My buddy Beatrice tells me that I am living a selfish lifestyle because I am not married. (Huh??) Her reasoning: I am too self-centered to even consider sharing my life with someone, I am too picky and hard to please, and I purposely avoid relationships that has even a hint of commitment, all in order to preserve my footloose, fancy-free lifestyle.
Gee... I really don't need enemies. But on the other hand, there may be a grain of truth somewhere in there. Yup, I love to travel and move around, I don't mind living in a box and backpacking for one half of the year, living off scraps and experiencing sights and sounds of different cultures and places. I also like to be left alone in my own space sometimes (ok, a lot of times) so that I can enjoy my own company, gather thoughts and do some reading. Not too much to ask, right?
I look at Bea. She's married with 1 kid, a fulltime mom and part-time music arranger. She's really happy juggling those three and serving in her church at the same time. Cool.
Thing is, different people have different giftings and calling. Motherhood is probably not mine, no matter how much I love kids. Yeah, I may be selfish and thinking only about myself, but er - who else are singles supposeda be worried about? Isn't that itself is a gift and blessing?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Break from CSI
Saw the season finale of CSI just now, my last encounter with Grissom and gang for a while. Can't believe I had been watching the show for 5 years! (The time has been well spent.) Tarantino wasn't too bad, I expected a whole lot more violence and gore with any outfit under his helmsmanship, but hey, I think he treated the "Grave Danger" episode with sensitivity and tact. The pacing was a slow but steady build-up to accommodate the suspense and claustrophobia to span a 2-hour plot. Think Tarantino really grew up - you don't need overt violence to state a point.
There was one part that was stolen from Silence of the Lambs (which every other director has tried to reproduce ever since) - where Warrick and Catherine furiously dig the earth where they suspect Nick had been buried. Then it cuts to the buried Nick responding to crackling sounds from his plexiglass coffin. The scene cuts back to W & C unearthing a glass coffin... only to find a dead dog in it, while Nick was still in his buried location fighting the cracks in his coffin made by pressure from the ground. Done to death, but it worked here.
Everytime I finish watching a movie or a tv program I particularly like, I ask myself, "Woman, what are you doing languishing here???? Why aren't you writing scripts and producing movies????"
Oh, I dunno...
There was one part that was stolen from Silence of the Lambs (which every other director has tried to reproduce ever since) - where Warrick and Catherine furiously dig the earth where they suspect Nick had been buried. Then it cuts to the buried Nick responding to crackling sounds from his plexiglass coffin. The scene cuts back to W & C unearthing a glass coffin... only to find a dead dog in it, while Nick was still in his buried location fighting the cracks in his coffin made by pressure from the ground. Done to death, but it worked here.
Everytime I finish watching a movie or a tv program I particularly like, I ask myself, "Woman, what are you doing languishing here???? Why aren't you writing scripts and producing movies????"
Oh, I dunno...
Thursday, July 14, 2005
One Fine Night...
My friend Lizzy was driving me to town one warm, humid night two weeks back, on the pretext of looking for a Korean restaurant, but we both knew that the real reason was to gaze and gawk at the cute guys whom are supposed to be in abundance in that area.
So we happily jumped into her SUV and started our mission, but not before stopping at Dunkin Donuts to get my choco-nut and her strawberry fix. Lizzy is petite, with long, straight flowing hair and is generally quite sweet. She's not great with directions, so I had to steer us.
We reached the destination, the Korean restaurant was there but the cute guys were nowhere to be seen. There were several preppy-looking ones, some leery middle-aged businessmen (yucks!) and one or two foreigners tottering after their happy hour at the bar.
Resigned to failure, we decided to call it a day and go home to watch CSI instead. I suggested a short cut. The route was straightforward - take a shortcut through the clubhouse, drive along a private road, emerge from the other end to a residential area and look for my car which was parked near a playground.
Child's play? Almost.
We did take the shortcut, after being subjected to a road check at the clubhouse where two armed security guards initially refused us entry. After some conversation, we persuaded them to let us pass, which they did. So we entered this long, dark, lonely winding road that wrapped itself around a golf course. There were no other cars on the road, which made it all the more eerie for us.
Then we ran into a roadblock. The entire road was barricaded. We had to either go back the way we came, or take a disused road which forked from the one we were on. Since both of us were reluctant to go back to the long, dark, lonely road from whence we came, I decided to take the forked road. Lizzy nodded in agreement and drove on. Nothing prepared us for what happened next.
Very suddenly, a thick mist covered our vehicle. The thick, swirling fog came from all directions and quickly shrouded the solitary streetlamp right above us. It swept across the shrubs on both sides of the road and started to blur our view. Very soon, our windshield was completely covered in mist and we were forced to slow down. Ten metres and a thousand questions through Lizzy's mind later, she finally asked, "hey, doesn't this remind you of a scene from the Twilight Zone?"
"Da, da, da, da..." I hummed (in reflex) the famous tune from the TV series and turned to look at her. She was quite pale. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight. Then she did something unexpected.
She stepped on the brakes and said, "Excuse me, I am going to check out this fog." Before I could finish saying "good idea", she had already wound down her car window, poked her head out at the mist and sucked in a great deal of whiff.
The next instant, she yelled and closed the car window as quickly as she could.
"Insecticide!"
The municipal was fumigating the area and sprayed a great deal of insecticide to get rid of the mosquitoes.
Oh well, at least the interior of Lizzy's car was insect-free for a while...
So we happily jumped into her SUV and started our mission, but not before stopping at Dunkin Donuts to get my choco-nut and her strawberry fix. Lizzy is petite, with long, straight flowing hair and is generally quite sweet. She's not great with directions, so I had to steer us.
We reached the destination, the Korean restaurant was there but the cute guys were nowhere to be seen. There were several preppy-looking ones, some leery middle-aged businessmen (yucks!) and one or two foreigners tottering after their happy hour at the bar.
Resigned to failure, we decided to call it a day and go home to watch CSI instead. I suggested a short cut. The route was straightforward - take a shortcut through the clubhouse, drive along a private road, emerge from the other end to a residential area and look for my car which was parked near a playground.
Child's play? Almost.
We did take the shortcut, after being subjected to a road check at the clubhouse where two armed security guards initially refused us entry. After some conversation, we persuaded them to let us pass, which they did. So we entered this long, dark, lonely winding road that wrapped itself around a golf course. There were no other cars on the road, which made it all the more eerie for us.
Then we ran into a roadblock. The entire road was barricaded. We had to either go back the way we came, or take a disused road which forked from the one we were on. Since both of us were reluctant to go back to the long, dark, lonely road from whence we came, I decided to take the forked road. Lizzy nodded in agreement and drove on. Nothing prepared us for what happened next.
Very suddenly, a thick mist covered our vehicle. The thick, swirling fog came from all directions and quickly shrouded the solitary streetlamp right above us. It swept across the shrubs on both sides of the road and started to blur our view. Very soon, our windshield was completely covered in mist and we were forced to slow down. Ten metres and a thousand questions through Lizzy's mind later, she finally asked, "hey, doesn't this remind you of a scene from the Twilight Zone?"
"Da, da, da, da..." I hummed (in reflex) the famous tune from the TV series and turned to look at her. She was quite pale. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight. Then she did something unexpected.
She stepped on the brakes and said, "Excuse me, I am going to check out this fog." Before I could finish saying "good idea", she had already wound down her car window, poked her head out at the mist and sucked in a great deal of whiff.
The next instant, she yelled and closed the car window as quickly as she could.
"Insecticide!"
The municipal was fumigating the area and sprayed a great deal of insecticide to get rid of the mosquitoes.
Oh well, at least the interior of Lizzy's car was insect-free for a while...
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Bricks and Truck
Today I feel like a tonne of bricks fell on my head - one after another. Think it's the second fleet of evil flu virus closing in for attack. So, while I was trying not to sneeze, cough or fall asleep during the business meeting in the morning, my stomach had to start churning out a symphony of sorts... actually it was because I didn't really eat breakfast, which would also explain why my brain had problems getting jumpstarted.
I was pooped when I got back home. Fell on bed and slept and slept. By the time I woke up my head was still heavy but at least I didn't feel like I'd been dragged on a rope behind a truck for 2 miles...
I was pooped when I got back home. Fell on bed and slept and slept. By the time I woke up my head was still heavy but at least I didn't feel like I'd been dragged on a rope behind a truck for 2 miles...
Monday, July 11, 2005
Safe addiction?
I could never understand how people could spend entire days or weekends on shopping. Or worse, window shopping. The mere thought of browsing for hours and hours through endless retail windows, looking for something you don't really need so that you can pay for it with the money you don't have and get into a debt you shouldn't create, is not exactly my idea of a fulfilling life.
Or maybe I am just not sophisticated enough.
My friends are used to the "tattered clothes" I wear (most of which are gifts or hand-me-downs) and most appalled at the way I purportedly treat my appearance with disdain, ie, not combing my hair (but that's because I got a great coiffeured, "maintenance-free" haircut) and not taking care of my face (can I help it if I look 15 years younger without serious renovation?? Yeah, right).
But I am not without faults. I love movies. I spend a lot of money on them, and still don't get enough. Ok, so I have yet to run into debt because of that, but what's there to stop me?... ugh... what a horrible thought! My other Archilles' heel? Books. I consciously tell myself that I should NOT be acquiring more of them and have even resorted to borrowing... but that's not the same. So, I struggle on.
Today, as I made hasty visits to several shopping malls around town, I was struck by the numb countenance of the shoppers. Most of them were going about their businesses with blank, hollow faces - telltale signs of the ravages of mediocrity. Souless, decayed, rotting.
Ugh, is this what consumerism and materialism will do to us? Numb us to a point of no return and tighten the noose with our own hands? Scary.
Perhaps then, we should have shopping rehab facilities. Why not? Since drug rehabilitation centres abound these days, and some even offer top-notch resort facilities in their drug treatment programs.
And lately it seems, students in the USA can even apply for Federal students' financial aid despite a drug conviction. Not to mention solutions for alcohol abuse for those driving under the influence.
With the way things are going, shopping rehabilitation may not too far-fetched an idea after all.
Or maybe I am just not sophisticated enough.
My friends are used to the "tattered clothes" I wear (most of which are gifts or hand-me-downs) and most appalled at the way I purportedly treat my appearance with disdain, ie, not combing my hair (but that's because I got a great coiffeured, "maintenance-free" haircut) and not taking care of my face (can I help it if I look 15 years younger without serious renovation?? Yeah, right).
But I am not without faults. I love movies. I spend a lot of money on them, and still don't get enough. Ok, so I have yet to run into debt because of that, but what's there to stop me?... ugh... what a horrible thought! My other Archilles' heel? Books. I consciously tell myself that I should NOT be acquiring more of them and have even resorted to borrowing... but that's not the same. So, I struggle on.
Today, as I made hasty visits to several shopping malls around town, I was struck by the numb countenance of the shoppers. Most of them were going about their businesses with blank, hollow faces - telltale signs of the ravages of mediocrity. Souless, decayed, rotting.
Ugh, is this what consumerism and materialism will do to us? Numb us to a point of no return and tighten the noose with our own hands? Scary.
Perhaps then, we should have shopping rehab facilities. Why not? Since drug rehabilitation centres abound these days, and some even offer top-notch resort facilities in their drug treatment programs.
And lately it seems, students in the USA can even apply for Federal students' financial aid despite a drug conviction. Not to mention solutions for alcohol abuse for those driving under the influence.
With the way things are going, shopping rehabilitation may not too far-fetched an idea after all.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
It's Never Easy
You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain… Exodus 20:7
Something somewhere in that half-sentence really made me feel uneasy. In vain… in vain… what does that mean? As my little engine upstairs started whirling out the possibilities, I told myself, “calm down woman, this ain’t the first time you are hearing this message anyways, so don’t get worked up.”
Thing is, the adult MY Chan, insubstantial as she is, is always self-assured, confident, has a devil-may-care attitude and loves fun. The other MY Chan, formless but more authentic, is the obese girl growing up in the uncertain 80s who didn’t know where she was going nor what she should do. In fact, she’s panicking now because she thinks she screwed up again, and don’t know if God’s gonna (at best) be mildly angry with her, or (at worst) strike her into a nicely charbroiled piece of roast.
In any event, she needs to talk to Him.
MY: Er, hi God… gulp… Sir.
God: Hi there, my child. I’ve missed you.
MY: Yeah, I know… I am sorry, it’s my fault. I wasn't spending enough time with You and doing the things I should. In fact, I can’t seem to be able to do anything right.
God: You have already been made right with me through My Son, Jesus.
MY: Yeah, I know, but … I still say and do things that are stupid and inappropriate about a great deal of things, I should have just shut my trap and…
God: Uh-huh…
MY: And today I had this terrible thought. My mind played back the many times I've talked about You flippantly. It has never bothered me that much before. I don't even know why I feel guilty now... but I do. (Eyes lowered to the floor…)
God: What do you want Me to do for you?
MY: I don't want You to do anything for me! (Looks up) I wanted to do something for You, and the more I try, the harder it gets! I especially hate traffic jams because it makes me lose my cool and I start to yell Your Name, as if You had anything to do with it! (Pause) Do You have a cure for this ailment?
God: (Smiles) I do. Are you ready to take it?
MY: I would like to, Sir. But I am afraid of what that would involve...
God: Nothing I haven't paid for.
MY: (Quietly) Which means...?
God then came close to MY, took her in His arms and held her to His chest for a long, long time. She felt the deep scars where the shredded flesh once were. Her hands touched a gaping hole on His side where the sword pierced. And she saw the holes on His hands and feet. Rusty nails. So close now, she heard His heart thudding in even beats and suddenly a cracking sound.
It was breaking for her humanity.
God wrote the Ten Commandments. But He also died on the cross to help me keep them.
Something somewhere in that half-sentence really made me feel uneasy. In vain… in vain… what does that mean? As my little engine upstairs started whirling out the possibilities, I told myself, “calm down woman, this ain’t the first time you are hearing this message anyways, so don’t get worked up.”
Thing is, the adult MY Chan, insubstantial as she is, is always self-assured, confident, has a devil-may-care attitude and loves fun. The other MY Chan, formless but more authentic, is the obese girl growing up in the uncertain 80s who didn’t know where she was going nor what she should do. In fact, she’s panicking now because she thinks she screwed up again, and don’t know if God’s gonna (at best) be mildly angry with her, or (at worst) strike her into a nicely charbroiled piece of roast.
In any event, she needs to talk to Him.
MY: Er, hi God… gulp… Sir.
God: Hi there, my child. I’ve missed you.
MY: Yeah, I know… I am sorry, it’s my fault. I wasn't spending enough time with You and doing the things I should. In fact, I can’t seem to be able to do anything right.
God: You have already been made right with me through My Son, Jesus.
MY: Yeah, I know, but … I still say and do things that are stupid and inappropriate about a great deal of things, I should have just shut my trap and…
God: Uh-huh…
MY: And today I had this terrible thought. My mind played back the many times I've talked about You flippantly. It has never bothered me that much before. I don't even know why I feel guilty now... but I do. (Eyes lowered to the floor…)
God: What do you want Me to do for you?
MY: I don't want You to do anything for me! (Looks up) I wanted to do something for You, and the more I try, the harder it gets! I especially hate traffic jams because it makes me lose my cool and I start to yell Your Name, as if You had anything to do with it! (Pause) Do You have a cure for this ailment?
God: (Smiles) I do. Are you ready to take it?
MY: I would like to, Sir. But I am afraid of what that would involve...
God: Nothing I haven't paid for.
MY: (Quietly) Which means...?
God then came close to MY, took her in His arms and held her to His chest for a long, long time. She felt the deep scars where the shredded flesh once were. Her hands touched a gaping hole on His side where the sword pierced. And she saw the holes on His hands and feet. Rusty nails. So close now, she heard His heart thudding in even beats and suddenly a cracking sound.
It was breaking for her humanity.
God wrote the Ten Commandments. But He also died on the cross to help me keep them.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Edge of Freedom
Today's going to be my last day of freedom... well, freedom from work anyways. As of this evening, I would have to start working on a script and the weekend will be mainly sweathouse stories since I would have to run around shopping malls in town to suss out the crowds. Ugh... never liked malls to start with.
Well, at least I got two days of holiday this week (only gripe was that I was totally knocked out by drugs), and then another two days spent recovering from the grogginess of the first two. If this is how my life is going to be, I think I would need a holiday from it too. Make that a long vacation.
Well, I'll always have Istanbul.
Well, at least I got two days of holiday this week (only gripe was that I was totally knocked out by drugs), and then another two days spent recovering from the grogginess of the first two. If this is how my life is going to be, I think I would need a holiday from it too. Make that a long vacation.
Well, I'll always have Istanbul.
Flying?
Opened my eyes today and saw the most beautiful sunrise, golden rays streaming right into my bedroom window. At first all I could make out was a big, fuzzy orange ball of light at ten o'clock, but after groping for and putting on my trusty ol' glasses, the full splendour of the magnificent moment came into clear view.
Man, I just love sunrises and sunsets. Marks the beginning and the end and wraps it up as only nature could. The best, b-e-s-t sunset I've ever experienced was when I was on a plane about to land in Lisbon, back in... maybe '98. The entire sky was a tapestry of deep, striking orange flanked by ridges of velvet, magenta, crimson, grey and some colours I can't describe. Can't recall exactly how it looked, but I sure remember how it felt. Suddenly I wasn't in the airplane anymore. In fact, I wasn't anywhere familiar, there was nothing beneath my feet nor around me. No baggages, no weights, no worries, deadlines, appointments. I was just soaring in mid-air, towards that big orange sky, sweeping past the many colours with my arms outstretched, stroking the clouds. I was happy.
So ok, that little brush with happiness probably lasted two minutes (at most) before the plane had to land and I jolted back into reality, fastened my seat-belt, pulled up my seat, got outta the plane, baggage carousel... the works. Back to the drudge and dreary.
Even now, many years later, my thoughts wander back to that moment on the plane where for an instant, time stood frozen and I had, for a second, felt what it was like to be totally free. The greatest of all feelings. The sum of all hopes. And I wonder... is heaven gonna be like that?
Man, I just love sunrises and sunsets. Marks the beginning and the end and wraps it up as only nature could. The best, b-e-s-t sunset I've ever experienced was when I was on a plane about to land in Lisbon, back in... maybe '98. The entire sky was a tapestry of deep, striking orange flanked by ridges of velvet, magenta, crimson, grey and some colours I can't describe. Can't recall exactly how it looked, but I sure remember how it felt. Suddenly I wasn't in the airplane anymore. In fact, I wasn't anywhere familiar, there was nothing beneath my feet nor around me. No baggages, no weights, no worries, deadlines, appointments. I was just soaring in mid-air, towards that big orange sky, sweeping past the many colours with my arms outstretched, stroking the clouds. I was happy.
So ok, that little brush with happiness probably lasted two minutes (at most) before the plane had to land and I jolted back into reality, fastened my seat-belt, pulled up my seat, got outta the plane, baggage carousel... the works. Back to the drudge and dreary.
Even now, many years later, my thoughts wander back to that moment on the plane where for an instant, time stood frozen and I had, for a second, felt what it was like to be totally free. The greatest of all feelings. The sum of all hopes. And I wonder... is heaven gonna be like that?
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Big Bang... not!
Most things oughta start with a bang, like say, the universe (according to some) or maybe something on a simpler scale such as a nice, cozy birthday celebration with a small element of surprise. I am afraid, however, my foray - if you can call it that - to the blogsphere started as anything but loud. As it is, I am now half-drugged from heavy medication, have wobbly knees and aching joints, but still decided, heck, let's just blog before my brain rots. Having your brain dulled by drugs is a tragic thing, I can't even start to describe the despair and helplessness involved. Where the world passes you by in parallel and time is of little consequence. Where dreams and reality mesh to form some kind of wretched limbo. And... when a voice trapped inside you screams to be let out, yet forced to remain in a faceless, blurred, wasted existence. Brrrrgh!
Anyways, after all that, I guess deep down I am just afraid to lose my freedoom, both to think and move. Which brings me to the next subject. Since our lives are governed by one kind of fear or another, it's either to cope or cop (out). Picking the path of least-resistance may sound attractive, but how long is that gonna last? To cope may mean paying a price but finally manipulating your fears to a manageable level. Great mid-term solution (in fact, it might graduate to a secure lifelong plan) but then wouldn't life be structured, calculated, devoid of spontaniety and... sterile?
Me? I choose neither. I would like to imagine myself the swashbuckler without a care in the world, travelling across God's planet and making friends along the way. Yeah sure, I have issues with death, illness, dementia, being wounded, violated and all that comes along with the territory. But I also know that with my current ongoing relationship with Jesus, I have an ally, and the freedom, to stare at these predators at their faces.
So, let them come.
"Small chance of success... certain likelihood of death... what are we waiting for?" --Gimli as reported saying in "The Lord of the Rings - Return of the King".
Anyways, after all that, I guess deep down I am just afraid to lose my freedoom, both to think and move. Which brings me to the next subject. Since our lives are governed by one kind of fear or another, it's either to cope or cop (out). Picking the path of least-resistance may sound attractive, but how long is that gonna last? To cope may mean paying a price but finally manipulating your fears to a manageable level. Great mid-term solution (in fact, it might graduate to a secure lifelong plan) but then wouldn't life be structured, calculated, devoid of spontaniety and... sterile?
Me? I choose neither. I would like to imagine myself the swashbuckler without a care in the world, travelling across God's planet and making friends along the way. Yeah sure, I have issues with death, illness, dementia, being wounded, violated and all that comes along with the territory. But I also know that with my current ongoing relationship with Jesus, I have an ally, and the freedom, to stare at these predators at their faces.
So, let them come.
"Small chance of success... certain likelihood of death... what are we waiting for?" --Gimli as reported saying in "The Lord of the Rings - Return of the King".
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