Ah, exams over, been a bit busy and sleepy. Because I sleep alot. Some observations over exam time:

It is entirely possible to get sick of McNuggets when you eat McDonald's four or five times a week, which is what I do when I'm studying in the canteen, especially when I forget to ask for barbeque sauce, am too lazy to walk back and get some, and eat them all plain. YUCK. And I had Subway maybe thrice a week, with cookies. Haven't gotten sick of cookies yet, though.

Since driving home is the first thing after I do after I finish studying for the day, I look forward to driving- it becomes a treat, almost therapeutic- and I get to listen to the nice CDs I put in my car, too. So now, I like driving (except when there are nasty drivers on the road...).

While exams are going on, I flip through the papers every day because it's one thing I can do and not too feel to guilty about (since I should be studying...). One piece of commentary mentioned how some people got fired from their jobs because of inappropriate content on their blogs, and the author wondered why people put their diaries online to be read by anybody and everybody. And I thought, how silly. Blogs are clearly not personal diaries, and why anyone would want to put what belongs in a diary or in your head for the world to see is beyond me. I have a personal journal that you are not reading, and this blog is just a way I communicate with people, telling them things that I want them to know or don't mind them (whether I know them or not) knowing.

I found out how to turn off graphical smileys on my smses! After about 2 years of owning this phone model.

And my memory can be very, very faulty.

I also succumbed to surfing the net in the run up to exams. There was news here and there, ah, the elections. I've never voted for anything country-wide, and I won't have to vote anytime soon, but it's really interesting to see the perspectives of other people. Someone remembered his father this way:

I'm 8 or 9 years old, he's looking at me in the mirror as he ties his tie, and he's putting the flag out on our front porch, and he's driving me to the fire house so I could go along with him... to vote. He's telling me... "Jimmy, Freedom is Not Free. And your vote is priceless. Men and women have paid for this right for us with time away from their families, injuries to their bodies and souls, some with their very lives. Never, ever miss your chance to vote."

and I think of apathetic self, who doesn't really care about politics, about voting, about rights and all that, whatever that is, who doesn't even know who's in charge of her constituency. But our country is here, is independent, at a price, as well. Is voting such a privilege?

Yes.

This semester I had a little more time than usual. Usually I have just enough time- you know, I finish at 11am the night before night and get a good night's sleep and have a morning paper, or finish up one or two chapters in the morning before going for my afternoon paper. Yet this time round there were a few papers I had more time than I knew what to do with, say half a day left- so I drive home, wring my hands helplessly, and just read the newspaper.

Post-exam wanderings to:

my first chinese orchestra concert

And some food and drink:

milo, hot. which I practically always have in hawker center, who cares if it's a hot and humid afternoon or a late-night supper- milo milo milo for me; some bread pudding. I've never eaten my own bread and butter pudding yet, first attempt had no butter and my second smashed to pieces so no one could eat it.  

In other news, Christmas is coming.

Yes, it is! I've been listening to Christmas albums since before exams started, so I'm looking forward to it. But what is it?

A holiday of sweets and meats, a time we show our love to family and friends through gifts. But first and foremost, the story of how God came down as a child so that He could save us. Way too often we forget how awesome it is that God became man, human, walked on this earth, and died on this earth.   

There's this part that always gets me in oft-sung-Easter-and-Christmas-song We are the Reason:

As the years went by
We learnt more about gifts
And the giving of ourselves and what that means
On a dark and cloudy day
A man hung crying in the rain
Because of love, because of love
                                                         - David Meece

So even if there's no carolling, no turkey, no presents (ah........)- there's still joy. To you, me, to the world.

After years of waiting, longing, aching
Salvation came through a king
He did not have a million soldiers warring for him
But he had power over all death and sin
Rejoice and sing
Rejoice and sing
The king is a child
This child is the king
 

So it's the last week of lessons, which means it's the week before exams. I haven't actually been very busy, surprisingly or not, but that's been the pattern this semester. There's stuff, but not that much stuff. And so alot of this are random happenings.

I watched a football game on TV for the first time in a long time, and I remember why I stopped watching them: I get way too involved and start rooting for the team I like, and then every ball is a possibility that it goes the wrong way (so I'm a pessimistic viewer) and my heart starts hammering. Bleah. At least if you watch sports live there are so many other things to distract you from concentrating on the game, which in my case, would be a good thing. At home it's you and the TV and some food, probably.

And it suddenly dawned on me that I've lost clothes. This normally never happens to me, because I am way too good at finding clothes (see my cupboard). But there are three things I bought in America: a Smithsonian T-shirt, a pair of Old Navy shorts and a belt, that I haven't seen for a while and I've tried looking for them. And it only irks me because I like all three pieces (if I lost a couple of white T-shirts I wouldn't mind- I have an entire drawer of them). Funnier is that I know I brought the latter two home and wore them in the first week I was back, but now... poof!

i had the brown belt.. it was great because it went with everything I had. Or at least I made it go with everything I had.

What else can I lose?

I finally found free parking lots nearest my school building. I know this is rather late and sad, considering this is my last year in school, but it was thanks to the library job that I found it: I started parking at the carpark nearest the library, but while there one morning I looked up to see my school building at the very end of the carpark! So if I park there it's 4 stories up to level 1 of my school building. Whee. Although it can be a little bit irritating when the trees in the carpark shed leaves copiously on my car. But convenience can be worth other inconveniences. 

And I think I've been listening to more music ever since I came back, and I'm happy to find out that there's lots of interesting music that I enjoy still coming out (of course this empties my wallet a bit but I suppose I still spend less than if I had iTunes). You would think that after many thousand years of song we'd get tired of making music, but since things change, there can be new music. How delightful.

And music here refers to both tunes and lyrics... Lyrics that wrap around you silently, and grab you when you least expect it, and wake you up, and hold you there so you have to listen, for a while at least, and remind you that there is more to life.

I met the Queen of Iowa/ She was dying on a couch in the suburbs

-Queen of Iowa, Andrew Peterson

She was standing in front of the screen, presenting something about Mars, about why we should cultivate plants on Mars, and then she suddenly burst out into bizarre, incoherent laughter- uncontrolled, like she suddenly found out the secret of hilarity not revealed to anyone else. And she didn't stop.

Her group mates, the listening students, even the professor wore slightly stunned looks. Is she mad?

She couldn't get herself back together for what seemed like a long time, then I suppose she realised that she shouldn't be laughing in the middle of a presentation, and she tried to calm down and continue with Mars, but her words fell out in dribbles and giggles. She had to turn around, hack a cough, try to start, and repeat. Her voice trembled as she finally strung together a few words, and maybe a little embarrassed, she was able to continue.

And when she came into the next class early, you could see the eyes of the few students who were there before her swing to her as she walked to her seat. That was the girl who went crazy.

I suppose it is a little embarrassing, to laugh like that- and if you've seen me laugh like that you understand that I just sound rather deranged. But it was funny. It was my fault for putting something stupid in my section of the presentation: that we wanted to cultivate plants on Mars so that the people on Mars would have a "hobby"- only it wasn't that funny, because word had originally been "companionship" (plants would be good company) and I think I was thinking of companionship when I laughed. Anyway, our project was the fluffiest anyway. 

Perhaps this kind of thing will happen when I'm in some super serious interview, or when I'm giving a presentation to the boss of my boss.

It's fun to laugh.

I've run quite a bit in the past two weeks, since I did one 5K run at the beach park, and two 10Ks on two Sundays. Running must really been all in the mind- the routes were much, much flatter that the hilly track round the reservoir, but I took just about the same time to complete the track (and we take nice breaks at the ranger station when we go to the reservoir). I say I don't like running on the road, so I just run slower when it's concrete, and having no one to entertain me while running just leaves me bored.

So I tried to think of how running was like life (all highly clichéd comparisons).

There are rocks sprinkled on the trail, and some of the small rocks you can just easily conquer by stepping on them... yet there are really big rocks that you can sprain your ankle on, and it's much better to give them a wide berth rather than risk getting hurt. And you will get hurt if you don't.

And sometimes you feel like running, feel like your body's working well and that you can do this easily, yet at other times, when the piercing sun is in your eyes and the road is hard and you haven't had enough sleep, you don't want to run, but you still do, because it's good for you.

And running is better with friends.

Get well soon!

(A long post, with many quotations.)

Ah it's already the 10th week of school, and there are essays to write, books to read.. Ah slight diversion: I still pander to my own quirks, like not writing in books. So I buy books but I don't write in them or highlight them. It's ironic because I treat my books badly, let them grow dog-ears and don't mind them looking shabby, but I can't quite bear to take out a highlighter to run over its lines. 

...Notes to make, meetings to have, presentations to give. How hard must I push to get my grades? It's always a negotiation: how far can I postpone this till, how much can I not do, how long can I do my other things, and still work a respectable amount, enough to make sure I get my grades.

Additionally, I've been working in the school library, in collection development, which so far has meant that I recommend books to buy. I'm under the supervision of my school's subject librarian, so I scour the internet for related books that the library doesn't have. So this job includes doing one of my more mindless, favourite hobbies: reading catalogues. Lots of the books look nice, but I always wonder if there are mistakes in the book, if there's poor editing, and if someone missed something, thus down the road, misinforming some poor student poring over the book in the library. But even the best, most prestigious books (like MBoC) have errors- and I sympathise, because I know how hard it is even to get a short blog entry typo-free.

More on perfection: it's not that I discourage its attainment, but I think there's room for grace. Even for myself: yesterday I forgot to put the worship leader onto the groups, so her voice was only coming out of the auxes. So one of my friends came to the sound room to tell me (how bad the sound was). And I was grateful for that. I could have blamed the sound system, because it was really acting up yesterday, but I needed to look for my mistake and correct it. 

More about friends telling friends, about being honest: after finishing Jane Austen's finished novels, I'm now on a project to see the movie versions. I borrowed Sense and Sensibility (the Emma Thompson one), and I was happy after watching it because it restored my faith in movies, after seeing so many not-so-good ones recently. The caveat is that the movie was made years ago, as was Emma (the one with Gwyneth Paltrow), which contained a scene that struck me. Funny where we learn our lessons. So, as always, we go back to the book:

While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,

"Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?-- Emma, I had not thought it possible."

Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.

"Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me."

"I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it-- with what candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be so irksome."

"Oh!" cried Emma, "I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her."

"They are blended," said he, "I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation-- but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her--and before her niece, too--and before others, many of whom (certainly some,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.--This is not pleasant to you, Emma--and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will,--I will tell you truths while I can; satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now." 

Poor Emma! I think she's a more better heroine than say the Elinor or Marianne or even Elizabeth Bennett because she's more fallible and therefore, more realistic and easy to identify with.

There's this song that I like, from downhere's latest album, about why we do things that we don't want to do.The first line got me, because it was true:

I'm learning to stand the more that I fall down,
It's the law of inversion, and it's all turned around,
And I'm staggered by the clash inside my soul,
So purposed for good but inclined for evil

It's justice and mercy the old dichotomies,
All along the frontlines of my heart in both doubt and belief
The sinner and saint, the old arch enemies,
All at war, in me

I was born depraved, but created for the divine,
With death in my bones, in my heart eternal life,
I'd love for Eden, but I'd kill for Rome,
I'm native in a land that is not my home

You are the beginning, and you are the end,
Into your great reversal, I am born again,
A beautiful redemption, you leverage even sin
In me your final victory, I know you'll win

Into light, from the shadows,
Into life, from the grave,
Into love, Into love

-All At War, Marc Martel, Jason Germain

Now indulge me for a moment while I talk about bands and singers that I like, and why.

There are bands with nice lyrics, and bands with nice music, but not often both. I whine about X's songs sounding all the same, or Y's words being unoriginal and clichéd (it's good that I do, or I would buy even more CDs).

I like downhere not only because the songs are good, but that they put in effort to better themselves. I realise that there are many factors that go into albums and songwriting and performance, and I'm sure artists always want to improve, but sometimes, it just doesn't happen. Here's a quote from the drummer, from his blog, regarding their new album that came out last month:

When we went into the studio in January to start recording in earnest I was really concerned that we didn't have the right songs yet. As an artist you always want to be improving in your craft - we felt like our last studio project Wide-Eyed and Mystified was the absolute best album we had recorded up until that point, and I wasn't sure we had material that would result in a stronger project this time around.

Well, I was wrong, and the Lord showed is faithfulness to us once again. I can confidently say that I feel like this new album is our best album yet. The musical variety, lyrical depth, and overall accessibility of the 13 songs collected on this project are second to none in our repetoire.

(Was doing on online survey about job preferences and one of the things that I hadn't really thought about before, but ended up putting quite high on my list, was that I wanted to be in a company that I was proud to work for. I want to be proud of the things that I do, that I represent.)

And about going back to the Book- the quibble I have with the new album, Ending is Beginning, is that they didn't put Bible references for their songs. They were in the first three albums, but they've disappeared. Pfft. SCC does it, and I like that.

In the end, as nice as songs are- even if I listen to them daily- there's still the need for me to read my Bible and pray every day.

I've been having some thoughts: We often want to emulate the successful, the popular and the oh-so-shiny organisations and programmes, but we tend to worry about what happens when things don't go right. What we do may be for a good, even noble cause, but there aren't any results, not results that other people would see and say wow to. Does it mean that we're doing it wrong? Maybe, but not necessarily so.

'The Bible's greatest stories are cast with unlikely characters who descended to greatness. The book of Hebrews features a roll call of faithful heroes who never saw the successful consummation of all they believed for. It's clear that God's Word rejects the idea of measuring success solely by numbers, popularity or even the achievement of a desired end. Instead, scriptural success is defined by one thing: faithfulness.
 
You may "find your calling" and discover that your calling is to fail: to give to those who only take, to speak to those who will not hear, to love those who won't know how to receive your love. You may find that your calling will daily break your heart and leave you feeling like you're holding back the darkness with a tattered book of matches. You may find that you are called to join what J.R.R. Tolkien called "the long defeat," to fight with no assurance of winning, but to fight nonetheless.'

- "Finding Your Calling In A Cup Of Coffee", Jason Gray

We were having worship and prayer night for small group and so we sang many songs. And we were tired, we had to hurry, we played wrong chords, sang in the wrong key, laughed and got distracted (oh the horror) while we were supposed to be singing to God. Music-wise, it wasn't all that fantastic. But I could still sit and smile and laugh in the midst of singing, you know, because I think God could still look at us with our trembling hands and voices and even self-consciousness, and still smile. Smile, at us, who try.

Someone recently said that there's no room for perfection in church service. Not only are all these people volunteers, but if God looks at the heart more than at the final results, then who are we to judge people by final results. I'm learning to relax and give more leeway to those around me and even to myself. Excellence is great, perfection (whatever our idea of perfection is) is nice if we attain it, but that's not the only thing, or even the first thing, that we should look at. Do you agree?

In other news, I realise that I shouldn't do essays on poems I like. I decided to write my essay on the two poems I liked the most (from the given list) but I've pored over them so much that I don't want to read them again since I'll be reminded of the copious amount of pretentious meaning out I conjured out of their lines. They were just simple, beautiful lines that I enjoyed reading. but now it may be months or years till I want to read them again.

I was nice. I even said so, in my speech, when I was running for some post. Really. And now I wonder how I could have been so delusional.

And swelling up inside of us
There's this pride in us, this arrogance
And our only line of defence is the sense that
I'm not half as bad as this friend of mine so I must be fine
We mean well, don't we
Yet I've never seen good intentions set a man free...
                                                -Benediction, Jimmy Needham

But we are all sinners saved by grace, by love undeserved. Saved by God, saved by a Man, saved by a death that should have been ours. In light of what God is and who God is, I am nothing and I bring nothing, but I have hope. But He loves me; loves, loves loves me; even when His heart is broken His arms are still open. 

It's easier to say the sharp, sarcastic things, things that wound and are remembered. Easier to say then, harder to live with. There are people whe see through me, see what I am, and still choose to be friends. I'm quite amazed. I want to be a good friend who can speak the truth with grace. Perhaps I even make them smile.

This week's big task is writing a literature essay about some poems. Poetry has to be the most mentally exhausting genre there is. There doesn't seem to be anything to distract from the words, especially in a short poem. Usually in prose there are enough words for you to relax; in songs there are the lyrics (though I think songs lyrics should be studied in relation to the music); in media, well, there's multimedia. But I'm sure there's a story in each poem, even if it's so dense that I can never find out what it is. (Note I prefer songs which have obvious meanings and not those obtuse reference which can be interpreted many ways, if at all.)

Humans are interested in the stories, aren't they? 

And to end on a sad, hopeful story (there is an ad in the beginning):

Have you ever been surprised that something you thought was normal really wasn't? A family habit isn't the way is done in the real world?

For me, it's things like sitting in the back of the car even though I'm the only passenger. That's the way I've always done it, and I never knew it was rude to do it until someone pointed it out to me when I was in JC. Sitting at the back is natural, because I'm the youngest, so I always got the sit in the back when anyone else was in the car, you can sleep in the back much more comfortably than you can in the front, and get off on either side when you get dropped off.

But since the rest of the world thinks that I should sit in front, I do. That's the new normal, and the exception now is when my parents fetch me.

I don't understand people having shouting matches because I've never been in one; I thought they were purely the stuff of movies. Then there's picking food off the floor...

Or I have a friend who thought it was normal to eat fries with ice cream (at Mac's) because that's what her brother always did.

And all the time, you're being influenced, exposed: opinions, values change. So every day might bring you to a new normal. I realised this at school this week. We had a test, and the lecturer mentioned that he was impressed with our work, but he also mentioned that lecturers were given specific instructions not to disclose any marks. He couldn't even tell us the range. Now will someone give me the rationale for such a policy?

What it boils down too is that I was more irritated than I used to be, over the issue of not disclosing CA marks. I didn't use to care so much, but it's probably the influence of being over there. Over there, they constantly update you on your CA grade, return your tests and assignments (graded!), tell you how exactly it's calculated. Here, the entire semester's a black box where your results slip emerges at the output.

It's not that I can't live with it (and I have to). But it's having to re-adjust my brain. Like having to readjust my brain to the fact that there are so many more cars on the road and I'm going to hit a jam if I attempt to drive home anywhere between 5pm and 8.30pm.

Okay, this blog sounds rather whiny.

Instead, let me give thanks to everybody who came by and supported me at food fair. There were quite a few people who came and just bought stuff even without trying. Even with free samples.

try some free samples; and the two partners in crime (we had lots of accomplices).  

Quite touched, you know, that they buy it just because I baked it, even if they didn't know me and only knew my dad. Unconditional buying?

Then there are the precarious parts of the day, when strangers walk up and take a sample, eye it suspiciously, put it in their mouths to eat. It's like my entire life is being judged on the chunk of sample that they're eating. I like the kids, because they take the samples just because they are free, and they don't judge the food like the adults do. They eat your food happily, which is what bakers want their eaters to do.

We didn't expect the news that it was not true, but the sad thing is that we never really get too surprised by it. But I was blessed enough to hear the gracious responses: "I'm glad he confessed." Or, when the other Mike said, "It just goes to show you can't trust anyone," someone else replied, "That's what Satan wants you to think."

Now, regarding the one who started all this—the person in question who caused all this pain—I want you to know that I am not the one injured in this as much as, with a few exceptions, all of you. So I don't want to come down too hard. What the majority of you agreed to as punishment is punishment enough. Now is the time to forgive this man and help him back on his feet. If all you do is pour on the guilt, you could very well drown him in it. My counsel now is to pour on the love.

The focus of my letter wasn't on punishing the offender but on getting you to take responsibility for the health of the church. So if you forgive him, I forgive him. Don't think I'm carrying around a list of personal grudges. The fact is that I'm joining in with your forgiveness, as Christ is with us, guiding us. After all, we don't want to unwittingly give Satan an opening for yet more mischief—we're not oblivious to his sly ways!

--2 Corinthians 2:5-11 (MSG)

Then there's this weekend of having to bake and balance everything. Funny to approach baking with a horror-stricken delight at how much work baking involves. For the food fair is this weekend SO COME and buy baked goods by me and Clo and Patty (thanks!).

In the elective class I'm taking at least 95% of the class are freshmen, and is it just me, or my being older and more jaded, that I find them very restless? Distracted (trading stickers during lecture) and noisy to the point of being disrespectful. But of course it's university and you're old enough to do what you like right? But I like the material so I can live with it (while gritting my teeth so I'm smiling).

Another thing that grates on me in university is the relatively free exchange of information during tests. I've had strangers ask me what I answered for this and that questions while we're all shuffling along to hand our papers up and I said, "I'm not going to tell you." How do you say that graciously? And then there are the people who sit next to each other. Not to say that it always happens or that everyone does it, and the lecturers do know it happens (or at least, students report it to the office). That's why we have invigilators.

They'd like to trust us as students, but can we be trusted? It's a competitive world, after all, isn't it? So we can graduate with good grades and get a job. And in another reminder that I'm growing up, I seem to be accumulating business cards. I thought they would be outdated, archaic novelties in an Internet era, but apparently they're still the currency of communication among professionals.

Attitude!

Attitude check
Everybody's got x-ray vision
Spot a fake, walk away
'Cause he's not worth my time and precious attention
Does it make you scared
To think you stand for something bigger?
But will I ever know 'til you say it with your life?

How they love each other
How they shine
And they follow one
We would like to know
Ourselves

Not your fancy talk, not your upright walk
They're not enough, so chalk one up for love again
Here's the same old good news
When you love, you give and you can never lose, no never
Does it make you scared
To think you matter in the bigger picture?
But will I ever know 'til you say it with your life?

Make a believer
Make a believer out of me
Just give me a reason
Give me a reason

-How They Love Each Other, downhere (Marc Martel and Jason Germain)

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

-Jesus, in John 13:34-35 (NIV)

I just checked my past semesters' schedules and I've never taken less than 19 academic units until this semester, when I'm only taking 15! Does this mean I'm going to become less efficient? But I am taking up new roles and responsibilities, so I've still got things to fill up my time. Things I do for others, and things I do for myself.

Things like going to libraries, and borrowing books. There's nothing like the thrill of reading four books in one day, is there? (Okay, one of them was really short.) Being stolen away into another world, even if it's highly unrealistic and sometimes untrue.

Meeting people after a long time can be easier than seeing people every day, because if we don't remember clearly what we said 6 months ago, we can talk about the same things all over again. And if we want to talk about the same things all over again (and again), does that mean we haven't changed in the intervening time? Don't we want to have changed? Grown? Up? A little bit?  

Also, having agreed to doing some runs with friends, I have to train, right? I don't particularly want to repeat the goAHhalfwayandhobbletotheend style of my last (and only) half-marathon. And I'm only running a 15K maximum this time. But I do like the boardwalk, and being able to see the trees reflecting off the water, and feel that I've done something healthy. HA. Of course I eat enough to make up for it.

Besides the usual raft of biology courses that I obviously have to take, my diversion for the semester Introduction to Literature, which has a textbook twice as heavy as my biggest Bible (being an anthology) with the same kind of thin paper. Obviously it makes good sense to invest in it if you're a Lit major, but I bought it anyway because I like books. Though I might only read about 1% of its 2877 pages (not even including the preface, acknowledgements and the appendices. Ever. 

Let's mention the Olympics: I like watching them because you're guaranteed to see the best in the world at their respective disciplines, whether it be something mainstream like athletics, or kayaking, or show-jumping, handball or shooting (all of which I've managed to catch while wallowing at home). Someone said it's a celebration of freaks of nature, and we say freaks in the nicest, most admiring way because we're just amazed at these people.

I borrowed a CD and found this song about friends in the "long-distance life". Eventually it wil become like this with so many people, won't it, but we can still be friends?

I am long on staying
I am slow to leave
Especially when it comes to you my friend
You have taught me slow down
And to prop up my feet
It's the fine art of being who I am
And I can't figure out
Why you want me around
I'm not the smartest person I have ever met
But somehow that doesn't matter
No it never really mattered to you at all

And at the risk of wearing out my welcome
At the risk of self-discovery
I'll take every moment
And every minute that you'll give me

And I can think of time when families all lived together
Four generations in one house
And the table was full of good food
And friends and neighbors
That's not how we like it now
Cause if you sit at home you're a loser
Couldn't you find anything better to do
Well no I couldn't think of one thing
I would rather waste my time on than sitting here with you

And I wish all the people I love the most
Could gather in one place
And know each other and love each other well
And I wish we could all go camping
And lay beneath the stars
And have nothing to do and stories to tell
We'd sit around the campfire
And we'd make each other laugh remembering when
You're the first one I'm inviting
Always know that you're my friend

Every moment and every minute that you'll give me.
Every moment and every minute that you'll give me.
Every minute

-Every Minute, Sara Groves

School's started, but I managed to spend my weeks at home languorously. I often didn't have a single thing I had to do in that day. Somehow I didn't even want to be productive. Watched alot of TV featuring imperfect heroes. But I found that I just wanted people to be consistent. If they were consistently scoundrels, it was more acceptable than if they were gloriously noble in one area but scum in the other.

So I'm slowly sliding back into life, after the extended holiday, committing myself to things and programs and needing to get my routine for the semester going. But also not committing to things I used to do- that's change. I don't have a single 8.30am class this semester so is that a good thing? It means my days end late and later.

I came back and was surprised to find that not much had changed. Did I actually want change? The shopping malls are the same; there's nothing much to explore. Hey, even the fried carrot cake man I used to buy from when I was 10 or so is still there, frying away. Whereas when I went overseas, practically everything was new and untried. So I'm both for and against change?

Sometimes, you fear the change. In the years to come, I won't be able to buy that carrot cake, or eat those cornflake cookies, or run that same reservoir trail (notice I mainly talk about food still!). Yet will there be something new that will capture my imagination and make me smile? I've found delight in finding new things, as well as finding old things still there, and the delight from both mutes the sorrow when something I liked isn't there any more. 

I searched for truth
And all I found was You
My God
I'll only ever give my all

(I don't know what I'm going to blog about, so the posts might be sporadic in the near future. If you don't want to keep on visiting an un-updated blog, you can just put in your email address in the box in the left column and you'll get an email when I've (finally) posted another entry. And I will write a couple of paragraphs, at least, so that you don't wend all the way here only to read one line.)