Faetryn Emoting

The Last Lecture

2008-05-11T00:09:00.004+10:00

Talking to my friend Sharmilla today I brought up this video. It's an inspiring "lecture" from a Carnegie Mellon professor who is dying of cancer. He is brilliant, funny, and he's got a lot to say about pursuing your dreams. Watch the whole thing, if you can - it's just over 1 hour long. I credit Shuwen for sharing it with me. Chances are you've seen it. But if you haven't, here ya go.

Get tissues. Take notes. Enjoy.

U2 3D

2008-05-10T23:05:00.005+10:00

U2 is my favorite band but I can't listen to them on CD/iPod anymore. When I really miss them I would play a track or two, or the whole of "Achtung Baby." But very rarely. Because CD's just cannot convey how good they are. They are 100x better in an arena. And yes, okay, because I'm spoiled for having seen them multiple times live. Oh, the good ol' days.

Today I made a 1hr35min trek to (omg) zone 2 to the only one theatre in the Melbourne area that still plays U2 3D. And I'm glad I did. I've forgotten how much good U2 can do for my soul, and I don't say that flippantly. Granted, it's more than their music and performance that keeps me coming back. I admire them as a group of people and organization. But - back to U2 3D:

The film is quite a technical feat - and it shows. I don't know the first thing about 3D technology but I applaud how subtly the production leverages the technology. It doesn't scream 3D, if you know what I mean. You might be disappointed because of it, and that's okay, but I think it shows incredible restraint not to exploit the technology and instead respect the whole.

The sound mixing is so incredible that I almost want to attribute the 3D feel to the sound. The recording and mixing of the audience was superb. It might just fool you to think you are there in Buenos Aires or Melbourne or wherever else they shot it. If you've been to a U2 show you know that uplifting, intoxicating atmosphere that is the audience singing in unison with Bono conducting.

So I recommend it.

I also recommend:

U2 at the end of the world by Bill Flanagan. Bill went on the Zoo Tour with the band and wrote about it and more. Highly entertaining read and a beautiful portrait of the band. I learned that U2 almost broke up! Thank the good Lord they didn't (I don't say this flippantly either).
U2 live. One of those things you gotta do before you die. Promise.

The original Emo

2008-05-02T21:43:00.006+10:00

Okay. In light of that last post. Lest you think it's all peaceful and beautiful in here - that is, in my head - please hear me: It's not.

Sometimes it is. Sometimes I'm so grateful. I've experienced wonderful, miraculous, good things in my short life. Love what I have been given. Love what I can look forward to. Love love love.

Other times, it's like: I'm thirty. F#%*(!!!!

I admit: I am grateful and I am terribly anxious about this milestone. There is barely a second between those two diverging feelings. I suppose that part of growing up is loving yourself better and that means accepting your somewhat nonsensical nature. But don't quote me on that one.

I've been reading a lot of the Psalms lately and I recognize the simultaneous lamenting and praising. It's freeing to bring all that you are to a just and faithful God. all. that. i. am. just as i am. completely. Listen to the psalmists go: God you are faithful, you are good, how long do I have to wait for you? I'm poor and need, please come quickly and destroy my adversaries.

It's almost embarrassing the way those sentiments and pleas all run together side by side urgently. I say 'almost' because I actually recognize myself in those words, although I may not have the sensitivity or courage to say them. I relate. It's altogether the most honest and most real. But it might not be the most natural (see Thurman below).

I submit to you, the psalmists are the utmost emo - if not the original.

****

Our Father, we turn to Thee in the quietness of this meditation period. It is but natural that we expose to Thee the things in us that seems most worthy and good that we may delight Thy Spirit and joy Thy Heart. The unworthy and the ugly things in us we almost instinctively seek to hide, to cover up, that we may seem pleasing in Thy Sight. But deep within us we know that this is not enough. We know that somehow we must be totally exposed to Thee, holding back nothing, seeking refuge behind no protecting screen or darkening shadows. We do not keep back the unsightly from Thee because we cannot trust Thee, dare not run the risk, but because we cannot deny the urge to offer in prayer the best that is in us.

Teach us to know that Thy love is so whole and so healing that nothing less than all of us can rise to meet Thine all-encompassing care. Teach us to share with Thee the good and the bad in us, the ugly and the beautiful, the clean and the sordid, the success and the failure - all, everything complete in every part. With penitence for fumblings, failures, ignorances and sins; with thanksgiving for directness, successes, knowledge and rightness, we lay bare all that we are to Thy love and Thy understanding, O God our Father.

- Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart, p. 31, emphases mine

On being nonsensical, or, What am I thinking on my birthday

2008-05-01T21:04:00.006+10:00

To let you in on my reflections upon turning - ehem - older, I shall have to turn you onto G.K. Chesterton because he was the first to make sense on this concept. He's neither the first to introduce it, nor is he the originator of it, but reading his book Orthodoxy made it all click. Actually, it was more like a crash! boom! for me.

In the beginning of the book he said that Love is nonsensical. "A thing must be loved BEFORE it is loveable."

Do you hear the crash! and the boom! ?

If anyone loves you, it is not your doing. If you love anyone, it is not because he/she merits your love. Love hinges on the Lover, not the Beloved.

Another wise interpretation of this is in a top-notch film called Bruce Almighty. You know it: Bruce, Jim Carrey's character, gets all the power in the world which means he gets to play God - when God, played by the remarkable Morgan Freeman, gives it to him. The only power Bruce does not have is to make anyone love him. Beautiful. Recently I heard a song, a Bonnie Raitt song, called "I can't make you love me (if you don't)." Again, beautiful (and painful), because it's true.

I think of Chesterton, and Bruce, and Bonnie Raitt's song, because I am looking at a gift of pictures and words from my friends, and at the flowers in my room, and the cards on the dining table. And I think of how much I don't deserve it all. But it's fine, because it doesn't matter whether I deserve it or not; it is irrelevant. Your love (and my love, too) is nonsensical.

And so, friends, hope you know it's a compliment when I say: you are all crazy. (And so am I).

ps: Go read Chesterton's Orthodoxy. He might be hard-going at first, but stick with it. There are gems upon gems.

On repeat

2008-04-21T18:13:00.006+10:00

Last Sunday afternoon was a warm day, so balcony doors were opened to let the April air breeze through. With that one subjects oneself to other people's music seeping in. My neighbors are quite musical, I must say. But one stands out. Somehow this one doesn't irk me. This one is special. This one plays Whitney Houston on repeat on a regular basis. I verified this with my housemate. Same song.

"I won't hold it back again, this passion inside... I can't run from myself, there's nowhere to hiiiiiiidde...."

Ah, she does have a voice. It wouldn't be my choice of Whitney song, but it'll do.

I have so much respect for my neighbour. Sometimes we think we are cooler than not when we blast our music, because blasting means imposing it on everyone. But somehow - this neighbour is not going for cool, I don't think. This one is just emoting. I mean, it's Whitney, right? With that song from the Bodyguard? Come on.

I find myself singing it the rest of the day. Although my range is pathetic. But I have Whitney singing along with me to cover me up, and my falsetto's alright.

"Don't make me....." - and the keychange in the middle of the phrase - "cloooose one more door! I don't wanna hurt anymooore...."

And then the lyrics just get better. And by better I mean honest, honestly cheesy.

"Stay in my arms if you dare
Or must I imagine you there
Don't walk away from me...
I have nothing, nothing, nothing
If I don't have you."

To hell with coolness.

Note to Self - re: magic wands

2008-04-18T19:50:00.002+10:00

(But I post it in case you find it relevant)

“I am not a magic wand.”

God tells me this whenever I ask him to fix my problem. (Oh yes, I am one of those people who thinks she can hear God). I know, I say to God. Of course I know you’re not technically a magic wand. But you are God. You can fix problems like that. Right?

This, as they say, is where the rubber meets the road - when life of faith clashes with, well, life. I want God to be understandable, sensible, predictable, reliable, and so on - and does whatever I ask him to, when I ask him to. So when He doesn’t, is he really as powerful or loving as He says He is?

This is when I ask myself, Who is God and what do I believe about Him? Funny enough, I ask this all the time. And when I do, I approach it with some trepidation because doubt tends to give me pause, as if it’s something to fear. But it isn’t. A life of faith does not exclude doubt. Sometimes I wish it does because I think my life would be so much easier if I don’t ever doubt. Although, I suppose, then it won’t be much of a faith-filled life, then, will it? Like that guy in the Bible who says, “yes, Lord, I believe. Help me with my unbelief.” This paradox keeps me awake at night often.

But for now, let’s return to the magic wand.

So when He says He is not a magic wand, I say Hmm, why not? It sounds like such a stupid, childish question but I can’t help it – it’s there. It also nags. I can't pretend I don’t have silly questions. I mean, pretend? Pretend in front of God? If God is God then He already knows all about my stupidity and childishness and the extent of it – and He is not turned off by it. How do I know? Because he smiles (ah yes, sometimes I hear and see him) and shakes his head like, Oh dear, little dear. Then He leans over towards me with His hands clasped in anticipation for what else I have to say. And usually I have a lot to say:

Is it because you can’t fix my problem, Lord? You heal the sick, you cast out demons, you silence storms, you raise people from the dead – sometimes just by speaking!!! You perform miracles! My problem is hardly a huge problem; it’s nothing to you. Part the Red Sea or make the day stop; create the universe - now that's huge. You healed that woman and raised your friend from the dead. I’m just asking you to make this problem go away just like you made all those people’s problems go away. Instantly! Healed. Delivered. Resurrected.

Of course you can fix it. Fix it please. And fix me too while you’re at it.

And then it occurs to me. Four things.

#1. He thinks it far better to fix me than to fix my problem. He can fix these difficult situations for me but that’s not what I really need. “I came for you,” He reminds me, “not to solve all your problems, or to protect you from troubles, or to keep you blissful. If that’s all I do then I am not who I say I am. I can just blink and make those things happen. But I pursued you, I died for you, rose again from the dead for you, and I sent my Spirit to dwell within you. I did all that so that we can be together.” Yeah, He tends to talk a lot about this because despite my knowledge of it, I don’t act like I know it. His patience amazes me.

#2. Fixing me takes time. Time. Not a wave of the wand. And no one else can offer me all of that, without fail, other than God. In other words, because I need Him to fix me, I need Him to be GOD, not a magic wand. I'm impatient and I hate to suffer the process of growing, so of course I wish fixing me can be done with His blinking. But it cannot, because, …

#3. He wants us to be together. That’s the point. He fixes me by being with me. Even more correctly: His being with me fixes me. It’s frustrating, if you ask me, because honestly sometimes I don’t want to be with Him. But I do choose to be with Him, every time I arrive at that crossroad, because there is no one else like Him. What a conundrum. Besides, He won't leave me. Ever. He is relentless. Ack.

#4. God is GOD. So even though I want Him to do things for me or to be things for me (like a magic wand), I have to trust that He knows (me) better. It’s not easy for a controlling, calculating, future-oriented me to leave it to someone else, even if it is the God who knows me and loves me. It is frustrating, but I need to relinquish my fears. Daily.

Alright, Lord. You are not a magic wand, you do not just make my problems disappear, because you care more about my character and my growth so I can be more like you. Okay. Got it.

Then can you tell me what to do about the issues I’m having? Like, should I quit my job and go back to school? Just, tell me what to do!

“I am not a magic 8 ball.”

And... here we go again.

Recent going-ons

2008-04-11T10:47:00.002+10:00

It's been a while since I wrote an update. I realize that most of you readers actually know me and wonder: what is she up to? So, here's a few:

SCHOOL has been tough. In addition to the immense workload this semester, I just received an invoice for a large fee which I did not expect. I need to contest it, but it is difficult to prove that I do not owe that. In short school is a source of stress. I wake up - no, I jerk myself awake in the morning with desperate thoughts: what am I going to do about it all? So if you are the praying kind, plead for peace and wisdom on my behalf. Much appreciate it.

FRIENDS have been wonderful. I have study buddies now with whom I spend a lot of time fretting, scheming, brainstorming. We look like the beginning of a joke: "An Indian, an American, and an Indonesian walk into the library... " Simply put, without them, I might've quit school. AG and AH - thanks for laughing at (and with) me. More stories on them later.

NEIGHBOURS are kinda crazy. My bedroom window faces another apartment building which has small balconies, like ours does. One night a woman sat in her balcony yelling at her neighbour. About what, I'm not sure. Profanities for sure. She went on for an hour or so. Another night, same apartment, a man was sitting there addressing someone either inside the apartment or on the phone, loudly. Again, for almost an hour he was at this. I'm not sure whether they are intoxicated or high on something or just really angry. I often think I should just tell them to keep it quiet. But then I'm scared they might do something. Sometimes I wish I was a buff man, stern-looking, like I mean business, so I can go up to people and say, "Excuse me. Is everything alright here. Would you mind going inside. You're disturbing the neighbours." Stern-like. Business. Then they would probably cuss me out but wouldn't dare do anything else. Much like a little dog. Yap yap yap because they're actually scared. Anyway, but I'm not a buff man. So next time, I've been told, I should call the police.

ENTERTAINMENT has been non-existent. I haven't been out exploring much at all. Tried Mexican food here (Taco Bill - yes, forreals) and was of course underwhelmed but what was I expecting? Still, sometimes the company makes it all worthwhile - thanks HS. But on the home-entertainment front:

I read The Little Prince and fell in love. Fell and couldn't get back up. It's so beautiful and rich.
Reading On Writing (Stephen King) - he's incisive, funny, and entertaining. I've never read his books before and don't know if I ever will (the genre scares me), but he is a darn good writer.
Reading On Beauty (Zadie Smith). Smith has a great ear for the art of dialogue. Ha, I just realized both books are On something.
Listening to Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever ago. CL2 sent me an e-mail w/ a link to download this off his website, with a note: You will love this music. CL2 is hardly ever wrong in these cases. Thanks!
Watched the first season of House. Now I think every little health symptom means something big... And I'll die unless I go to Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. It's a funny, witty show with a superbly written main character.

Whew. That's it for now.

Recently sighted

2008-04-07T19:06:00.005+10:00

Mosaic

Mosaic part deux

Birdies

Drinking "Pure Blondes" At Torquay

Mystery

2008-04-04T22:30:00.001+11:00

Someone in the car exclaimed, "Oooh, a rainbow!" So then we all tried to see through our respective car windows to admire this phenomenon.

Then someone else said, "There's two!"

There were. Two rainbow arches adorned the cloudy skies of Melbourne that evening. One was fainter than the other; the one that was outside.

My friend said, "I wonder if the one is the reflection of the other. Is that possible?"

Then another said, "Noo. I think that's just another set."

Then, being the academic-types that we are, a short discourse of "how could that be?" ensued.

"I prefer not knowing," I interrupted, frankly a little surprised at my admission.

"Why, so you can make up your own explanation?" laughed my friend.

No. I guess once in a while I enjoy a little mystery.

My friend reminds me that we have a compulsion to explain things. The Greeks said the rainbow is a path made by the messenger from earth to heaven. The Chinese said it's a slit in the sky. The Bible said it was a sign of God's promise. It was the same compulsion that led scientists to the discovery that rainbows are a product of the sun shining through droplets of water in the earth's atmosphere. (Wikipedia also includes an explanation for the two arches!)

But that moment, I really really reveled in not knowing, and not even wanting to know, about how rainbows are made.

I didn't care. They were just there. And they were pretty.

And I'm labeling this post in "spiritual life" because - heck - everything is spiritual: rainbows, meaning-making, prettiness, friendship, and above all, mystery.

Doncha think?

On praying

2008-03-31T10:54:00.004+11:00

Sometimes I can't find the words, so I grunt or squeal or cry or... steal someone else's words.

"Grant that I may pass through the coming year with a faithful heart.
There will be much to test me and to make weak my strength before the year ends. In my confusion I shall often say the word that is not true and do the thing of which I am ashamed. There will be errors of the mind and great inaccuracies of judgment which shall render me the victim of my own stupidities. In seeking the light, I shall again and again find myself walking in darkness. I shall mistake my light for Thy light and I shall shrink from the responsibility of the choice I make. All of these things, and more, will be true for me because I have not yet learned how to keep my hand in Thy hand.
Nevertheless, grant that I may pass through the coming year with a faithful heart. May I never give the approval of my heart to error, to falseness, to weakness, to vainglory, to sin. Though my days be marked with failures, stumblings, failings, let my spirit be free so that Thou mayest take it and redeem my moments in all the ways my needs reveal. Give me the quiet assurance of Thy Love and Thy Presence."

- Howard Thurman, "Meditations of the Heart", p. 96, emphases mine

Before the Third Day

2008-03-22T17:14:00.001+11:00

On the Third Day, a few women found his tomb empty. They thought his body had been stolen. When in fact he was alive again. He has rebuilt the Temple, like he said he would.

On the Third Day, Love wins. My Lord has crushed death once and for all, and for all of us.

But before that Third Day came the first and the second. There was anguish in the garden. Betrayal by a kiss and denials before the rooster crows. Trials. Flogging. Abandonment. Separation. Mocking. Blood. Burial. Mourning. That's what it takes.

I believe the victory that the Third Day brought. But I know there's that first and second day; and somehow I am with my Lord and He is with me in those days also.

And so I eagerly wait. Oh, I wait.

A Birthday-related Thought

2008-03-19T13:22:00.004+11:00

I turn 30 next month, ladies and gentlemen. THIRTY. Halfway to sixty.

Yes, I do have some typical thoughts of a still-single, student-again 30-year old woman. In case you can't imagine what they would be, they're along the lines of: "What do I have to show for my life?" "Yay! Closer to wrinkles and bad joints!" "Sigh. I still don't have a house a dog a husband a car!" "Should I start dressing my age?" Get the idea? But take courage, friends, I'm fighting the urge to dwell in the getting old part of this deal. This won't be that kind of post.

I'm writing to ask you, dear reader, for your ideas.

I want to celebrate. I don't want to throw just some party - been there, done that. Anyone can have drinks or go out to dinner any other happy time of the year. I survived another year, dammit. I should be thankful. I'm healthy, I have a roof over my head, I have friends here and there, I have a laptop, I don't worry about my next meal, I have so much!!

And so it struck me: I need to serve. Like, get my hands dirty so to speak. But I also want to be with friends, have them meet other friends, laugh drink eat, etc. just like what celebrations should entail. So, why not get my friends together and serve our community together?

Any ideas, thoughts? What activity should we do?

E-mail me or leave a comment.

This should be fun...

The Suffering Christ

2008-03-15T16:39:00.005+11:00

"Prayer and action, therefore, can never be seen as contradictory or mutually exclusive. Prayer without action grows into powerless pietism, and action without prayer degenerates into questionable manipulation. If prayer leads us into a deeper unity with the compassionate Christ, it will always give rise to concrete acts of service. And if concrete acts of service do indeed lead us to a deeper solidarity with the poor, the hungry, the sick, the dying, and the oppressed, they will always give rise to prayer. In prayer we meet Christ, and in him all human suffering. In service we meet people, and in them the suffering Christ."
- Henri Nouwen

Reading this quote (that's hanging in my room) makes me think of my friend Michelle who is on this exciting journey and trips to Ensenada. So fun and inspiring.

And it makes me think: I need more of that in my life.

More on this to come...

Prophets

2008-03-12T10:41:00.005+11:00

Listening to Radiohead reminds me why I believe in prophets.

Clarifying the term would be useful before I go any further. By a prophet I mean someone who is divinely inspired to speak, whether about the future or current, about the nature of human beings or of the super natural. But the divine inspiration is the key, I think. There's people who do everything through their own lenses, by their own effort and strength, using their own wisdom. And then there's those who are keenly aware that they cannot rely on themselves to create, survive, heal, or make sense of the world. Instead, they wait til the divine strikes - and they speak to the people.

At least that's what I believe. And listening to Radiohead makes me think these things, like the divine, because Radiohead sounds so otherworldly beautiful and fascinating.

To clarify some more: no, I don't know if Radiohead consults the heavenly realms for musical decisions. But I'd like to submit that perhaps the heavenly realms touch me through Radiohead anyway (among other things). And I'm so fine with that. If this is a small glimpse or foreshadow of contact with God, I say: Excellent.

Security Blanket

2008-03-01T15:42:00.004+11:00

I don't remember the first time I did this; a good guess might be in high school. But it's a habit of mine: Whenever I had just visited home - thus having had my laundry done there - I keep a piece of clothing, something small, unworn. From time to time I pick it up to smell it. It smells like home.

I know, I know, suppose I can just ask Mom what laundry detergent we use at home and then buy it. But that would kill it, wouldn't it?

Yes, folks, I'm back in Melbourne after the long summer break (of traveling to Jakarta to Los Angeles to Jakarta). It was a great time of being with people. I have a wonderful family, friends, and boyfriend. Thanks to all who made the time to laugh with me, to say hi, to give kind words and thoughts, and to share a meal or two. Special thanks to my kind hosts, V and DJ, S and S. What kind of friends let me crash at their place for weeks at a time? The very coolest kind. Highlights and stories from the trip to follow.

The adventure continues.

No word for it

2008-02-22T14:18:00.004+11:00

I used to think English is pretty deprived as a language, because it only has one word for Love. The words to say "I love you, my sister" and "I love you, my spouse" should be different. Never mind though, at least we got one.

Because, today, I heard that the Quiche Mayan people don't have the word for Love. Listen for yourself (February 17th mp3 - Listen to the first 12 minutes).

Some languages/cultures have more words to describe something because they have more of that thing. For example, it's well-known that the Inuits have so many more words for "snow" - because they have so much snow, all the time. As a bi-lingual person, I know words in one language that I cannot properly translate into the other because, well, that culture just doesn't have that feeling, concept, or behavior.

So hearing about the Quiche Mayan language makes me kinda sad. I hope it doesn't mean that they don't know or recognize love.

I've been watching

2008-02-08T13:59:00.000+11:00

quite a few things that are worthwhile... and some not so much.

Juno - excellent. Witty, heart-warming, hilarious! while not compromising the heavier issues at hand with teenage pregnancy. Unorthodox, surely, and the way the plot unfolds may seem far-fetched to some, but the spirit and tone of the film is right on. Yes, the situation is bizarre and difficult, but lovely things can come out of it. So, maybe it's not too far-fetched anyway.

No Country for Old Men - I don't know how I feel about this film. I'm not sure I enjoyed it thoroughly; but I can't say I didn't. Ack. It's definitely riveting. Violent. The filmmakers know how to sustain your interest. It showcases a great piece of acting by all the actors. Javier Bardem's character may just be the scariest villain in recent cinema.

Once - It tells an unbelievably simple story, but the superb telling elevates it to a wonderful ride. I love the subtle, realistic manner in which it depicts two people falling in love. Set in contemporary Ireland, the male is a talented but struggling busker and the female a musically talented emigre from the Czech Republic. It's been dubbed "a modern day musical" because 50% of the film is the one or two characters playing music. But don't think The Sound of Music or Fiddler on the Roof. The songs are organically embedded in the story. It feels natural because it is about two musicians after all. Glen Hansard (the main character in the movie) wrote and performed all his own bits. He is the lead singer of the Frames, so if that appeals to you: watch it please. Then get the soundtrack.

Firefly/Serenity. This saga was first brought to my attention a while back by Jeffrey Overstreet who sang its praises. The premise intrigued me. A motley crew of people in a spaceship running legal and illegal shipments across the universe. A western in space? Yes! The show had a short life on the air but fans' prompted writer/producer to create a film (Serenity) so that the story can have a more satisfying conclusion. It has witty dialogue, smart and subversive story lines, recognizable and likable characters. It is so much fun. Fantasies (sci-fi or not) like this one offer an alternative look at the world.

Moment of Truth. I came across this show when I was staying with friends who were intrigued by it.

The set is similar to those used on “The Weakest Link” and “Deal or No Deal,” but the object of this game is to prod seemingly nice people to admit bad behavior. As family members and friends look on, the contestant is asked a series of embarrassing personal questions by the host. Truthful answers, as determined by a polygraph, are rewarded by cash, from $10,000 for the first, relatively banal queries to $500,000 for the marriage-busting kind.
(NYTimes.com story)

I found it so brutally wrong and offensive. It's just a TV show? It is. I still could not stomach it. It fascinates me in that "What does this say about our society" kind of way; but I'm not watching it or recommending it.

Not late after all...

2008-02-07T18:28:00.000+11:00

So my previous post was about a late new year's resolution... if you go by the Gregorian calendar!!
Otherwise, it's VERY timely.

Happy Chinese new year, everyone!

In addition to singing more, I've also resolved to tell more stories more liberally. This means more blogging, more journaling, more e-mailing, more talking, more picture taking. You're gonna get sick of it! But I'm resolved! Yeah!

Other resolutions:

Join the gym. Serious. Once the semester starts.
Seek, believe, and tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Lord.
Complete my sentences.
Get a tattoo or sky dive - or both. Or something else that's cool and drastic. I'm not getting younger, now, am I?
Use Bullet Points less frequently in my blog postings.
Eat less meat.
Persevere.

A late new year's resolution

2008-02-06T10:50:00.000+11:00

I want to sing more.

I used to sing quite a lot as a kid. I sang everywhere I went: I didn't restrict myself to the shower. My mom claimed I could sing before I could utter full sentences (thanks, Sound of Music). Around kindergarten Mom enrolled me in a vocal school built by a renowned opera singer in Indonesia. I was too young to remember what I learned - other than scales - ah yes, them - to warm up your voice. La la la la la la la. Li li li li li li li. Mo mo mo mo mo mo mo. You get the picture. My friends and I sang through elementary and junior high in choir competitions, vocal groups, at church. Music weaved in and out in the midst of even the most mundane activity. Waiting around for the car or for basketball practice to commence. A song would pop in someone's head then out his or her vocal chordst; other voices would join in effortlessly, likely in harmony. Music surrounded my childhood. Songs were at school, at home, at play practice, at church, at recess, at the terrace of friend's house, at night, in the morning, in the car. Songs were in my head. I didn't care if there was an audience or not. I definitely wished life was a musical.

Then I grew up.

As a grown-up I've learned social etiquette. Like, don't sing while shopping at the grocery store, or waiting for a friend at a cafe. It's weird. Then I find myself not singing while in the shower or washing the dishes. Pretty soon the songs don't make their way out. Not even when no one is watching.

But a little girl singing while standing in line for the cashier wouldn't be weird. A little girl singing while in the tram wouldn't be weird either. It would be cute.

So I know this much: The little girl in me still enjoys humming a little ditty, sometimes just a phrase or two. The grown-up me more often than not would rather concentrate on this task or that, dwell over mistakes, think about my retirement home, etc. But this year I'm going to indulge her with more music. More this year than last. 'Cos after all, she knows how to keep it in tune. The task can wait. I want to, and indeed, need to, channel and embrace the little girl me more because she is not embarrassing or childish. She's real and fun. Whimsical. Less inhibited. I just forget her sometimes.

Let's get this straight though. I'm not entering American Idol - ever. Ever. Don't worry! And I won't be weird! At least I'll try not to be.

So next time you happen to hear me sing, feel free to join in. Or hum something of your own, and I'll join you. Wouldn't that be fun?

One Weekend in LA

2008-01-18T12:06:00.000+11:00

Things one learns from a weekend in Los Angeles with three lifetime girlfriends:

A baby owl is an owlet. A female donkey is a jenny.
A healthy poo is a long, S-shaped one. And poo-ing twice or three times a day is good.
Don't assume you know what color your girlfriend likes in a sweater. She might like (and look lovely in) the pink one!
It's hard to find a cafe on Melrose that will allow you to use their bathroom.
When using the bathroom at Ralphs, you don't need a "token" like the butcher says; you just need a quarter of a dollar! It saves you from queue-ing at the checkout for a "token" and delaying your relief.
Singing together (sometimes in harmony) in the car to '80s and '90s hits is good for the soul. Very good.
There's Pinkberry everywhere now!

Hello, New Year!

2008-01-05T18:06:00.000+11:00

In 2007 I set foot in 20 airports. Just for kicks, I will list them for you: Mexico City Merida Cancun Havana Panama City Lima London Dubai Singapore Jakarta Denpasar Sydney Melbourne Adelaide Darwin Perth Taipei Los Angeles Burbank Columbus. Whew!

In 2007 I set out on new adventures, and boy, they were crazy. And that was kind of the point. I left the comfort of LA and friends. I saw and tasted new places. I started a relationship. I embarked on a Master's program. I moved to a new country. All of these. Scared. The. Crap. Out. Of. Me.

In 2007 I heard God say to me: "What are you so afraid of? I'm with you. I'm committed to you. Trust me." So, despite myself, I did.

In 2007 I reconnected with old friends. I found that I am not allergic to cats.

So all in all, it was a really fine year.

Twelve months = One year = 365 days = 525,600 minutes,... and so on. Thanks to a few people who felt the need to carve out time, we are now 5 days into the year 2008 AD (at least in this part of the world). I think of how arbitrary this is. Why do we need these markers of time?

Because the past needs to be in the past. We want to say: that is over and done with. Now, onto the next. Now, let's begin something new, something different, something better. I suppose we call this Hope. And I want to be full of it.

In 2008 I will be a hopeful person. I will meditate on and practice Hopefulness. Hard as it will be, I realize I can't be otherwise, for I am created to long for what is not yet seen. And I know that what is not yet seen is beautiful. Because God is with me and He can be trusted. He can make beauty out of ashes.

To 2008!!!

My favorite things

2007-12-08T16:34:00.000+11:00

It's not my favorite season (that would be Autumn/Fall) nor is it my favorite holiday (that would be Thanksgiving or Easter). Unfortunately Christmas is too closely associated with stress and shopping malls and I'm too tired to wrangle it back to where it really belongs.

But one of my favorite movies of all time is about Christmas. As a matter of fact, today I will put it on!

And now, a few other of my favorite things culminate in this little podcast about the film.

Thank you Mr. Charles Schulz, Mr. Vince Guaraldi.

On Volvos

2007-11-23T12:01:00.000+11:00

Donald Miller (author of one of my fave books, and I've posted about him) spoke at Mars Hill a couple of weeks ago and I've been reflecting on what he said. He related the elements of a great story with the elements of a great life, i.e. think about your favorite stories, narratives, movies, etc. and pick out lessons of a life worth living. It's an unusual twist, if you think about it. Typically it's the other way around: to write a great story, you need to be a keen observer of life. Art imitates life. But on second thought, it totally works. This reminds me of CS Lewis' insistence that the stories we create (specifically myths) - across the ages and cross cultures - have a consistency to them; they point to certain and universal longings. There's also Joseph Campbell's book about the universal hero. And speaking of the universe, it sometimes aligns: Mosaic's sermon series have been about an original life, which I suspect take cues from this notion of a great story (titles of the sermons: the call, the crisis, the conflict, etc.). But, I digress. Okay, back to Don.

Don was convincing and helpful. If you're interested take a listen here. It's fun and worthwhile. He lists out a bunch of story-telling techniques and citing examples like Rocky, Joseph in the book of Genesis, Friday Night Lights, etc.

He said something interesting about the protagonist. The protagonist should be flawed, she maybe an addict or have low self-esteem, no one will like or relate to the perfect person. But there is one thing the protagonist cannot be. She cannot think of herself as better than other people. If she does, she is the villain.

He also said that writers often start with writing/knowing/plotting out the climactic scene of the story. They don't start at the beginning, they start near the end. Once they know what that scene is about, then they figure out the rest. What struggles and turning points will take him/her there? Who will help or deter him/her? Is there another way for these characters to meet? What difficult choices will they make? What we want dictates how we live our life.

And oh, the Volvo refers to an objective. Don uses it to illustrate a goal: the character wants to buy a Volvo. And at the end of the movie he gets it. "Now, are you weeping at the end of this movie?"

It needs to be more than a Volvo. A great story needs to be really risky, like, it needs to scare you. "The best stories are the ones where you might lose your life."

Warmth on Saturday

2007-10-27T18:33:00.000+10:00

What a sunny, warm and breezy Saturday afternoon needs:

A great soundtrack which could include: Rachael Yamagata’s 1963 (“I find it to be magical”), Amos Lee’s Sweet Pea (I keep “comin’ home” to this one), Over the Rhine’s Trouble (Damn, “make me a double”), Ben Harper’s Steal My Kisses (“like heaven to me, I must confess,” esp. the live version), Semisonic’s Secret Smile (“remove this whirling sadness”).
An avocado, bacon, tomato sandwich for lunch.
A tank-top, a pair of shorts, and a SPF 30 sunscreen. Hello, Australian sun.
An icy cold jar of infused water, in this particular case it’s got orange and kiwi.
A good and good-lookin’ company. Oh well, I suppose the cat will do.

Yep, ya got me. I'm procrastinating again.

The things I've been doing which I shouldn't because I have 2 papers due on Monday:

2007-10-25T20:12:00.000+10:00

I listen to a little bit of music.... I subscribe to KCRW's Today's Top Tune podcast and got this yesterday Robert Plant and Alison Krauss - Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On) First thought: so bizarre! Second: so cool! Who woulda thunk? And then came across this piece of news today. T Bone Burnett produced the album. Genius. This reminds me of Radiohead making a score for a dance company. Or Ira Glass (of This American Life) collaborating with Chris Ware (comic artist). Shouldn't there be more unexpected crisscrossing off stuff out there! Which two unlikely artists you think would churn out great art together?

Okay, maybe a bit more music...

NPR All Songs Considered podcast - Stars in concert, Spoon in concert. Can one say enough good about NPR? No, probably not. And I'm becoming a big fan of Stars.
Stephen Marley. A friend promised me goosebumps because he sounds like the true heir of Bob's. And truly.

I stumble onto cafes and restaurants. Today, found Little Cupcakes, a quaint, teeny, cute, place that sells coffee and yep, cupcakes! on Degraves. Angelenos, their cupcakes remind me of Sprinkles, smaller, but tasty frosting. I had the dark chocolate and SG had the cheesecake. The decor and presentation were really lovely, too. They just opened a month ago. Must go back.

I log on to Facebook. Darn that thing. More old friends have been showing up to it so it's been fun to check out. I've come to appreciate how FB, unlike the other social networks, have a higher default privacy setting. Not only is that admirable, it sets it apart from the rest. Clean design and good UI help make it more enjoyable. But people, please, stop with the add-ons.