That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord, he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.

Being Asian, or maybe even just being humans, we have this disease of comparison. Comparison between us and another person that we deem better than us, be it in terms of looks, riches/material wealth, intelligence, charisma or basically anything that we nitpick about ourselves. Comparison comes from looking at our own selves and not being satisfied, evaluating who we are and saying, why am I this way? Look at so-and-so, her beauty/his smartness/her wealth/his personal relations skills, look at me and see how drab I am. How dumb I am. How ugly I am. How useless I am at entering a club and saying whaddup I got a big block. Of cheese. (Anyone get that reference to the song? No....? Nevermind. I'm pretty used to the sound of crickets in the background whenever I attempt to crack a joke. That's why I'd rather cracks eggs. Kidding. There goes the cricket sounds again.)

Back to the point. Do we even realise how blessed we are? I'm assuming that if you're reading this, you come from at least a middle-class income family. We aren't poor. We aren't starving. We aren't struggling to live day by day. But we continue to look at the many trivial things that we aren't getting, and covet them.

An hour ago, I was sitting at my study desk and looking at all the things I have to study for my upcoming exam. And because I'm honest, I'll let you know that I was grouching and feeling frustrated over the fact that there are just some people who hardly even need to try in their studies, but still manage to crank out straight A's. Yeah, there are several in my class, and I was pretty upset because, you know, it just isn't fair. But then came the heavenly kick from above and like a cloud of angelic bricks dropping on my head, and it occurred to me - Why do I even have the gall to compare? Who am I to look at God's creations, and in the same way look at what God Himself has decided to do, and actually question it? How big is my understanding, how much importance do I actually have, that I am telling Him that His logic is screwed up and that other person doesn't deserve it yet I somehow do? And yeah, God flicked my forehead and reminded me that I've got so much to be thankful for. I've been blessed by Him in His special way.

We've all been blessed in one way or another, some with a greater measure of a certain kind of blessing, and some with less, but God always, always blesses. We're just too caught up in our ways of comparison. Lets put aside all our covetousness and take an honest look at our lives. And be grateful for the person we have been made as. Realise that every good thing we have is a blessing.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows." (James 1:17)

I’ve been searching for something ethereal. Something beautiful. Something meaningful.

I want to see the stars in their eyes and map the constellations as I stare and trace stardust on their skin. To feel the echo of their thoughts, like a bell tolling; sounds filling the empty corridors of crumbling buildings and knocking on ancient rusted doors no one has stumbled upon. Or dared to open. Or thought of as treasure. To press my ears against their throat and sense the quiet passion rushing through their blood, hidden beneath skin, roaring wonders louder than thundering seas.

I want to run my fingers through and hold on to their quiet breaths and feel my soul connect in something so tangible; wrap the wisps of my being around their spine, the backbone of who they are. I want to be one with their understanding and fall in unison with the prickles of their skin, wind brushing over goosebumps, as they run like shadows across the tailcoats of the Universe.

I am searching -
Connection. Substance. Heart.

Like an ocean with its breakers calmly crashing upon the shore, I am searching for deeper depths.

I want to drown in their ocean.

Going into the 4th month

It's always that period after you get your exam results, where every single person you meet (that are aware you've just gotten your results) asks you, "So.... What are you planning to do now?" or "Where are you going to go study?" or "Applied for any scholarships yet?" or "Going to India like your brother?!". Okay, the last question I don't get that often, but when I do, they're mostly joking. I hope.

I'm doing my A Levels right now, or whatyoucallits Sixth Form/Year 12. What I can say is that the gap between high school and Year 12 is pretty big. Not exactly in terms of knowledge, but just generally the whole package. The way to study, the way to answer the exam questions, the way everything works. I mean, high school didn't prepare me for this (high school taught me how to memorise chunks of information and then regurgitate them out on paper again). It took me a while, but I got used to it. Also, I dropped Physics around the beginning of the 3rd month and took up Geography. I don't know exactly how wise I was to do it in terms of my future course options, all I knew was that I really didn't like Physics and I've wanted to take up Geography since the beginning but I didn't because, well, kiasu Chinese gotta take up all the science subjects! I'm happy with my subjects now, the feeling of not dreading to go to certain Physics classes is really liberating.

I didn't apply for any scholarships because I couldn't find any that was related to what I was interested in doing in the future. There were plenty for engineering but since I dropped Physics... Not really any option. It is a little worrisome (Okay... a lot worrisome) thinking about my future. What do I do, where do I go, how will I get there? It's times like this that I can't imagine what I would do without God. I was born a worrywart. Not the anxiety/panic-attacks kind of thing, but I worry and think about worst-case scenarios and how I'm gonna get through them. With Jesus, I can find real freedom and a security that I am in Him and He is in me. There's a plan set out in my life, I can hold His hand and trust in Him. This doesn't mean that I'm suddenly worry-free, but it's a constant surrendering I have to remind myself of.

Tania came back for a week with a little gift for me. What a sweetie.

I got a new desk as well, my old one was in really bad condition (I inherited it from my genius brother who apparently thought it was a good idea to use a penknife to cut paper on the desk without protecting the surface first!), it's really relieving to finally be able to write on a desk without having to place something underneath my paper. There's my schedule, I don't have classes during certain times which makes transport home a real pain, but I think God has answered my prayers about that which I'll share another time perhaps. I love my Fridays! Classes from 9am till 12pm, and I'm home bound! 

April has arrived really fast. This year is passing by so quickly, in a months time I'll have my first internals, and in another few months, my first set of A Level externals. It's rather terrifying, but when I think about how He's with me every step of the way, my perspective changes and now it's terrifyingly exciting. Hoping, praying, that April will be a month of learning new things, both educational and spiritual, and growing even more (hopefully not my waistband, been eating too much these few weeks).

White hair, freckled hands

I’ve been thinking about my grandparents lately. About how they’re getting older and not a day younger. About how they’ve been living day-to-day together in that small house tucked along a small road in a small side of town, quiet and peaceful with their neighbours on the right with the ridiculous amounts of cats.

The neighbour on the left has moved away a long, long time ago and now it’s left mostly empty except for the few times it’s been rented off - A few weeks later, it’s empty again. I remember being very young and trying to jump up to see above the white wall dividing my grandparents’ house into that house, but failing. Now I am older and I walk past that wall and look into their compound I tried so hard to see so many years ago, and I am assaulted by the memories of my grandmother laughing as she rubbed my head because I knocked it on the metal box stuck on the wall while I tried to jump. I was wearing blue and I tried to be brave and not cry, but I remember the bump on my head and her laughter and her hands soothing away my pain.

I remember Chinese New Year many, many years ago when we had to wake up early in the morning to go to their house and wish them lunar blessings because my grandpa would be upset if we arrived too late. Now, he tells us to come a bit later, and not so early, please, because they are tired and need their sleep. (I am afraid that one day, they will sleep and never wake up.)

My grandpa, with his full head of wavy hair, now streaked with gray and white; his hands, dry and wrinkled, and speckled with dark brown sunspots, holds my face as he plants two wet kisses on my cheeks. He is getting much older now, and his mind runs away at times, moving faster backwards. He tells me tales of long past, of his adventures during the second world war, the hard times he and his friends went through. Of a tale involving a hill, an egg, and how they tried to boil it without water. Of how he met a beautiful lady (my grandma) and she would pick sweet potatoes from the ground and that was all they had to eat for weeks. And how when the war was over, he would go off to town with my grandma and they would attend parties, and ballroom dance throughout the night. He was the perfect gentleman (When I look through his old photo albums, he is surrounded by women, and he is smiling dashingly amidst them). He brought my grandma on a world tour. There is a picture of them together in Paris, tucked away in a dusty album. I sneezed and somehow my eyes were wet (perhaps it was the dust).

He recalls the past in clear detail, but at times, he forgets my name. He forgets my mothers name. But he still wears his marriage ring faithfully, everyday.

My grandma, with her head full of white curls, she does not talk much, not as much as my grandpa. But whenever my brother drops by, she cooks his favourite salted vegetables with fat pork. During family reunion dinners, she cooks the mixed vegetable and black bean dish, because it is my favourite. And when my sister stays over during the day because we are all not around, she cooks the chicken and potato soup which my sister loves. She does not say much, but she shows much. She is getting much older now, and her hand shakes, and she cannot do as much as she used to - but she still does as much as she can. Now she is in charge of the household necessities because my grandpa is getting forgetful and his mind runs away at times, and she has to shout a little louder for him to hear because he is getting deaf, and the curry powder and ginger biscuit business that they started together has to stop because their hands are a little shaky and memories a little blur.

She recalls the recipes in clear detail, but at times, her hands fail to follow. But she still wears her marriage ring faithfully, everyday.

For better or for worse, their vows remain on their fingers.

And now whenever my mum drops by their house, I follow. And when I leave, I wrap my arms around them and give them a kiss on the cheek. I think it surprises them, because I've never been one to show my affection that way, but somehow I'm learning that I don't quite mind.

Because I’ve been thinking about my grandparents lately.
About how they’re getting older,
and not a day younger,
and maybe one day I won’t be able to see them anymore.



(Maybe I’ll drop by their house and bring along a can of coke, because that’s what my grandma loves, and maybe I’ll stay around for a while and listen to my grandpas tales of long ago, because that’s all he can really remember nowadays.)

It turns out procrastination is not typically a function of laziness, apathy or work ethic as it is often regarded to be. It’s a neurotic self-defense behavior that develops to protect a person’s sense of self-worth.

You see, procrastinators tend to be people who have, for whatever reason, developed to perceive an unusually strong association between their performance and their value as a person. This makes failure or criticism disproportionately painful, which leads naturally to hesitancy when it comes to the prospect of doing anything that reflects their ability — which is pretty much everything.

But in real life, you can’t avoid doing things. We have to earn a living, do our taxes, have difficult conversations sometimes. Human life requires confronting uncertainty and risk, so pressure mounts. Procrastination gives a person a temporary hit of relief from this pressure of “having to do” things, which is a self-rewarding behavior. So it continues and becomes the normal way to respond to these pressures.

Particularly prone to serious procrastination problems are children who grew up with unusually high expectations placed on them. Their older siblings may have been high achievers, leaving big shoes to fill, or their parents may have had neurotic and inhuman expectations of their own, or else they exhibited exceptional talents early on, and thereafter “average” performances were met with concern and suspicion from parents and teachers.

David Cain, “Procrastination Is Not Laziness”

What do you think? I find this sort-of true. In a way, I can see where the author is coming from. That article/blogpost rather hits home though. "A procrastinator becomes disproportionately motivated by the pain of failure. So when you consider taking anything on, the promise of praise or benefit from doing something right are overshadowed by the (disproportionately greater) threat of getting something wrong. Growing up under such high expectations, people learn to associate imperfection or criticism with outright failure, and failure with personal inadequacy." Oh yeah, I be seein' myself in those few sentences right there...

Haha. Well, studying all these new things in a new environment with new incredibly smart people around me can be quite a kick in the backside. About how much I really don't know and how much God's grace & favour is needed in this ridiculously competitive world. I've got so much to learn.

On another hand, I got straight A's for my SPM results (4A+, 5A, 1A-) and I'm pretty happy with it. Although I'll be honest and say I was expecting a few more A+'s in the subjects that I got an A in, it's alright :) That's one part of my life done with. On to the next chapter!

“February, when the days of winter seem endless and no amount of wistful recollecting can bring back any air of summer.”

Chinese New Year 2013

A cute snake from IKEA in one of the houses visited

Tania's 

My adorable nephew, Declan

Barley / Apple-pear-carrot fruit juice as a break from the ridiculous amounts of carbonated drinks consumed during New Year visiting

And a cat with the stereotypical fishbone! 

A drink with friends

And a day spent with the family around town

Grandmas hands

February started of jolly enough, but up came several big bumps along the road

I seemed to keep falling and the weather cried along

The end of New Year

'An elephant never forgets'

More food

And a lesson in Hope.

Thank you, February

for being stormy enough to open my eyes 

to God's mercy in the midst of it all

and a Hope that lasts when my strength cannot.

Here's to March.

First week of February in pictures

Sunday morning breakfasts with the family

Wasabi seaweed with a real kick

On the way to school...

.... And back from school

Played around with chemicals and powders in Biology, made some fun fizzy bubbles :)

Lion dance during the Chinese New Year assembly

& friends.

Spicy noodles...

.... And more noodles

Tania's belated '12 Christmas gift to me

Here's to February.