chronicles of young

Watched this Mexican film yesterday and the different layers enfolded made for much musing (which is why usually after films like these I will be quiet for awhile to let thoughts form and settle; after which I can scoop them up again or let something stir them up). Today at the hospital with 奶奶 (except that I call her nai3 nai3, and not nai3 nai as in proper Mandarin), I caught her at a rare alert moment where she was in the present. It was bittersweet to be able to tell 奶奶 that it was dark because it rained, and be understood; yet also parroting the phrases spoken in Hainanese back at her because I really couldn't figure what she was saying.  Was reminded of Zikril in the film again- how the language represented a kind of power and alternate worldview, reflecting a beauty of human connection that the dominant lingua franca does not. I wonder how the Hainanese worldview is like- from my rudimentary vocabulary of phrases and watching nostalgic videos of Hainan, it appears to ...

Sitting at the window seat of National Gallery cafe now with the natural sunlight filling the whole space. Such moments like that echo of shalom.  Are they incompatible with the broken realities of the world? This question I have struggled with in my freshman year as I come face to face with human suffering and broken families.  I've thus far managed to come to a healthy (or so I think) tension where I know that shalom moments come by 'the slow, steady engagement with and practice of God's will' (Bruggemann, in Evangelism and Discipleship). Yet, have things become too convenient? For convenience is indeed the goal of the dominant culture.  There is no conclusion to this, for the corollary of the above statement is that because Christians called to the alternative of shalom, we are constantly reclaiming zones of alternative culture. In the same breath I thank God for the blessings I have at work, of very cherished friendships and exciting ...

In more ways than one, God spoke to me through my GP. I had put off going to the doc's but well I really need to be well by Monday. Somehow I have a slight mistrust of doctors, after a bad encounter at the hospital with my Granny's doctor and knowing that GP clinics are basically a business. Perhaps also from researching about healthcare for my thesis and stories from MSW friends. I also hate waiting in clinics or bureaucratic offices. To me the feeling of waiting to be processed is quite disempowering. Yet, unpleasant as the waits are they are good because they remind me of how social service users have these waits in higher frequency, and much longer duration. And then I had a seat which was great because I had brought my Bible to read. Quiet space is intentionally created and there in the clinic, truths were again spoken over me, echoing down the ages as I read the words (2 Corintians 9:6-15). The most divine part was the conversation with Dr Gloria, who challenged m...

Maybe I write this post as a mini self rebuke, maybe an act of subtle self-glorification. "A discerning man keeps wisdom in view, but a fools' eyes wander to the ends of the earth." Proverbs 17:24 Feels like straight in the heart rebuke when I read it this morning.  Dear Mum and Dad, family and friends: I am both sorry and not sorry. Which in effect is not sorry at all. And I am, in my better self, sorry for that. Sorry that I don't really care about the great mess in my room nor the fact that I probably lost my identity card. It really doesn't matter at the end of it, like I said to the utter dismay of my friends in response to the possibility of missing our flight back to Singapore.  After awhile, it kinda sucks being seen as crazy/foolish/needing to be restrained. Of course, there is truth in it. (No, I shall not be tempted into emotional pride and feel like it's me against the world) Yet I hope that some of this other-worldliness is a v...

This symbol has been featuring in my thoughts for the past 1 month plus ever since I read that article . ( ) used to be B, the second best friend I had and possibly the oldest friend I am still pretty much in regular contact with. That sass, that humour, the way boys like her. In no small way, as I was reflecting after Disgraced , in no small way has how I present myself been shaped by her. Even till now. ( ) is still sometimes "one of those chicks that look like they have it all". What came back to me again and again was this paragraph: "It's kind of beyond me how someone can have their life so sorted. Maybe I should start comparing them allegorically to filing cabinets. Each file section is a subdivision of life. Academics. Family ties. Extra-curricular activities. Social stature. Looks. Boyfriends/ girlfriends. Socioeconomic state. Mental health. Physical form. With a person like ( ) , not only is every section perfectly organised, but also each...

Mostly unedited comments from the play Disgraced by Ayad Akhtar, typed out during the post-play discussion: A turning in on yourself. Of realising that you are not who you are and yet you are who you are trying to hide yourself from. A part of yourself that you are secretly proud of if you dare to throw away the social norms and morality holding you back. The caricatures are so relevant because they connect to people in a not always explainable way. In some way we can see ourselves in these characters but yet there is a simultaneous rejection. The whole awakening to white privilege, to orientalism, to racial/religious profiling also seems to turn in on itself because it endorses a kind of stereotype also. So I guess at the same time the play is brilliant because it shoves the stereotypes up your face and declares SO WHAT F**K YOU (and I realise, maybe this curse word is a played out stereotype in itself). Because at the same time it is easy to draw causality rather than just obs...

An irrational number | I wonder when that memory on the bus became significant. Like the never-ending decimal representations, peering into that blip of time that has accrued layers of meanings over time I emerge with a thread with an end that only God knows.  There are still new digits being computed for pi. Pi is not mysterious but is known, yet that depth I do not yet (?) have. It was so hard to write those lines. Sometimes I would put my face super close to the mirror, and it becomes a stranger to me.

Liminal space: an in-between space of both becoming and transition. It struck me as I was thinking about how we conceived the almost-crazy idea of doing a mini social enterprise (what is thesis. what is year 4. what is Exco lol), that food has been central in many things. Looking at photos of food from the past 2 weeks (mostly this week), I begin to see that food has created a liminal space. With HX: Engaging with social issues as a Christian A clearer shape for hitherto subliminal thoughts, yet not fully formed (would they?) The act of food instagraphy as a metaphor for this generation To think! Alone! The becoming of a community. Usually begins with food. A simultaneous reflection of who we are and want to be  (Do I sound like I am super deep yet HAHA) (But I am. Deep deep in God's love)