Condolences to victims and families of QZ8501.

“My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death assail me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.” –Psalm 55:4-5

My heart goes out to the victims and their family members of the AirAsia flight QZ8501. So saddened by this tragedy. Yet as the Psalmist says in the last line, “I trust in You” (v. 23). I will trust in God Almighty. Even though I don’t understand, even though there’s so much inexplicable confusion, I trust in You. 

English - Standard and Malaysian

You know, sometimes I'm so confused.

I love English, and I love writing. And I could come up with an essay that fulfills the standards of Queen's English. And I love the language to bits. Being able to feel the fine polish of the words, to sense the different meanings of each word and feel them being used in an accurate and pristine manner, so that the each letter strikes deep into the soul of a person.

But sometimes, I lapse back into Malaysian English. It's weird, really. It's English, but somehow it's not. It's a type of slang, and yet it isn't. Bits and pieces of other languages chopped up and blended together to form a strange yet familiar new language. I don't really know how to describe it. I guess it's got to be felt and lived through. It's something instinctual, almost chaotic.

I don't really know what to do with this dichotomy though. On the one hand, I need to be precise, expressing myself in the formal Standard English, and on the other hand, I need to be able to feel proud of the unique flavour of Malaysian English.

So with this tension, my thoughts get confused, my tongue gets muddled, and sometimes I feel the words I want to say get choked back in my throat, or restrained in my pen.

But despite the trouble articulating myself, the unstable vacillation between Standard English and its Malaysian counterpart, I love both Englishes; I will embrace both the shine and polish of the Standard and the wild chaos of the Malaysian one.

Things I've Learnt from Packing Donated Goods

For 2 short hours, my family and I recently helped out the volunteers at the Bandar Utama Community Centre who were packing and loading donated goods for the flood victims in Kelantan. Donating goods to others wasn't tremendously new to us, but it was a first for us to actually go on the ground and help pack up and organize donated goods.

Upon arriving, one of the first sights that greeted us was the vast amounts of donated goods that have been dropped off: rice, mineral water, clothes, blankets. There were just tonnes and tonnes of goods filling and spilling all over the assembly hall of the community centre. I was really encouraged and touched by the sight. Well done, Malaysia!

There were a few observations and thoughts that I've jotted down, and a few lessons that I've learnt through this humbling experience: -

1. Truly, truly encouraged to be seeing volunteers coming together to help sort out the donations. A large number of donated goods is of course encouraging, but the staggering amount is so overwhelming. We were working for about 2-3 hours, my arms were aching, I've broken into a very hot sweat, and we've moved about 1% of the goods. I am not even exaggerating. But I was very thankful for the volunteers, who have taken the time not just to drop off goods, but to also mill through the gritty work of sorting out the donations. It was a lot of hard, manual work, but no one complained for a second. Everyone came from different backgrounds, different ages. We even had a 15 year old girl helping us out. Some injected a little bit of zest into the task by trying to play "American football" with the plastic bags, and some worked quietly and steadfastly. But whatever the differences in our personalities, we came together and worked to get those goods sorted out.

2. Not all donated goods are good. A personal lesson I've learnt is such: It's great that you want to donate all the items you no longer need. But, be discriminatory about what you're donating. Used undergarments are a known no-no, but they still turned up in donated goods, and there were weird things like iPad covers being donated (which may be good for causes other than disaster relief perhaps...?). Have a careful look through your donations. Do you truly feel that these can be donated? Or are you merely trying to dispose of old items in a way that would salve your conscience?

3. Take the effort to have a bit of care. Yes, life is busy, and you're just wanting to drop off your donations before rushing off to cook dinner for your family. But before you donate, just take some pains to make sure that your donations would be such that it would be useful for the victims, and easy for the volunteers to sort through. While it was great that everyone donated so so much, if I was being strictly honest, there were times when I felt the piles and piles of donated clothes resembled a landfill: there were ripped plastic bags, clothes spilling out of boxes onto the floor. I'm actually guilty of just "dumping" donations without properly sealing the plastic bags. But now I learnt that it would save a lot of time and energy (and heartache) if we all would carefully seal the boxes, plastic bags, and garbage bags that we put our donations into. It would be ideal to label them too.

4. Research. Again, everyone has so much going on in their lives that we can't really expect people to be complete experts in knowing what to donate, or how to help out etc. But it is important to just take some pains in finding out the right centres to drop off goods to, what kind of donated goods would be valuable, etc. For instance, we were actually told that the Bandar Utama Community Centre wasn't really the designated place for people to drop off clothes, but it's still being done anyway. And also, it is actually better to give canned biscuits rather than rice because the victims wouldn't have stove or the equipment to boil rice. I found that most of this information could be found on the posters, especially the ones on FB, but for some reason, the message isn't getting across. So yeap, read through the posters carefully, see what people really need.


People are generous in that they want to help out and donate. And that's great! But it's also time that we also start getting on the ground and help out practically, in physical labour - rather than just financially and materially. Also, if you do want to donate, take some care and effort in doing so. These goods are being donated to actual people who need them.

This Quiet Room

I walk around these quiet halls, and I remember. It used to be filled up with your laughter, brimming over with your jokes, your happiness, sometimes your anger, your tears.

These quiet corridors, where your feet used to be. All the things that you used to do for us, all the times we had. There were squabbles, there was hurt, there was sometimes loneliness.

But deep down, we know.

I walk into your room. And a little twinge - commingled with feelings of pain, longing, nostalgia - shot through me. What a funny thing it is, that your life no longer inundate this room - that it lays bare and silent, in direct contrast with your laughter and your spirit.

It hurts a little, it stings a little. Regrets I feel. Sadness I feel. And it's strange how emptiness could be such a tangible feeling.

But I'm thankful for you, I'm thankful that you've walked into our lives, thankful for your big heart and big smile. And we're all praying for you, supporting you, wishing you the very best. We will visit you one day.

And despite the sadness, I take joy in the knowledge that we will meet each other for an eternal celebration in His presence.




-----

For my dear Sok, whom we all miss. 

Wise Words

For us, there is only the trying.

-T.S. Eliot

Telescopic Philanthropy

I encountered this phrase when I was reading Dickens' Bleak House, and I found it a perfect, perfect summation of how people tend to approach charity or volunteer work.

Before I start off, I need to make clear that I am not at all against charity or volunteer work; what I am protesting against is the superficial view we have when undertaking such work.

Yes, it's great that we feel the need and desire to want to share a part of our resources, time, effort with those who may have materially less than we do. But what is our view of them? Do we see them in a one-dimensional way, as "helpless victims", nameless faces lost in the crowd of destitution, poverty, and hardship?

Which is exactly what Mrs Jellyby in Bleak House was doing. Yes, it was great that she felt the desire to help these countries in need. But she was extending help in a cold, distant, almost mechanical manner; she was merely pumping in money for a cause which she knows of, but does not know.

What is also disconcerting about this "telescopic philanthropy" phenomenon is that we are always so quick to put a world of distance between ourselves and the people in need. "Oh dear", we say, "it must be terrible for people living in such and such a place". Yet at the same time, have we turned a blind eye to the hardship and struggles of the people and communities near us? We are prone to hide behind the excuse of geographical distance, to use it as a justification as to why we aren't doing more. The extent of our help is limited, we say. We are living at the other end of the world, there is only so much we can do, we say. Yes, we can't take on the problems of the whole world, but we can (and must) start trying to be a bit more aware of all the problems and the issues that different countries are facing. And also, we have to realize that the problems aren't always happening "elsewhere": there are people all around us that are so much in need of our help as well, and we can only spot them if we open up our eyes wide enough.

If we really want to help, yes finances and funds are vital. But we can't just hope to solve everything by money, which is the apparent quick-fix solution - but very rarely the long-term solution - of problems. What is of utmost importance, then, is how these funds are used. It is vital that these finances are used such that the fundamental problems are being addressed, and progressive changes are being made - no matter how tiny they may seem at the beginning.

We need to first and foremost understand the people who are at the receiving end of the help. We need to understand their lives, their real problems, their joys, their potential at turning their lives around. The people who are in need are strong, capable people who have made it thus far in life, and we should never strip their dignity by simplistically and rather condescendingly thinking that we could offer monetary assistance and be done with it. Real people have complex, complicated problems.

I will admit that it will be hard. Having visited a few indigenous villages back in my home country Malaysia, I do understand the difficulty of starting and sustaining a conversation with the villagers, some of the people whom I have helped out in the past. There was a lot of things holding me back, a lot of emotions that I couldn't quite pinpoint then, but which I recognize now: emotions bred from the fear of making a fool of myself, awkwardness of talking to people who have a totally different lifestyle than mine, guilt of having more materially, and perhaps the worst of it all, laziness of making the effort to step into the life of another person.

Trying to resolve these problems with just money is like staunching a severely bleeding wound with a flimsy band-aid: it helps, but it won't help forever. We need to get down to it and actually take the time and trouble to understand the people who are in need. We need to get our hands dirty, actually go down to ground level, to come out of our comfort zones, talking to them about their lives, their way of living, their very own selves. When we have gained insight, then and only then are we able to tackle these issues, only then are we able to draw up and lobby for effective policies. Effective policies can't be successfully formulated and implemented by condescendingly imposing what we think would work; no, the problem has to be painstakingly researched, analyzed, debated, discussed, refined. Importantly as well, we need to stop offering aid to people as though they are merely passive receivers of it. Instead, we need to empower communities and individuals to use their abilities, potential, talents the best way they can. We need to give them tools that would enable them to build better lives for themselves.

Someone recently shared this article on Facebook, and I thought it was a splendid take on the topic of responsible volunteering. It's time to stop viewing needy people and communities as distant, helpless subjects that are completely cut off from our spheres of existence, and engaging with them, hearing their voices and their side of things.

Psalm 40:2

Sometimes I’m just so caught up in the business of everyday, I’m swept up in the floods of the multitudes, drowning in the lists of to-dos and want-to-dos, swelling up with places names dates things; so much so that I risk losing myself in the midst of it all.

But Your hand reaches into the everything that I am holding, pulling me up and breaking me away. 

You are my anchor steadying me, preserving me against the currents threatening to inundate me.

And You remind me. Who I am.

In You. 

Refugees in Malaysia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdV3sj76vnA


This is so sad... obviously this issue is way more complex than what Al Jazeera presents, and there are many considerations to take into account when dealing with refugees (e.g. resources, growing population, security issues, etc.). But instead of immediately rejecting them and exploiting them, we need to help them, support them, take the trouble to understand them.

Ought He not?

There is the view that because there is no justice in this world, there must be no merciful, righteous God. Because there is the far-reaching prevalence of suffering, of pain, of utter brokenness and fallenness of the world, if there was a kind, merciful God, then why does he not intervene?  Ought He not intervene?

It is hard to refute such arguments, because truth be told, we – even Christians - don’t know why God acts the way He does. We just cannot explain why He chooses to intervene at times, and why He chooses to be silent at others. But this came into my mind. People have an idea of justice, that if there was a God, He should have acted in such and such a manner. And the fact that He didn’t. Well, that must mean, He doesn’t exist.

But I would like to ask, where does a person’s idea of justice come from?

If we hold the view that a person’s idea of justice is subjective to an individual – then is it reliable then? Would it not just be a matter of opinion then? Does justice even exist? If that is the case, then is there even a need to strive for it, a need to bring peace, love, hope to this world?

So, the very fact that humans constantly strive to bring light and kindness into the world shows that there must be some kind of universal idea of justice. Something within ourselves that tell us that this isn’t how the world is intended to be. And if there is a universal idea of justice, a sort of moral standard that we are vaguely aware of within our consciousness – where did it come from? It is impossible that we, as humans - with our different cultures, lifestyles, personalities – have a universal idea of what is right or wrong.

Unless Someone places that moral standard in our consciences.

The world is messy, full of heartache and hurts and such terribly deep-seated cracks. And we don’t have any answers for it – at least not in this lifetime. The thing is, can we ever FULLY comprehend why?

The only One who has all the answers is God. And I have to humble myself to the fact that I can’t understand it all. It’s mortally impossible. What I shall do then, is not to enter this labyrinthine maze of searching for answers, but to look to Him who already holds all the answers.

And with this knowledge, by His grace, I’ll focus my energies instead to doing all I can to bring His light, glory, and love to the people here on earth.

“How great is God – beyond our understanding!
The number of his years is past finding out!” Job 36:26

The Simple Joys in Essay-Formatting.

Joy is finding the most magnificent shortcut to insert a hanging indent in one's essay on Microsoft Word.

Hit CTRL + T, my friends, and voila, all your Bibliography woes will vanish.


3 more essays to do, time to press on!

Problems with Malaysian Education - The Multiplicity of Languages

So, Dr Mahathir has recently uploaded an interesting blog post about the Malaysian education system, found here


I agree with Dr M that one of the sad effects of having different types of national schools, vernacular schools, and English schools is that the student community (and hence the Malaysian society) are being polarised - often racially so. In general, students are being segregated according to the language they are more familiar with, and as such, they only stick to their own little bubble of friends (and arguably, "class").


Coming from a Chinese-speaking primary school, and an English-speaking secondary school and college, I do see how it can affect racial harmony. Growing up with people who speak the same lingo as me (quite literally), it is difficult to climb out of the sociolinguistic bubble that we set up for ourselves.  I am proud to say that I do have friends of other cultures, ethnicities, and religions. But my state of comfort in my bubble has sometimes caused me to become lazy and ignorant to the innumerable other cultures and lifestyles that I have not actively tried to discover and understand. It's sad to think that I've never really engaged with people who may have a radically different mindset and lifestyle from mine.


And while I do learn Bahasa Malaysia at school, and converse with my Malay teachers, with the vendors, shopowners, and various other people in Malay, my Malay is often too formalised (from writing essays), a little stilted and unnatural, and often without slang.


I don't necessarily see Dr M's connection between rich-poor education and the language of communication of the school, So I'll just observe what he says for now, and make my judgment on that. Meanwhile, I'll keep silent.


Also, would just like to point out, the Malay language is our national language, our official language, and ONE OF the languages of the indigenous people. Let us not forget that the Aslian languages are the languages of the indigenous people as well.


Reading Dr M's post, I am reminded of the debilitating effects of having so many different types of school in a nation - especially when they are segregated based on languages. How hard it would be for us to communicate if the languages that we speak in are all different! Nonetheless, things being what they are, we can't try to turn back time and simplistically eradicate all vernacular schools and English-speaking schools. Obviously though, all parties would have to sacrifice a little bit here and there, to reach some sort of compromise.


While the message of the post is thought-provoking, I also have to wonder, are these simply the fault of the medium in which the students are educated? Or are there more deep-seated flaws of the syllabus and the methods of teaching, etc.?

PTPTN Loans

Malaysian Insider - PTPTN Loans

Besides the fact that he is basically racialising the education loan system, also note how the needs of the Orang Asli are not being addressed in this article. The statistics in the article are only concerned with Malay students, Chinese students, Indian students. Meanwhile, according to this source, only 97 out of 147, 412 Orang Asli are enrolled in higher education institutes. What about their rights?

The Internet - Source of Truth or Source of Lies?

http://www.thestar.com.my/News/Nation/2014/11/24/Ahmad-Zahid-Internet/

While I understand his concern over how the Internet is potentially abused to disseminate false information, I find the solution of 'stamping out' contentious elements rather backwards.

There are numerous things that are meant to benefit us. The internet, is one of them. It's available for us to make plans, to gain more knowledge, to see the world, to connect with each other, to be entertained. The solution therefore is not to enforce a sort of "clampdown" on Internet behaviour, but rather to educate Internet users. We should be taught how to discern reliable sources, how to ignore or call attention to false or dubious information, how to maintain responsible and courteous Internet etiquette, how to have a healthy and mature disagreement online, etc. Are these not infinitely better solutions?

Writing helps writing. One of the important things about writing.

Found that it's much easier and faster for me to finish writing an essay nowadays. I'm inclined to think that it's because I'm (somewhat) regularly updating my blog.

I used to believe that "oh you need to be inspired to create art" or "you need to have the right environment to let all your creativity flow out". And that is true. You need to have the right environment to be inspired to let your creative and artistic energies burst through your mind. But the truth is that, more often than not, you need to create that environment.

Ideas come to us all the time. Whether you're resting, reading a book, taking a shower, picking out the best papaya in the grocery store.

But what's the use of having an idea if you're not going to crystallize and refine it? That's when the next step is crucial. You gotta find a time to sit yourself down, close yourself off from the rest of the world (at least for a while), and just be able to think about it in full, to write down the little strands and thoughts that flow out from that one big idea.

Whether it be an essay, a concept, a story, a song, a business plan, or just any sort of innovative idea, you have to have time to fully give it form.

And that's what I learnt about writing. I used to put off writing essays / stories / etc, saying that I'd write it down when I have spare time, when I'm less frazzled, when I feel like I'm in a 'creative mood'. But now I realised that while ideas pop in on us all the time, 'creative moods' don't necessarily do the same. I have to set aside the time to create the environment to put my inspirations into words.

I didn't use to see writing as a form of discipline; discipline just seems so lifeless, dry, and boring. But it wasn't! Discipline was and is never meant to confine our thoughts and our creativity. Instead, the purpose of discipline is to giving us a sort of framework, create a sort of practice and environment so that we are able to channel our creative juices the best way we could.

 So I worked at being disciplined in my writing. Not in the sense that I was being rigid with my ideas, but in the sense that I was aiming to become consistent and conscientious about my writing. I try to put up a blog post at least once a week. Even if it's something inane and silly, I'd post it up, so that I won't fall out of the practice of writing.

And it definitely helps! I wouldn't say I'm a super duper, fantastic writer, but I would say that the process of churning ideas out, expressing them, and refining them has definitely become a lot smoother than before.

Do you have a talent for something? You gotta work at it, lovingly and passionately hone it. You can't expect to reach your potential with a snap of your fingers. As the adage goes 'practice makes perfect'. And if you're a writer - or if you're someone who's got to churn out essays and reports all the time - keep writing. Because writing helps writing.

Hurting.

This is a sort of accompaniment, a sequel, to the post "Crutch".

I want you to know. That I don't mind hurting for you.

:)



Not in a creepy, masochistic way, but. I'm just saying. I know that this is what it means to love someone and to care for them. Relationships without the hurt and the pain are the ones that don't go anywhere. They stagnate.

And so I'll fall. I'll hurt. I may cry a little at times. But I'll come back up, stronger and more pliable knowing that I've tasted the pain before. Because I know that when you put your heart to loving someone, you'll inevitably fall - one time or the other. The only thing is whether you sit there unmoving, or whether you get up and go on.

Awkward situation with EPF?

Malaysia EPF in Dilemma

I wouldn't say I am an expert in economics and finance. But it seems to me - the run-of-the-mill, ordinary layperson - that despite the awkward situation, it is a good move on Bursa Malaysia's part. On the other side though, it's a bit unsettling to see how far-reaching institutionalized shareholding is, especially when EPF handles the pension funds of Malaysians. The pension savings of 14 million Malaysians would be affected by its investment dealings, could you imagine that?

Fog

In the midst of the fog and the muddled chaos,

Your light cuts through,

It pulls me out,

And I know,

You reign.

Crutch.

It hurts to be someone's crutch. A lot.

And the thing is, you can't say that it does. Because you love the person and you want to be their support. And you can't be the support if you say that you're hurting. A support isn't good if it's fragile and cracking at the edges as well.

And so you put on a strong appearance, try to give as much of yourself as you can. But the thing is, you're limping too.

And I wonder, who will be my crutch?

Marxism - and my poor head.

Reading up on Marxism, and after many many gruelling hours, I have some idea of the different theories. The overall picture is still blurry, and I don't entirely grasp the nuances, but I believe I have some gist of it.

One thing that I found extremely contradictory is that even though Marx and Engels' model of the economic base and the superstructure is deterministic, they still proclaim that the proletarians and the working class would one day be able to instigate a rebellion against the bourgeoisie. Marx and Engels noted that the economic conditions of the proletarians are oppressive. As ideology (part of the superstructure) is determined by economic conditions - the infrastructure, or also known as the base -  would this not mean that the proletarians' ideology is skewed to one of blind submission and deference to the ruling classes? How does one even work up the idea to start a rebellion?

Seeking to modify this model, Althusser proposed that the infrastructure - superstructure relationship is less deterministic and more interactive. He postulates, then, that there is a mutual process by which ideology and economic conditions both feed into each other. However, he goes on to talk about Ideological State Apparatuses, which the State uses to basically keep people in line.

I don't know how to put forward my argument in a less crude manner, but I will proceed anyway. What I find baffling then, to my still inelastic undergraduate mind, is if Ideological State Apparatuses does selectively constrain the various practices (or, in my opinion, dissension) of the people, how then can there be existence of revolutions and rebellion in the past? It could be that the ISAs failed in restraining oppositional voices, that certain practices slip past their "defences". Yet,  how did that happen? If, in the first place, any form of spontaneous ideology on the proletarians' part has been systematically suppressed,  how do these rebels come up with the idea of rebellion?



Forgive my lack of referencing. Am supposed to be working on an essay on Chaucer right now, and somehow came here to write up this blog post.

Michelle Kwan

Just a quick gushing session on how wonderfully exuberant Michelle Kwan is on the ice. I've never really seen videos of her performance before, all I know is "Oh yeah Michelle Kwan, she's a world-class figure skater".

But yesterday for some strange reason I decided to look up Yuna Kim on YouTube and that led me to old videos of Michelle's performance and may I say that it is the most powerful, joyful, beautiful performance that I've seen in figure skating. Granted, I haven't seen very many, but there is just such passion and joy radiating from her as she glides on the ice. See her leaps and bounds, look at her as she spins and floats away, witness how her very soul seems to transcend her physical body and swell up in a crescendo reaching beyond the confines of the skating rink.

It seems as though that there on the ice, she finds such happiness and release. It's breathtaking to watch.

Religion and How Christ has Shattered it

I am inclined to believe that religious dogma and rules are not designed to shrink men's brains and dampen their ability to think, rather it was designed exactly because men's brains are so limited and tiny that it cannot even comprehend the grandeur of God's own mind. Because we ourselves being mortal, cannot even fathom His work, we try to digest His greatness and His plans by simplifying it. We make lists of what we should or shouldn't do. And while it's important that we try to understand God through His spirit and His word, it's crazy to think that we have Him all figured out, that we comprehend fully His ways. We never should reduce God to something lesser than who He is.

In today's sermon at Christchurch Durham, Pastor Tony Jones' message really reminded me of Jesus' dynamic and radical teachings. The passage of Mark 2:21-22 has always been a challenge for me, but now it's been given fresh resonance and meaning. I'm reminded of how Jesus' new teachings and plans, how God's kingdom, authority, and power cannot be accommodated by the limited and constricted thing we call religion. Just like the old cloth and old wineskins, our "religious checklist" will explode and be completely shattered by the truth in Jesus, His infinite grace, His glorious sovereignty, His holy righteousness, His incomprehensible love.

When people ask me what religion do I believe in, I say Christianity, but in my heart I feel twinge of restlessness, wanting to tell others that Christianity is simply more than just a religion. How do you explain something that is fundamental to who you are? It's like trying to tell others your entire identity, your entire life, your entire reason to live, your hopes - all in one word. How can you even begin to conflate what Christianity means to me into one simplistic sentence?

What is Christianity then? It's about believing that by Christ's sacrifice on the cross, by His blood shed in our sake for our salvation. But we can't call ourselves Christians, or Christ-followers just by acknowledging that truth, but by entering into a personal, intimate relationship with Him. It's calling Him King, Father, Friend, Lover, Leader, Brother, Lord, Saviour. It's not compartmentalizing God to one aspect of our lives called "religion", but bringing Him in and letting Him reign over every part of our lives. Our work, our human relationships, our rest time, our church. We can never ever comprehend Him fully, but that's fine. Because what God wants is for us to want to learn, to seek Him, and have our love and knowledge of Him stretched and expanded.

What God wants is not a clever mind, but a teachable heart.

Without contraries is no progression

For there is no joy, no love, no hope, without pain.

"Without contraries is no progression." -William Blake.

Ironies of the Attitudes towards the Teaching Profession

I find it annoyingly ironic that the same people who complain about how lousy / uninspired / uncreative teachers are - are the same people who: -

1. dogmatically hold the "those who can't, teach" credo to heart;
2. view the teaching profession as an unexciting dead rut;
3. discourage their children from becoming teachers because it allegedly yield no ROI value;
4. daily badger and criticize teachers without offering help, assistance, advice, appreciation towards said teachers.
5. expect the teacher to take up all the slack in moulding young minds, without realizing that education isn't just confined to the classroom environment.


You want brilliant teachers for your children? Then stop this caveman-like mentality. Just stop it.

Olivier's Henry V and Branagh's Henry V - A Comparison

Disclaimer: This essay / commentary is bred from entirely my own thoughts, opinion, and interpretation. It is not to be regarded as authoritative.

     Laurence Olivier's Henry V  opens with a flyer advertising the play hovering around the skyline of 1590-1600s London. The movie's opening sequence shows wonderful shots of the Globe, of the boisterous groundlings, the aristocrats taking their places in a dignified manner, of fruit-sellers taking advantage of the hustle and bustle to sell their produce. What was really interesting was that, from the onset, it was already made clear that what the audience - the ones at the Globe and the ones watching their TV sets - is seeing is a staged play.

     Thus, modern audience would have an inkling of what a Shakespearean play would have look like back in the 17th century. A layer of richness is sewn into the film as the modern audience not only watched the play, but witnessed the whole process of its production - how the actors are dressing up and getting ready, what the actors would've done when rain starts to fall on the open air Globe Theatre. There is also a comical and lighthearted tone injected into the film as well, with the Archbishop of Canterbury botching up his lines, and the Bishop of Ely leaving his hat offstage.

     In stark contrast, Kenneth Branagh's Henry V is treated almost like a gritty, realistic historical drama. This King, compared to Olivier's Henry, is less sure of himself, is more intense and brooding of his responsibility as King. The king is all fury and righteous anger in one moment, and in the next he is racked with guilt, broodingly carrying the burden of the throne on his shoulder. He speaks softly and dangerously at some points, and the next he is mad with rage, knocking his bedfellow Lord Scroop down onto the table, anguished with the latter's betrayal.

     Branagh deliberately takes pains to dial up the emotions, feelings, fears, insecurities of the characters. Even to the point, admittedly, of being a little melodramatic and hammy. Each character is lovingly given a backstory, with flashbacks in order for the audience to truly empathise and connect with them. Henry, though obviously the protagonist in the play, is portrayed in an ambivalent light. He is tortured by his two selves - Harry whose roots he has not forgotten, and the King of England, who needs to be the model and example of the army and indeed, of the nation.

     The agony of being king, whilst present also in Olivier's Henry during his soliloquy and prayer, is rather fleeting as opposed to Branagh's Henry. Perhaps part of the reason why it was harder for the audience to establish a deeper emotional connection to Olivier's Henry is because we know that it is a theatrical play. Hence it put forward an additional layer which creates an emotional distance between the audience and the characters (whom we know are play-actors).

     Olivier's version, produced in 1944, has a political factor influencing its treatment. Produced just after the Second World War, it is a movie that sought to boost patriotism and national morale. (Davies, The Shakespeare films of Laurence Olivier)  Hence, we could see that the movie was leaning more towards the potential and possibilities of a new start. When the Duke of Burgundy gives his speech about the cost of war, we see the desolation of the French lands, but it soon pans up to a regal, beautiful castle. The possibilities and prosperity the marriage of the two kingdoms yielded are emphasised. On the other hand, Branagh's Henry focused on the consequences and heartache of war that are borne by both parties. The audience is stirred up as they see the bodies of young boys laying strewn across the muddy plain. But there is also the feeling of empathy for the enemy, as the French also gathers up their dead, and as the Frenchwoman attempts to assault King Henry for the loss of her loved one.

     All in all, a very interesting contrast seen between the two films. Olivier's Henry is self-assured and more kinglike in his mien, and we gain a certain insight to the historical context of staging a Shakespearean play. While on the other hand, Branagh seeks to be authentic in that he wishes to unveil the complexities, tragedy of war, and of being King.

     

      

Disclaimer: This essay / commentary is bred from entirely my own thoughts, opinion, and interpretation. It is not to be regarded as authoritative.

     

A Complaint - William Wordsworth 

There is a change—and I am poor;

Your love hath been, nor long ago,

A fountain at my fond heart's door,

Whose only business was to flow;

And flow it did; not taking heed

Of its own bounty, or my need.

What happy moments did I count!

Blest was I then all bliss above!

Now, for that consecrated fount

Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,

What have I? shall I dare to tell?

A comfortless and hidden well.

A well of love—it may be deep—

I trust it is,—and never dry:

What matter? if the waters sleep

In silence and obscurity.

—Such change, and at the very door

Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.

(source: www.poetryfoundation.org)

        In this poem, there is a general sense that the persona is feeling unhappy and discontent with his relationship with his beloved. It could be read that he is lamenting his beloved's lack of interest, concern, and affection for him.

      But I find it goes deeper than that. As I was reading it, I find that it is also lamenting the transmogrification that a romantic relationship inevitably undergoes. I use the word 'transmogrification' because I believe that was what the persona would have seen the process as - a radiant, glowing, sparkling feeling that has since died down and dulled into something plain and mundane. Note the first noun that appears in the poem - it is the word "change". And change is rightfully used to signify not so much the loss of love, but rather the change in its form and  appearance.

        The persona brings up two rather different - yet paradoxically similar - images to describe love. In the first half of the poem, he nostalgically remembers the beauty of a new relationship, the excitement, the thrill, the soaring heights towards which it lifts people up. The image of a fountain is used, one that spurts out a "murmuring, sparkling, living love". The alliterative words sprinkled in the first stanza - "fountain", "fond", "flow" - with its soft "f" sounds reinforces the sensation of flight and elation.

        But there is soon a change in tone in the second stanza, as the ecstasy of new love ebbs away and transmutes into something more inconspicuous and reticent. The first two statements show the rapture of the persona as he exultantly exclaims the happy moments he and his beloved shared. Then, with a voltaic "Now", the persona makes it known that there is a slow but sure shift in their love. He begins to have doubts, insecurities, fears, as he puts forward questions to which he realises that their love has simmered into something quite unremarkable and unextraordinary.

        That is when the second image of love is brought forth. The persona is despaired at the thought that he is left with only a "comfortless and hidden well". He reluctantly admits in a dash-laden third stanza that it is no doubt a "well of love", functional, useful, necessary to sustain life. It never is "dry", and it runs "deep". But it is less glamorous than the previous form of love.

        The persona seems to debate with himself for a while which of the two types of love he would rather have. But alas, he prefers the aesthetically beautiful but impractical fountain as opposed to the beneficial but uninteresting well. The heavy "d" words lend a rather sober, dampened sense, as opposed to the previous use of the "f" sounds, which gives the sense that the persona would rather revert back to the soaring, high-flying feelings of love rather than the deep-rooted, quiet love that he has now. Almost nonchalantly, he dismisses the well's steadfastness and loyalty, opining that deep, hidden love that sleeps in "silence and obscurity" is no love at all, putting all further indecisiveness to rest with a strong full stop at the end of line 16.

        The persona brings us back full circle, as he again bewails the change in love, and how this has cost him dearly and left him poor.

    

The Paradox of being Grounded and wanting to Fly

I can't quite put these thoughts and feelings into proper words yet, but I'll try. This story reads more like a prosaic poem rather than a narrative, and I think it works better for me. Rough around the edges, but it really does illuminate the thoughts around my head somewhat.

     I remember these roots of mine, planting me firmly on the ground. They nurture me, they grow me, they are my support. They make me who I am, inject life into me, they are what make life beautiful and radiant - almost heart-wrenchingly so. They are a multiplicity of faces, a diverse mesh of characters, idiosyncrasies, fears, insecurities, souls. Just as no two roots are identical, they come in different shapes and sizes. The way the individual roots love me, perceive me, are different, and the way I love each of them are different. But they are all similar in that they keep me standing tall, proud, strong; they keep me sturdy and steadfast, loving me enough to take hold of the dirt and mud to provide me with a strong support.

      And I grow with their love, nourished with these drops of refreshing water they feed me. A little smile, a kind word, a hug, affection underlying a gruff exterior. And soon I grow tall enough to see the sky.

     How glorious the sky is! How majestic in the infinite possibilities that it offers. Fresh possibilities come surging in as soft billowy clouds roll on. I sense the refreshing water contained there, the drops of would-be rain that smelt of liberty, freedom, and whole vistas of potential.

     And I reached for them. Reached for the clouds that are above me, striving to be the tallest tree there is, taking joy not in my height but in my journey of trying. There is a world beyond this patch of land of mine, a world beyond the canopy of leaves that I see overhead. O I try to reach skywards, to attain all this, to drink in the beauty of this world, to fly.

     But these roots. They intend not to hold me back but to hold me down. Keeping me firmly in place, just as they have faithfully and loyally done all this while. And I cannot uproot myself, I cannot fly away, I cannot abandon these ones who have loved me and whom I love so fiercely. But my eyes turn up to the sky, and my heart, my spirit yearns to be among the sky, to soar up and fly.

      I feel my roots work hard to gather water to quench my thirst as the wind dance around my leaves, teasing for me to grow.

     I want to grow. I want to grow deeper... But I want to grow higher. Is it possible to want to grow in opposite directions?

     How now? How shall I reconcile ... myself? These two complete selves of mine?

Sucked Dry.

"You can't eat the orange and throw the peel away - a man is not a piece of fruit!"

-Willy Loman, Death of a Salesman (Arthur Miller)

     I've always been fascinated by this line, because the analogy is at once so deeply striking and more so because I could relate to it on a personal level.

     This feeling always gets me from time to time: the feeling of being squeezed dry till the very last drop of my everything is milked. Rather melodramatic, I know. But the feeling is a familiar one.

     I love being around people, I love helping them, I love loving them. One of the greatest joys of my life is knowing that I brought a smile to someone's face. And oftentimes, I am content just knowing that I cheered someone up or made them laugh.

     But once in a while, the feeling of resentment, irritability, and moodiness creep in to take a hold on me. As vain as it sounds, I'd like to feel as though I'm being appreciated for my efforts, or that someone else would take the trouble to be concerned about me or to tickle my funny bone or have a decent chat with me, to really see what's going on with me. 

     And while it's never really wrong to want others to treat you with care and consideration, it becomes a huge issue when you expect others to do so. Like there must be a quid pro quo of sorts. I was nice to you, and now I earn the right to expect you to do the same. And it's especially dangerous to expect people to be nice to me the exact same way I have done for others.

     But it doesn't work that way at all. For the latter part, people have different ways of being nice, of showing gratitude, of loving others. And to expect them to love you the way you love them would only lead to self-inflicted and quite unnecessary heartache.

     To expect others to be nice to you just because you were to them, would only result in such terrible, terrible bitterness.

     And that's why it's so so so important to remind ourselves of WHY we love in the first place.

    "We love because He first loved us." - 1 John 4:19

     Only when we are nourished, replenished, resting in God's radiant, eternal love that we are ever able to love others. Our love for others is a spring of rushing water in which His love is the source. And when we cut ourselves off from the source, the spring is blocked and thus runs dry.

     And that's when I realize that as much as I love to love, and I love to give of myself to others, it is absolutely vital that I remember to take a step back and bask in the glorious spring. I need to be able to enjoy His love, to take time out to be by myself, to be resting in Him, before I could start loving others. Lest we run dry, trying to create a spring of water without the source of it.

Twelfth Night

     I found myself actually being really entertained as I was reading this play. As in, even laughing out loud at certain parts. For me, it was hilarious because I can totally envision the characters and the comedic timing and the dialogue,  just - everything. The plot worked out so nicely, with Sebastian and Viola being mistaken for the other. And at first, I was a bit annoyed at the subplot of Malvolio, but the whole bit with his cross garters and yellow stockings really got me laughing hard (Come on, it was pretty funny!). Plus who could forget the clown & co. just locking Malvolio up and playing mind games with him.

     And of course, it has many elements that comedic films have stolen of late. Cases of mistaken identity, for instance. Someone disguises himself / herself as someone else, and humorous misunderstandings ensue. O goodness, and of course playing pranks on an unlikable character always goes a long way towards being comedic gold.

     Haven't really unpacked all of the little intricacies of the play yet, but other things I liked was the fact that the female characters of the play were really strong, independent ladies. Viola and Olivia were great, smart ladies, able to stand on their own. Plus, I love that despite the clown being - well - a clown, he was the one dispensing little nuggets of wisdom from time to time.

     Loved reading this comedy, and quite looking forward to reading the others!

   

It's Mealtime!

     Super-excited to be cooking a meal for my family tomorrow night. Big challenge ahead, because I'm not too used to cooking five-course dinners - usually I'd cook a few small dishes for myself for a meal. Feeling a little nervous about the timing, and having to manage several dishes at one go.

     This little ramble isn't exactly blog-post worthy, but I thought what the hey! I'm excited for it. Just hoping that my sweet potato fries will turn out alright, and that my family wouldn't suddenly develop an "allergy" towards it, hehe.

Small

      I feel so small. So tiny. So insignificant. Am I anything?

      I try. I'm trying. And I will try. But all I ever do is fall. How do I prove myself to this world? How can show them who I am? That I am trying?

      But You call me to Yourself. And my identity need not be proven, for it is ever cemented in Your heart. You know me. And though I fall, by Your grace, You pick me up. You dust me off. And You show me that Your grace is ever sufficient for me, and that Your power is made perfect in my weakness.

      I am small. The world thinks I am small. But I am grateful, knowing that I have this opportunity to show big my God is, that He would lift one as such as me.

Grandparents

     
Inspired by actual events, haha. ILY grandma and grandpa. <3 There's a fair amount of Malaysian English here as well, so just be aware :)
     
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     Having breakfast with them is sometimes a stressful affair.

     There I was, trying to enjoy my breakfast that consisted of a bowl of muesli and an interesting book, but I suppose circumstances had dictated that my breakfast not be peaceful. And by circumstances, I mean those that come in the form of my grandpa and grandma.
     Grandpa was at the breakfast table on my left, leafing through the newspapers. Grandma was on my right a little distance away, sitting comfortably while skilfully cutting the kangkung, or water spinach, without a chopping board. The scene was ordinary enough, but of course, it was just another arena for their sharp-tongued battles.

      We were having a decent conversation when one party provoked the other (and as in all the previous battles, it was quite uncertain who had instigated it). A few nasty remarks were volleyed back and forth. Somehow we ended up on the topic of my grandpa's social skills - or lack thereof.

     "Ugh, the last time Christine's husband came over-" began grandma.

     "Wait a second, who's Christine??" I said. I am determined to be the pacifist in this word-war, speaking only to ask unnecessary questions or make inane comments.

      "Aiya, Christine is your ah yee (aunt's) friend lor. Anyway, her husband came over to visit. And was chit-chatting to your grandpa. He didn't say anything, just nodded and smiled," she waved her knife about as she was narrating the story. I saw a piece of cut kangkung fly off from the knife and onto the floor.

     "That's because I was watching TV!" my grandpa said in defense, his bushy eyebrows shooting up across his forehead in anger. But the effect was lost when he turned to me and grinned cheekily. He likes pushing my grandma's buttons, and he knows I know it.

     "When someone is talking to you, you should talk to them as well! Not watch TV," she huffed a little, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

      "Well, who asked that fella to be so bodoh (stupid)? I'm obviously only interested in the TV, I don't want to talk to him. No common sense," he said indignantly. But again, he turned and nudged me on my elbow, grinning as though we are sharing a secret joke between ourselves.

     My grandma's answer was lightning-fast, almost like she rehearses it on a daily basis.

      "You're the one who is bodoh!" And she began her tirade with a generous number of acidic insults that she has reserved specially for him. He gladly parried all her insults with some of his own. I tried to smooth things over by deflecting their attention to other things. "Look at the fish," I said, pointing at the tiny aquarium containing a single fighting fish. "Look how cute the fishie is." But to no avail. The fish merely became another topic that fed their fiery discourse.

     So the battle goes on. Then mercifully, there came the quiet and silence of a ceasefire. The two had quite worn out their colourful vocabulary used to verbally assault one another, and have decided to retire to their respective corners. One resumed cutting up the vegetables, the other content with flipping through the newspapers.

      I sighed in relief. From experience, I know the ceasefire wouldn't last long, and a fresh round of biting remarks is well on the way. But I'll enjoy the silence for now. Plus, despite being caught in the middle of the tension, I can't ever say that my mornings are ever short of being very very very entertaining.

   

You mean You Don't Know?

I am very perplexed when people go 'you mean you don't know??!' when I ask them something. Obviously I don't otherwise I wouldn't have asked..

And when you want to ask them questions, because you're curious and you want to find out more, some people get this superior attitude like 'oh my goodness, you mean you don't know about that?' What a way of discouraging others from cultivating an inquisitive mindset. Rather than judging others, we should inspire them to be a little less ignorant.

I feel like there're so many things about which I want to ask and learn, but I feel so disheartened when I'm put down from not knowing 'enough' or when I'm expressing my own views on the matter. It really just makes me want to shut up and find things out on my own.

Ah well. Perhaps this is my own bruised ego talking. And I am aware of my own shortcomings as well, of judging people who I feel are 'ignorant'. But alas, I know that it shouldn't be so. Rather than criticising what is lacking in others, I need to inspire them, support them to grow and learn more. And that goes for myself as well. It'd be shameful and painful to admit what is lacking in me, but I hope that I shall boast in my weaknesses, and see them as opportunities to grow.

Soundtrack of my Summer

     Soundtracks of movies are my jam right now. I'm currently playing the "How to Train Your Dragon" (both 1 and 2) soundtrack over and over again. John Powell is an amazing composer, and I just loved how he infused such beautiful instruments together and created just the right atmosphere and tone for the movie. Plus, he makes Viking music sound pretty awesome, with the bagpipes in all their glory (I do believe they're bagpipes - they sure sound like them). And with the release of HTTYD2, I'm just so enthralled by the way he layers the new tunes with hints of the old, giving a fuller sound to it. 


     It never really occurred to me before this how much soundtracks just shape the mood and the whole texture of a movie. And when I replay them, they take me back to the emotions and feelings that I've experienced when I was actually watching the movies. And some of the soundtracks that I've fallen in love with is of course Disney soundtracks, Slumdog Millionaire, Guardians of the Galaxy, (500) Days of Summer, Lord of the Rings, Shakespeare in Love, etc. Such memorable soundtracks, enough to make you feel as if your soul is swelling up within you.

Forgotten

“Give praise to the Lord, proclaim His name; 

make known among the nations what He has done.

Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; 

tell of all His wonderful acts.

Glory in His holy name; 

let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice”.

1 Chronicles 16: 8-10.

      Yesterday I had forgotten for Whom I am living for. I guess at times, I slip back into that mindset where I believe that my life is my own. And honestly, it's very tiring living for your own self. Because my own desires, needs, wants, ambitions - they never end, never fully satiated.

     While being a Christian is NOT easy at all, living for Him, serving Him, it naturally brings such joy and fulfillment. 

    And I had forgotten that fact yesterday. Instead, I was pandering to my own sense of self-importance, with the result of feeling down, dry, and discouraged.

    Thank You Lord for this verse, which reminds me that I'm living for You, and that buoys me up with such joy. :)

"Personal" Faith?

      We've all heard the saying that our religion, our faith, is our own personal choice, and it's no one's business to question it or challenge it. I used to think that too, but now I'm just pondering to what extent is that true.

     I do agree that faith is personal... but personal in the sense that we can't really say we believe in a God unless we have truly felt in our hearts and are convinced in our minds that there is a God. And yes, I do believe that faith is personal in the sense that we should have the freedom of choice to follow the faith our hearts and minds convict us of.

     But I find that it's quite misleading - and even inaccurate - to say that it's no concern of anyone else's what faith we make the stand to follow. Think about it logically, if we choose to put our trust in a God, it's obviously going to affect other people one way or the other! If all the decisions and actions that we take affect others, then a religious or spiritual decision would obviously affect others, and perhaps would even be the core element in the way others are affected. If our faith and religious beliefs shape us the way we are, then obviously it's going to affect the way we treat others.

     So you can't really blame others for questioning your faith or asking about it. Yes, a person should never shove his / her beliefs down someone's throat, but it shouldn't come as a surprise when someone asks about an individual's faith. You can't just curtly say "it's between me and God".

     Let's face it, faith is paradoxically both personal and also communal. Because it moulds your very character, it would inevitably leak into the way you treat your family, your friends, your society, the global community.

     If someone were to ask me about my faith (or lack of it), I would think that the best thing to do is not to just brush the topic aside and say that "it's personal". It's best to think about the answer long and hard, long before the question is asked. Because if I don't have an answer to that, I should think I should do some self-reflection and discover where I stand on the matter.

Short Story: "I am Bored".

I am bored. I have nothing to do. Poor me, I have so much time, but nothing to fill it up with.

You there, Facebook. I am certain that you shall soon remedy my boredom. Scrolling down the News Feed. Ah there, there are good pictures of my friends. Funny status updates. Like, like, comment, comment, share. I shall post up a few pictures of my own. Yes, 21 likes. Excellent, I have gathered 38 likes. Finally, I have achieved 52 likes! This pleases me greatly! Ah, but Facebook is now boring to me.


No matter, I shall switch to another website. Yes, excellent, YouTube will certainly entertain me. Go on, make me laugh with that. Yes, entertain me with that humorous cat video. Yes, you dancers, dance and prance around for me. I am in need for a good, hearty laugh. Let me jump around YouTube, and discover what new videos it has to offer me. 

Ah but now YouTube has grown tiresome. What else could I watch to amuse myself? Ah, Tumblr. Ah, Instagram. Ah, Twitter. Ah, Buzzfeed. So much to watch, so much to see, so much to entertain me, amuse me, dance for me. 

Alas! What is this? Have I watched everything? Is there nothing left to gratify my funny bone? I shall click refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

I see that I have seen almost everything. This displeases me. I am absolutely appalled that the Internet is not providing me with some lighthearted entertainment; it is useless to me, it offers me nothing whatsoever.

Perhaps. Perhaps I should go out. Get off this chair and away from the computer. Perhaps it will do me some good. Perhaps I shall enjoy it. Hm, it does seem like an interesting prospect. 

...But first, let me refresh, perhaps there is something new on Facebook. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Refresh.

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Hi all. This is just a silly idea of mine to write a satire about the way we expect the Internet to entertain us and fill up our time, instead of taking the initiative to look for exciting new things to try or learn. Technology is meant to inspire us to learn more about the world we live in, rather than making us content with the bubble we've made for ourselves.
I'm not trying to make fun of anyone, and this is not based on a particular person (not intentionally anyway). Goodness knows, I've done this countless times, just staying in front of my computer and waiting for something interesting to entertain me. But I'd like to challenge everyone (including myself) to go out and find that something interesting to do or learn, instead of waiting for it to come to you :) 

Look out for yourself

     People tell me "you shouldn't need to do that", or "you don't always have to look out for others, just look out for yourself." I understand that these people care deeply about me, love me deeply and that they're just concerned that I put others' needs above my own a little too much.

     But these aren't words that encourage me at all. In fact, it's the total opposite. I thank all these people for genuinely caring for me, and I do admit that sometimes I feel a little worn out having to take care of others.

     But to be absolutely honest, I enjoy taking care of others and to love others and to serve others. Yes, it's tiring, and yes I whinge about it. But like the old adage goes, if it's worth doing, it ain't going to be easy doing it. If I'm passionate about doing something, I'm not going to be finding it easy.

     When people tell me, "you don't always have to be so nice you know", I don't actually feel cared for or that they're "looking out" for me. Instead, I just feel utterly discouraged because helping others and taking care of others is part of who I am. When I was growing up, and in fact in my life right now, a lot of the times I have to set my own needs and desires aside in order to show my love for others. And yes, sometimes it's painful, but I'm happy doing it because seeing others made happy is a joy to me as well. 

      I would much rather people acknowledge and appreciate me for what I'm doing, rather than saying "hey you shouldn't have to do that you know" when I actually do like helping others. 

     I once had someone tell me that I'm always a little too "self-sacrificial" and "giving". Someone actually said that "you don't always have to be so nice, people can think for themselves". Okay that's true. Then why don't you trust me enough to know that I know my limit, and that I can also think for myself whether or not I would be able to extend help? Why don't you trust that I can think for myself and say 'no' when I have to?

     Okay. I really do appreciate that you're looking out for me. (I know it sounds sarcastic, but I'm genuinely appreciative of it). But I would much rather people acknowledge and appreciate me for me, for my nature which is apparently "too self-sacrificial". I want people to understand that I go all the way to help people because I want to. Please understand and trust that I am able to say 'no' if the act of helping others get a little over my head. And when you see I've bitten off more than I can chew, why not say "I know that you're trying to help, but I don't think it's good for you to do this" or something to that effect. At least I would feel more encouraged than just being told that I shouldn't be "too nice".

     Again. I know the people who tell me this are just looking out for me. But I don't want to feel disheartened when I want to be polite or helpful. I just want to feel encouraged and inspired to love and serve others, and to have someone gently nudge me if I'm doing too much.

Short Story: “The Nothingness”

Disclaimer: The story below is purely a piece of creative writing. It is not written based on my personal experience, nor have I known anyone who has experienced it. I do not understand the pain that anyone who has undergone, or who is undergoing it, has felt; nor do I presume to do so. I am truly sorry if this has brought up any painful memories for the reader.

Her feet quietly kicked off her blanket, and in the darkness, her toes seek the bedroom floor. They made contact with the cool surface and gingerly the rest of her feet eased onto it. She got to her feet and they carried her forward towards the door; it was as if they were on autopilot mode, mechanically scuffling along to take her to the place she had been gravitating towards the past few days.

Her eyes blink away the darkness of the room, adjusting to brightness of the lit hallway. They flit over to the bed she’d just left, and the figure of a man on it, tiredly snoozing away.  But her eyes quickly snap back to the hallway.

Her hand slowly drew the door to a close. It slid silently from the doorknob, and rest unconsciously on her tummy. Her stomach gave a lurch as her heart sank: her tummy never felt so empty before. Her hand then dropped and rested at her side.

Her feet continued to glide towards the room that has been her source of hope and disappointment for such a long time. They come to a stop right before the beige door and her hands instead carried the forward momentum from her legs, reaching out towards the golden doorknob and turning it gently. Working as though in a tag team, her hand retreated back to her sides and her legs took over. They surged forwards, carrying her to a pastel yellow crib standing alone in the corner of a room.

Her eyes picked out all the little things that she and her husband had placed in the room over the past four months. Saw the stuffed toy bears strewn across the room. The boxes of diapers and baby clothes that were left unpacked. The mobile hanging above the crib, softly going round and round over the head of a baby that never made it to the crib. Her eyes pushed back the tears that were threatening to fall.

Her feet stopped right in front of the crib. Her hand reached down to the contents inside the crib, fingering the soft quilt that it has spent countless nights knitting for the baby that would have come. Her fingers graze the pillow on which the baby’s soft head would have been placed.

It’s strange. How her body could function so perfectly, so harmoniously together. How her individual body parts are alive, knitting together the different senses to create a coherent picture for her. When her baby's could not. Was not given the chance to do so.

But now her body fails her. Her hand falls limp, her feet crumple beneath her, and her eyes no longer had the willpower to combat the onslaught of tears that slid down her face fast and furiously. She lays down on the cold wooden floor, curling into a fetal position, as if to make amends for the absence of one who was supposed to do the same in this very room.

She closes her eyes, and lets her hands and feet lie where they are. She embraces the stillness and darkness, and wonders if this nothingness is what her baby is feeling.

Transformers 4

Spoilers ahoy!     

     Honestly, there were so many things about this movie that make my blood boil at the fact that I've wasted a good three hours watching it. First of all: the plot. It seemed like a promising one at first, the Autobots were being hunted down and being labelled as threats even though they were clearly not. And everything seems set for a perfect action movie with the introduction of lead characters who are engineers/inventors, who might actually be able to contribute to the action. 

     Alas, it was too good to be true. 

     Elephant-sized plot holes started appearing all around. Like the fact that Cade managed to fix a critically wounded Optimus Prime in less than a day. Or the fact that Cade is able to contact Joshua Joyce out of nowhere. Because Cade apparently has the magic superpower of dodging plot holes. Plain weirdness and non-common sense reigned for about 98% of the film. Like the weird transition to China, and the convenient dino bot thingos, and the super awkward fact that the main antagonist - Harold Attinger - wanted to combat aliens by employing the help of other aliens...? Seriously, who wrote this script?

    Interesting characters gradually became paper-thin 2D characters by the end of the movie rather than being carefully and lovingly fleshed out. Tessa's character could have the potential to become the next Megan Fox character - a cool, beautiful chick who knows her way around machines and who could actually be useful to the team. But nooooo. She had to be used as the pretty face. Her character was interesting at first, she had to take care of her dad, she had to get a scholarship to go to college, her dad even said that he taught her all she needed to know about mechanics and machines. But urgh, was she a letdown. She was just used by Michael Bay as the mandatory pretty face, one whom Bay, by the way, consistently remind us is only sixteen years old. Oh gosh, if she had to be pretty poster girl, could he at least have her be a little street smart? She ran into a car which was right smack in the middle of a battle between Optimus Prime and Lockdown. Shouldn't she, I don't know, run away from the car instead? Ooh and when everyone's running for their lives, trying to escape Lockdown's ship, she suddenly has to freak out and provide an opportunity for those alien hounds to run after them.

     Shane was an inconsistent character, I don't even know what to think of him. One time he's saying he would do anything for Tessa and the next he's surrendering to the aliens. Meh. Joshua and Cade's characters are alright, but still I don't care for them much. Mostly, I was just annoyed at them though.And then there're side characters who are just hovering in the periphery of the main plot, not far enough for us to dismiss them but not near enough for us to care for them. There was Yueming, Darcy, and Lucas, all given a fair amount of screen time, but enough for us to develop any sort of liking towards them. 

    And my goodness. The movie was sooooooo long that I literally fell asleep. There was just too much going on and the way that the plot progresses was just so confused and hazy. When the Autobots manage to defeat those robots in Hong Kong, I was elated. It was like, "yes finally the battle is over!" Then Lockwood's ship started rolling in, and I could feel my heart just burst into tears. Then I settled in for a good nap, waking up at the end of the movie when the Autobots and humans were saying their goodbyes.
     Perhaps the only thing I liked about this film is the scenes with just the robots, sans the humans. The Autobots were interesting and they had a nice dynamic between the different characters. I can actually tell them apart now, which is a huge improvement from the previous movies. But it's really rather sad of a movie when the only thing good about it is the CGI-ed robot interactions rather than the acting skills of live humans. Ah well, maybe that's why even Optimus Prime decides to leave earth by the end of the movie. Perhaps he's had enough of Bay's shenanigans. 

"Bersyukurlah" - The Art of Being Grateful.

   "Bersyukur". In Malay, it means to be thankful, grateful. We know it means to count one's blessings, to be contented with what one has. On the surface, it seems to be a passive word. But why must it be?

   We shouldn't *just* be happily contented with what we have. We have to go beyond that. Neither should we keep on demanding for more, nitpicking and fussing over every single thing that doesn't go our way.

   When we see the injustice around us each day, we shouldn't just say "oh just be grateful with what you have and quit complaining". Yes, we should be grateful with what we have, and yes we should stop complaining and whining. But we should then translate our gratefulness into action. We have been blessed with so much in Malaysia, but does this mean we should be grateful by sitting back in ease and comfort, twiddling our thumbs? If we are truly blessed with much, should we not extend our blessings and resources to those who are less fortunate than ourselves? Should we not use what we have been blessed with to give back to society, to our nation, to the world? If we want to start making a difference, if we want to start becoming agents of change, we have to stop seeing "bersyukur" as a passive action and start seeing it as an active one.

Why are we so Scared?

"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength".

-1 Corinthians 1: 25    

     Why are we so scared of having our faith shaken? We sometimes forget that having our faith shaken is the best thing ever; it breaks us off our complacency and builds up a faith stronger than before.

    Needless to say, there is a lot of contention over the accuracy of the Bible. I maintain that the Bible is a true and faithful historical account of God’s relationship with men, and whatever “differences” or “inaccuracies” are merely minor. I suppose what disturbs me is the way some study notes are written as facts when some of the information given is actually based on theories or speculation. These are minor, such as the differences in genealogy between Matthew and Luke, or the dates the gospels were written, etc. etc. Yes, some of the information is rather cloudy and it does raise a lot of questions, but I do believe that, well, such is the way of the world. There are a lot of things that are not known to us, but that doesn't necessarily make it untrue!!! After all, many historical records have minor differences in perspectives, facts, etc. I have trust in the Lord my God, and I know that He is alive and He is real. In fact, the very fact that we don’t know everything about the things in the Bible just show that God is mysterious and we can never hope to comprehend Him in His fullest, most complete nature.

    I just wonder why some theories are being passed off as facts in these study notes. They are, after all, theories. The basic historical truths are all laid down, and these extraneous things would not – and should not - affect or shake my faith at all. It irks me that the study notes could not say “there is a theory that…” etc. etc, and the uninquisitive reader take it as fact. For instance, my study notes state that Luke marks Mary’s genealogy, when there is no concrete proof that this is so. I mean, perhaps it is such a widely held view that the writers thought that they should just write it as fact, but still. It feels as if (though it might not be) that the writers feel the need to assert it as proof because they don’t want anyone questioning seriously why this is so, or they don’t want to challenge the readers’  faith so much. It is as though they want to “justify” God’s ways or the supposed “inaccuracies” of the Bible, rather than having faith enough in the Bible to trust that it can withstand all these questions.

    I believe that when I question the Bible, it’s because I have faith that God’s word will prevail (of course, I must question with the right motives – to genuinely want to find out more, rather than question God in order to shoot Him down and close my heart to Him, e.g. like Job did). I believe that when I challenge my faith by asking these questions, God will surely reveal Himself to me and I know He will grow my faith through this way.

    Nonetheless, one important thing about questioning the Bible is that sometimes we have to be content  with never knowing EVERYTHING.  One of the hardest thing that God has taught me is that… I am a finite being. There is no possibility of me knowing and understanding EVERYTHING He does, there is no chance of me knowing His motives and reasons COMPLETELY. After all, His ways are so much higher than my ways, His thoughts so much higher than my thoughts. And we have to sometimes let our questions go, and leave it as one of the many mysteries of our God. There are those who feel that the Bible should not be questioned in any circumstance. Then there are those who feel that they should question the Bible incessantly, being supremely skeptical about it, not even entertaining the mere possibility that it might hold true. It's a hard balancing act to try to land in the middle of these two extremes, but it's a necessary action to take.  We must be careful never to turn the pursuit of the knowledge of God into the goal itself, neither should we just be content in our faith, and not strive to grow it by shaking it up a little. What's important to bear in mind is the fact that the knowledge of God and the faith in Him should go hand-in-hand. We can't have faith in a God we don't know about, we can't know a God that we don't have faith in.