching? It's irritating me slightly. Damn i wish things were different.

One of my favourite... goddamned editor (notice the small 'g') called me off for something frivolous and now i've lost my train of thought...

oh wait... i got it now.

Okay, the best Christian themed show i've ever watched was this one cartoon, about Joseph in Egypt. There's a song there, that he sings in prison. The lyrics go something like:

"Youuuuuuuuu knowwwwww better than I...."
"I've lost the need to know whyyyyyyy........"
"I'll take whatever answers you provide.........."
"Cos you know better than I......."

He was frustrated at first, cos God takes and takes and never gives back. Not only is he taken from his family, but just as soon as he makes good in Potiphar's house, his salacious wife gets him thrown in prison. So you can appreciate that the only abbreviations floating in his mind, alternated between P.U.S.H (Pray until something happens) and WTF.

But like I said, "at first".

He soon begins to realise that God is his only refuge, the only One that can help him make sense of all the madness and injustice. That, or he could just give up and turn bitter. Hmm... doesn't take a smart man to know option 1 holds more prospect.

But the quickness of your grey cells has nothing to do with character. You can make the smart choice, but do u have what it takes to live it out? I'm sure at first Joseph felt maybe, a little comforted - the four walls of his cell were less intimidating. But over time, you wonder, if God still remembers you? If He's still up there, and if He will release you into happiness and freedom soon.

Oh how your heart seems like it could break. Where is He? Why is He silent? Maybe its me... did i mess up somewhere? Go ahead Lord, judge me now and put me out of this misery.

God doesn't forget us. God may be slow to our timing, and He may be silent to our ears. But one thing i know, God knows all about heartbreak, and He cries with me everytime a wound bleeds. He knows my emotions, and He is not detached from my frivolous concerns about life.

So yeah... for that twitching eye... WTF, P.U.S.H baby.... P.U.S.H.

p.s. ask me to sing the song for you, please... i'll do a perfect rendition, totally in-key and on-time.

on being nothing...

2006-06-07T10:37:00.000+08:00

I've been having a little draught of words. Not because I haven't got anything to say, just that, nothing sounds like me. It's like the flow and rhythm of writing has suddenly disappeared. The past couple of weeks however have been rather eventful.

Remember that video about the triathlete with the son who couldn't walk or run like his dad? Well, thanks to that clip, God is now forever etched in my mind as a hard sweating athlete - pulling, pushing and carrying me through the journey of life. Are we going to win anything? Are we going to reach the finish line and claim first prize? Will there be flashing lights and adoring fans? Probably not, if we follow the analogy's logic.

So what makes the journey so special then?

Well, if I were the paraplegic, I'm pretty much a worthless piece of crap. I can't feed myself, clothe myself and I'd probably need someone to help me wipe my ass when I'm done on the bowl. People will feel so sorry for me and secretly thank God they aren't in my shoes. So yes... I'd be a lousy drain on resources with nothing to give back to anyone.

What's the difference with that and what I am right now? I can't see why I should even be here. Not like I've saved anyone from a fiery death, or given my life for anything but selfish pleasures. I haven't been a good friend to very many people. In fact I'm plain moody and I have no respect for anyone. I'm too prideful and rebellious and I go around hurting people with my words. And I demand and demand and literally strangle the life and love out of people who care about me.

What am I worth?

Was reading this article on the net, about the male psyche and it said that man was made from dust... and to dust he shall return. So really, take away all he's worth and you see, a man is worth dust. Girls on the other hand, they're made from man. So if you strip away everything, achievements and all, she doesn't go back to being nothing, she goes back to him. She's defined by him in that sense. The article says that's why women can stand to be in abusive relationships for years. But guys, if you abuse them, you tell them the truth - they are truly and absolutely nothing. This is probably why men are obsessed with leaving a legacy after they die, cos no man wants to be a 'nothing'. I think that's why guys will always say to the girl, "If you leave me, I am nothing". The girl hardly says that. She doesn't have it in her psyche that she is 'nothing'. The male ego will forever about denying this nothingness.

But we're created by God, for God. As a man who belongs to him, if you strip me away, break my body and cut me down to size, I should go back to Him. That seems like the ultimate struggle then, creating my own worth versus letting God be God and simply finding myself in him.

Like that paraplegic son, to the rest of the world, he isn't worth crap. He dies and we show a sad face, but will anyone miss him? If I die now, I'm like a dot in the sea of humanity. In the grand scheme of things, well... people will eventually move on.

But just like the paraplegic, his worth is in his father's eyes. His father said he wouldn't dream of racing without his son. His son is the very reason he races. People will never understand and they will always ask if the 'burden' ever gets too heavy. But the father knows, and he will say, "He is my son, my own, my very own. I created him and I know him and he is mine."

It's not about being a burden. He loves running, swimming and cycling with his son. Without his son, all that will have so little meaning. Likewise, if that son takes his eyes off his father, and looks around him, he loses. He will strive till he sweats blood but will never match up to anything - because this is an imperfect world that demands perfection in return for love. Stupid isn't it? Something intrinsically flawed demanding flawlessness.

The journey becomes worthwhile, when I realize while I am nothing, God loves me all the same. He loves me first before anything else. He makes my life worth anything. My only struggle is keeping my eyes on him, and not comparing myself to the world around me. I cannot create my own worth. Love is like that. You either love someone or you don't. And when you love them, it includes all their flaws and their accomplishments.

There you go. The battle rages on, and I hope I can surrender more each day to being nothing - but the apple of His eye.

Contentment in Him

2006-06-02T19:53:00.000+08:00

I'm not happy with myself - too short, too fat, too unambitious, too lazy, too unorganized, too out of freakin' key. Even if i had one million free wishes to change anything and everything in my life - i know at the end of my miraculous transformation - the problem of being happy enough to love myself, will never be answered.

This is because i've forgotten my original purpose, to have relationship with God. If i lose that, i will have lost everything, because all things are meaningless without Him who gives me purpose. The answer to every question i have ever asked is to love Him unconditionally. This concept is so revolutionary for me perhaps because i have never taken it to heart.

on heart versus head...

2006-05-19T16:32:00.000+08:00

*just some thoughts i had... i'm always open to rebuke so... help yourslef to some feedback.

Thanks Trix... for turning my blog into a potential cyber signpost for all fruitcakes and dandy boys. I'm laughing really... and i did say you could design it anyway you like. So no, this isn't a complaint. Never thought i'd be emasculated on my own blog by a 15-year-old though.

anyways...

I was just talking to Des and T-Wei last night. The debate still rages on... with both sides agreeing they should rub off on each other.

It's like this. Josh and the Rocky Mountain Duo are all heart and soul. They're gung-ho with every opportunity to make a difference in the lives of the poor. On the other hand, we have Des and the Level-Headed Groovers who prefer to think before making a move (actually... minus the groovy bit... haha).

Crudely putting it, when you're all heart, you tend to rush in without assessing potential dangers. There's less emphasis on wisdom and more on meeting a need because, hey, we've been sitting pretty on our rumps for far too long. The thinkers on the other hand, like to consider all the angles first. More often that not, that leads to the aforementioned rump basting and good opportunities may get passed up on.

Both sides agree that a balance is crucial. But where is the point of balance? Who should you listen to? Go because we should or hold back because we've never chartered that territory before?

We can talk and talk and breathe fire and still, no one can concretely point out, this is where equilibrium is. Unless of course you're underage and your parents agree you should opt out.
You have to decide for yourself, if this trip or that cause or whatever, is worth it. Listen to people's opinions, but make up your own mind.

For instance, on the way back from the Frim trip, everybody was exhausted. Still the Erb boys were adamant on visiting KDD with Josh. Murmurs in the van included... they have no transport, its going to rain, they have little idea what they're really getting into. I wasn't sure. I felt however, this was one of those times where you just gotta go for it. Anyway, i erred with popular opinion. But those guys did make a difference and have since built a good friendship with the Indons there.

Then talking to Des yesterday, i realise that, in the end, we don't know these Indons. We are acquaintences and no more. How well do we really know them? Safe enough to allow a lone girl to walk in bearing gifts and friendship? That's extreme la.... but discretion is always important. Love yes... but ask for God's wisdom and understanding. And the Holy Spirit will speak to your heart.

on being LOA...

2006-05-19T12:22:00.000+08:00

My office is partitioned into two - a larger area for the girl mags and a smaller one for us boys at Men's Health and Torque. The problem is, air conditioning gets channelled to the skinny, spaghetti strapped, shawl draped, mini skirted girls first - so every time someone has more then three goosebumps appear across their water retentioned skin, they swith the AC off. The boys then start to get all hot and sweaty (and not for desire) and whenever one of us walks over to turn the thing back on... well... the buggerettes won't let us.

So we've put up this little yellow table fan - pathetic but pragmatic. That, or we can huddle and use the strength of numbers to overcome their evil eyes!

Later tonight, i'm going for this Nando's Chicken launch of a virtual manager football game. What the heck grilled chickens have to do with computer games i'll never guess. Still, its at Soul'd Out, which means free beers! haha... i really should quit setting my self up to be dissappointed.

Oh well... one never knows.

on being a free loader...

2006-05-18T09:20:00.000+08:00

hehehe... me gots a free watch yesterday... just before guzzling some beers and gulping down smoked salmon hors d'oeuvres. And yeah, i missed a little of KLTI and yesss... i felt incredibly guilty. No excuse will suffice so i'm not going to bother - but know that it eats me up everytime i think of Paulina's very pretty face.

It was nice to hang out for a bit with my co-workers. Got to know them a little better and boy, was the freedom intoxicating. As cliched as this sounds, it's like a yoke has been lifted off me. I felt great being able to go out and laugh and meet people. Although i told everyone i needed to leave early, i didn't want to.

Still, there's no denying the emptiness of it all. In between jokes and handling pet anacondas (something to do with Puma's wild animal theme), i could see how empty things can turn out. I mean, i could imagine living purely for the excitement and believe u me.... i thanked God i have Him to live for. So yes, freedom needs purpose.

on following God...

2006-05-16T14:13:00.000+08:00

I've been mulling over which parts of my life are worth writing about. Initially I thought maybe painful dissappointments make interesting themes - writing about that is usually cathartic anyway. But i ended up confusing myself when describing this hurt to that pain to that betrayal which left me wondering if i was breastfed properly (explains the perceived parental detachment/neurotic personality... who really knows these days...)

But no matter how serious the wounds feel, they come and go. Besides, sometimes putting things on paper only magnifies their effect, and i was left feeling like... well... i can't actually say, cos that would be defeating the point wouldn't it?

So as monumental as the dissappointments seemed, i've come to realise - for the fifteenth million time running - that God is my only refuge. Surrendering to Him doesn't make anything better, it just gives me something to live for. And that's worth writing about.

There is so much talk that gets bounced back and forth about committing to God that i've come away feeling quite familiar with the concept. But to get acquainted with the honesty of it all means facing up to personal demons. So while it's great to finally have all my insecurities and questions suddenly answered, the answer itself made me angry and i wanted to hate someone. Since God was the one who pulled back the curtains, i aimed at Him. I forget that He's showing me because He wants to help me.

The moral at the end of the story is, i'm still struggling but it feels great to surrender things at His feet. Knowing it was His love that set me free, i'm trying not to run anymore. So here is my heart, and that stupid need to find and express love in a relationship.

on chasing girls... part 3

2006-05-15T16:30:00.000+08:00

*wrote this some time ago... what the heck... have a read for a laugh...

Finally! Here we are... the final installment of my phenomenal series on successfully bagging your dream girl! Maybe she's the:

unattainable sun worshipping nymph (non-christian pagan sweetheart) or

unatainnable cos you're desperately pushy (usually the case with me) or

unattainable cos you're all meatballs and no sauce (you ain't smooth, well rounded or even good looking) or,

unattainable cos baby, God's got other plans for you at the moment (crap... haven't got a smart mouth return for this one)

I'm kidding... i'm trying not to speak in absolutes, but, i would never trade God plans for my life for anything. If He isn't the reason i live, i haven't got a reason at all. Anyways, enough of trying to impress the Christine Loh/Becky Yik type-o-girls =) Thank God nobody that wholesome reads my blog... hehe.

Whatever type of girl you're after, you should know by now, i know next to nothing about chasing girls. haha... yes... as the curtains go up at the end of the show, you remove the make-up and you're naked.

Or rather, i'm naked. God's been revealing things to me, about why i do the things i do. And i hate looking at the picture - grosses myself out. At the same time, i need to look, cos i hear horror stories... of 40 year old men who still act like juvenile dickheads. I dont want to turn out like that, acting like a boy when i'm old enought to father kids. What am i saying? i'm there already haha....

But really, all i know is that my life needs some serious ironing out. All i know is surrender to God is the only way i'm gonna be successful at anything. Just that now, i end all my prayers with Ouch... right after the amens.

on being grateful...

2006-05-11T19:07:00.000+08:00

How corrupted the human nature. I've been struggling for so long and so hard, and when God comes to lift the burden, i say thank you and i enjoy the freedom. But inside, there's this subtle but mad yearning to go back to the rut i was in. I hate myself. I am everything i am not supposed to be. Pray and pray and cry and pull every conceivable constipated face but still, i can't wait to screw myself over.

Why am i like this... why Lord? I know You still care and that You love me but why am i like this? It is so frustrating... i want to be free... but i want the comfort of my sin.

on letting go...

2006-05-11T10:01:00.000+08:00

What is it with guys like me? Yesterday at KLTI, Emmy snidely referred to me as "constantly surrounded by friends" (she actually said girls, but hey, i'm not one to toot my own horn). Gross... down right puke-worthy misconception - as Christine and Des astutely pointed out. So maybe i'm a little more boisterous and genetically constructed to be attention-seeking. I can make friends easily, sure.

But that only makes things worse. Because i am always jumping the gun when it comes to girls i find attractive. I'm so idiotic, as Chris and Des will once again - more than willingly - point out. I just seem to be so inept when it comes to things like that. I want to go from good morning to holding hands to buying her hot lingerie, just before we unlock lips for brunch. The worst part is that i think i'm on the right track, the creeping uneasiness that i feel, i convince myself that's love... cos i'm all vulnerable... gosh... i'm so full of shit. The subsequent gut wrenching, soul crushing, dissappointment will see me blaming God for making life so cruel.

Do me a favor and bellow a healthy "ha ha..." please. It is infinitely good when we can laugh at ourselves - we'll leave the crying for later. At least i'm not totally ignorant about things now. In fact, God has been awesome. He's pretty much protected me from myself this time. And it is amazing how tenderly and patiently He tolerates my tantrums. I owe You big time!

on being a neurotic wreck...

2006-04-18T13:56:00.000+08:00

Autobiographies are a waste of paper unless they are so honest it hurts. Plus my motto is never tell anyone about your life unless it makes them cry or laugh. Otherwise, people rarely care because there's no entertainment value to leech off. Is that why i try to sound interesting when really, i'm a bundle of insecurities? mmm... yeah... probably.

On to my story proper.

Remember my whole speech about living your life? And embracing hurts and pains as they come your way because, really, you can't avoid them anyways? Well, I'm a hypocrate. I'm struggling with that. Massively. Must be the cosmic law of irony God's put in place to keep loudmouths in check.

Right. So i'm thrashing, in the baby pool, because like i said - i'm a bundle on insecurities.

I meet a girl, whom i think is amazingly complicated, extraordinarily intriguing, mind-numbingly cautious and yes, rather svelte i must say. She's a mixture of grace and impudence - she could be the most luxurious down pillow on your cheek or hard grit sand paper across a scrapped knee - sometimes the wolf in lamb's clothing and othertimes it's vice versa. Quite scary i'm sure you agree.

The point is, i think she's awesome. But like all men who've been overfed that devil-may-care bravado, i'm suddenly very scared. What if i fall for her, and then what? She's decides life is already tough, lets not burden ourselves with more potential for organ failure. Then i'm on the floor - devastated - and taking swigs of my mother's yomeishu - leftover from her last pregnancy - cos real alcohol hurts my head.

Shit. What then? .................... Oh right, i take my own sad advice. SHIT!!!

Anyways, i do what i always do when the bible isn't near at hand - I bring up my MSN window. I manage to talk to a good friend. She is totally inspiring.

She reminds me that when you like someone, you cannot expect anything in return. Most you can do is open your palm, stretch it out, and say with all your heart, "I've got tickets to an excellent play. I know nothing about culture or finesse, but would you like to watch it with me?"

The more you clutch on to something, the more it slips out of your hand. So she advises to let things ride, to let it fall out and take its own form. Besides, when and IF she does come around and decide those tickets are worth the trouble, at least you know she came cos she wanted to.

Just a couple of days ago, i was on top of my game. Now i feel like an absolute train wreck. But that's good, means i've got nothing to rely on but God. That's good, right?................. oh crap, i'm screwed.

on being a sweet heart...

2006-04-13T15:27:00.000+08:00

I'll keep this short and simple.

Basically, girl A has been described a hottie.
Girl B on the other hand looks a tad shoddy.

Girl A gets affection from guys.
Girl B is lucky if someone smiles.

Girl A has curves to salivate over,
while girl B might seem to most a disaster.

Guys respect girl A like a lady,
but girl B has never demanded for any.

Many months ago in cell, Jason said, "Zech is only nice to girls who are pretty."
I didn't dispute that fact however shallow it showed me. The truth is the truth.

Now, as I've grown and matured (no... seriously), my view on things has changed. Call me all things but describe me a slut, and I will kick your pansy ass. Except maybe Ern Yi, to whom I would show the true nature of my manhood - turning around and stomping off because it takes a real man to walk away from a fight.

Somehow, I hate it when guys treat ONLY the pretty girls like delicate flowers. The short stumpy ones they shove around, they treat her like one of the boys and they make cruel jokes. At a round table dinner, she's the one who gets served last, if anyone remembers she's still there that is.

This one particular plain jane I have in mind has to me the sweetest fragrance of all. She's totally comfortable in her own skin. There is no diva behavior to make up for any shortcomings. The most telling part about how beautiful she is - never a judging tone against anyone.

So if you're going to be a genteel man, at least spread your love across the board. Your act really is paper thin. Hold it up against a candle and you burn yourself right through.

ON LIVING LIFE ... YOUR LIFE!

2006-04-12T11:48:00.000+08:00

What in the hell...
Where did we get it wrong? Parents? Church? Friends? Television?
Well it can't possibly be television - every tv show tells you to take the plunge into a relationship thinking only of immediate returns.

The only thing i respect in a person is their ability to think for themselves. This doesn't always mean going against the grain. Just that, you shouldn't be afraid to evaluate things for yourself. I'm don't mean to sound angry, but i am irritated.

For instance, there's this misconception that seems to prevail in church circles exclusively - It is best to go out in a group, when you want to get to know a girl/guy/bisexual poodle better.

Lets stop and evaluate shall we? First of all, in a group, a person behaves totally differently (i know i do, meet me one on one and you'd be surprised how much more rude i am). Secondly, there are a million and one other voices screaming for attention. Forget holding the candle, you'd need a blow-torch to get any meaningful conversation going.

ALL relationships, with people that i consider close friends, have been built on one-on-one time - either on the phone or out for a drink or late in the night on a mozzie infested garden. I wager my best friend's left testicle (the other is undescended) it's the same for you, if you think hard enough*. Sure you get to know how they act in a group. But i think it's more important to know what they are like, when alone.

Then there's the whole fear of hurting someone and getting hurt yourself plus the ensuing awkwardness when you meet... makes it sound bloodier than 'Tony Jah's Ong Bak 2 - The Blood Lust Continues'.

Look, life is about geting hurt. No escaping that. The faster you try to run, the harder it'll slam into you at the next corner.

A colleague recently said, you never learn unless it hurts. Sad but thankfully true. Learning from a hurt is the fastest, most effective way to grow up. I'm not saying lets all get knives and cut ourselves, but don't be afraid to take the risk. Dip a toe pinkie - in the very least - to see if the water is as icy as it looks.

I can't promise you things will turn out great. But i'm not going to play you, or hurt you or ditch you. So please, lets evaluate shall we?

*sorry des, i love you and i love making you mad. Beers are on me.

on chasing girls... part 2

2006-04-11T12:39:00.000+08:00

Equilibrium. It's painful.

You fancy a girl. You think she's all that and more. So you ask her out, you sms her, you call her, send her an aeroplane that spells out her name in the sky... but the only response you get in return is - 'maybe next time'. Which is a real damper on your spirit and can turn you a shade bitter in no time. But it is your job to put a limb on the line - you're the guy, remember? If you're not sure you can take 'bugger off ass-wipe' for an answer, be polite and ask your mother if it's too late for an arranged marriage. Either that, or save up for a Laotian bride that will come with the mail.

It's hard, but the next time you bump into her steely eyes, smile and say hi. Then walk away and keep repeating in your head, 'all i am is a nice guy'. This is me. That's what i try telling myself. It works and sometimes it doesn't. If a conversation does present itself, equilibrium is smiling and making it as jovial as possible, because all you're thinking about is how comfortable it will make her feel. That's it. You're not getting her to buy any of your stock. But at least you get a good sleep knowing she doesn't think you're a freak.

Equilibrium. It's a state of flux.

You know you are at balance, when the pressure to smile is off, but you still flash grins at random people. You go home not feeling mopish about your failed attempt at impressing her - dissappointed maybe, but with enough self respect not to reach for some nicotine or alcohol.

But you never stay in balance for too long. Sooner or later... voices in you head start telling you things like - she wasn't worth it, you're a loser, people will laugh at you, you could use some pornographic release... and all matter of weird shit like that. This is when you have to pull the hand-break and remind yourself of the truth.

Maybe you could use a couple of good buddies - ones who know that God alone defines who you are. Maybe you could get a couple of hot girls-who-are-friends and have a shirley temple at a nice bar. I personally prefer shopping, a ridiculously expensive haircut and grooming my goatee (You: But zech, you're clean shaven. Me: Not from where you're standing). Whatever the method, you're a gentleman. No matter how uncomfortable, you don't do things you will be ashamed of sharing from the pulpit.

The truth is, the truth hurts. What'd you think? Being a man was going to be easy? God-damned haircuts cost me forty ringgit a shear. But whatever reminds you to respect yourself is worth its weight in gold. But i think that will be for part three.

;)

on things i did today...

2006-04-10T17:58:00.000+08:00

I'm tired, i want to go home, i want to sit on my bed and vegetate. I'm tired of reading about grooming products for men. I want a break... a short one. I dunno why but i'm exhausted. Feels like i hardly slept a wink last night. And i'm still angry. I thought i made up my mind to deliver all things into god's hands? WHy am i still angry? My life does suck. But i'm not sure i should hate it yet. But it sure sucks like a homo.

Every late afternoon at work, i walk downstairs to buy these fried tapioca and banana balls to eat. They're oily and crispy and a cheap diversion from the mundanity of staring at a screen all day. They bring a little color to my eyes though. I just hope ten years from now, when my arteries are properly clogged up, i'll be as forgiving.

Sleep... need sleep... need to close my eyes and dream about things that make me happy. Bikini clad babes with cleavages that put the Marianas Trench to shame... and lots of chocolate... to bathe my self in.

But all the time i'm going to be humble. Feet-washing humble. You dont get any humbler than that.

on chasing girls... part 1

2006-04-10T09:39:00.000+08:00

I'm feeling ambitious. So here's the first part - of a three episode story - about the various methods of earning pussy points. Some are the result of intense self reflection, commonly induced by alcoholic overdose or self loathing (same difference actually), while others are wry observations of what guys do.

Disclaimer: I love all men and this is merely me in bitch mode. Any reference to persons dead, alive, impotent or overweight is purely coincidental. By the way, those four adjectives describe me most accurately, so read on, only if you intend not to take offense.

I've always joked about this imaginary scale that I have. One end is labeled "the Brother" while the other extreme is "the Sleazy Bastard". All men occupy this scale, from one end of the spectrum to the other - and all points in between - at various times in their lives.

The Brother refers to guys who are adamant about portraying themselves as loving, caring, bible reading; responsible dudes who will hold open a lift until all the girls are safely inside. He then does a head count and if one little lamb is missing, he expresses enough concern to make his temple veins bulge. He's also the hapless driver, ferrying young ladies who haven't got transportation to and from their homes to church to lunch to 1-Utama to God-only-cares where else.

This is stupid. If ever you get labeled as the Brother, especially by the girl you want, that means there isn't a spark of sexual interest whatsoever. In other words, you're great for when she needs to talk because you offer a comforting voice. But after a nite out in town, she'd rather spend time tossing a salad whose main ingredient is cucumber - than invite you in for a coffee.

The Sleazy Bastard on the other hand - has more than once - wrote 'yes please' on a form that asks for him for his sex. He fancies himself a ladies man, able to sneak past even the toughest defences. A recent Men's Health sex survery put it at four dates, before the average Malaysian girl will sleep with a man. Sleazy Bastard says he can do it in half the time, while exfoliating scabs off his knob. No doubt he seems smooth with the girls, but in the end, they aren't much more than juicy pieces of steak he enjoys marinating to perfection, before he has his fill.

No one can tell the SB he's an arse - its just incomprehensable to him. I mean, he's getting down with the ladies isn't he? How much more to life can there be?! He's the kinda guy that needs to get burnt at his own game before he realises anything. Maybe he meets the one girl he truly wants but cannot have. Maybe she gets used and tossed aside by someone else while he watches. He usually ends up hating himself (now i'm only partially talking about myself, huey).

Sad to say, I've spent more time on either extreme than I have at equilibrium. Yes, yes, point your grubby fingers my way - nobody's perfect. All I'm reminded about is how much more meaningful it is, when God accepts us from where we stand. We're all works in progress, so in my next entry, I'll let you know what my definition of equilibrium means.

=)

on meeting ex-girlfriends...

2006-04-04T09:52:00.000+08:00

We dated when i was in form three. I can't remember for how long, but i know we met at one of those motivational camps my tuition centre organised because they were heavily in debt. Cutting a long story short, we discovered we lived nearby each other and started going for bike rides in the evenings. Cliched but i was seriously too young to manufacture or scheme. Anyway, she was the one who confessed out of the blue. And very much contrary to popular opinion, i didn't immediately jump at the opportunity. Instead i calmly told her - lets think about this and not get carried away.

(At least i tried to do the adult thing. You have to give me at least that.)

So with quivering bladders and overloaded heart valves, we started out - holding hands, going for movies, spending the occasional and very, very innocent night over. New love is always a ton of fun. That is was hers and my first love (i still cant say it with out a shudder no matter how sweet) was pure icing on the cake.

Then came break up time. Wholly Shit. And i do mean it was a wholesomely shitty experience. The main wedge in our relationship - my cluelessness, or what she perceived was my cluelessness. Since i have trouble remembering what i have for breakfast, i'm not going to argue with events that transpired six years ago.

But enough with the history lesson already. So there i was, in Bangsar at this Indian restaurant ten minutes early because i thought i should do the right thing by not having the lady wait on me. My illusions of being a gentleman were quickly dealt with, when she turned up half an hour late. Her excuse - i would never have expected you to be early. My response - of course not. Here's another surprise for you, a bloody nose. Haha... i'm kidding.

Anyway... we joked... we laughed... we reminesced about who was the bigger dolt when we broke up (apparently it was me again). I found out she had been going through some pretty tough times and so had i. But the great thing was, we still recognised the fifteen year-olds in each other - we could still laugh at ourselves and crack idiotic jokes. That's what makes life-long friendships i think. It doesn't matter if it will be another six years before we suddenly sms and decide on dinner, because i reckon six years from now, things will have changed but they would have also stayed the same.

on seeing the world in amazing zechicolour...

2006-03-28T18:31:00.000+08:00

Shooting is about to begin - we've got hunky male models, a prissy make-up artiste and heavy perfume in the air. The photographer is cleaning his lenses and i'm thinking about... the pizzas that are about to come. I ordered six large ones. Boss says the people who authorize claims are going to wonder why we ordered six pizzas (three thin, three thick crust) for a four person shoot.

I'm not sure myself.

I'm the last man, following orders given by number two, in a four man hierarchy.

Evidently it's important i think for myself. Wouldn't want to put a budding career on the line just yet - i'm saving the drama for when my christian principles get in the way of an offensive article about oral sex.

But it sure makes me nervous - having to think for myself. One part of my brain went, "hello? six large pizzas? isn't that a bit much?" and the other side went, "but i'm new at the company, i dont know how these things work!"

So i decided on option two, which at least gave me a nice intro. What's really on my mind is - how much of my own judgement is reliable and how much is plain junk?

I don't know.

But for the moment i'll err on the side of the jaded cynic.

testing 1... 2...

2006-03-14T14:12:00.000+08:00

Let's see how this looks...