flowers in this wasteland

i was cleaning up today and found this - it amused me.

2011-08-10T19:51:00.003-04:00

I woke up with a start wondering why my head was reeling with pain, surveying my unfamiliar surroundings. As the events of the past 24 hours came rushing back to my mind I steadied myself and glanced at the clock: 2:30. I only remember lying my head down for a second but I had overslept!

I scanned the room and began furitively packing my bag with one hand while trying to pit on my shoes with the other. The heavy footsteps down the end of the hall froze my blood and sent me into a panic, immediately jumping to conclusions - they had come at last! The innkeeper with the shifty eyes! [really Kim? Really? of all the cheese to just throw out there... I love it!]. I knew he could not be trusted, and now there was no time left. In a few seconds they would be at the door and I would be taken.

The footsteps paused and I could hear voices, which broke the spell that paralyzed me. I rushed for the window, no time to take anything with me. Wrenching it open with a noise that could have woken the dead I stepped out onto the roof overhanging the patio.
Just as I was slipping down from the roof to the safety of the patio I saw the door to my room being opened and a pair of eyes met mine...

On humanitarianism, paternalism, colonialism and love. (part 1?)

2011-08-02T05:26:00.001-04:00

Before I left on my travels my mom gave me some books for the way. One of these, which I read during my 2 week intermission in Australia before PNG was called “Following Jesus through the Eye of the Needle”. It was about a young man and his wife who go to Haiti to live and work and be missionaries, and their journey through that time in their lives. The book is not terribly theologically sound, or even very mature, and yet it is honest. The thoughts and feelings that the author, Kent, expresses are very real and relatable, and they raise very valid questions about life and how to live.

It resonated with me because I’ve been contemplating many of the issues that the book brings forth. Indeed, before deciding on this trip I was quite seriously thinking about doing a longer stint of medical missions work, and when that didn’t fall into place and this journey just came together this was the path that I went instead.

One of the things that Kent brings up early in the book is his motivation for going. There are ever so many reasons to go – (and conversely I suppose, to not go). It’s easy to gloss over questions of motivation with easy answers like, “Jesus said that we should go to the ends of the earth to preach the good news, and so that’s what we’re doing.”
That’s a good answer, but it’s usually always a lot more complicated than that.

There’s the whole guilt thing to think about. Kent describes the story of “The rich young man and Jesus” as one of his main reasons for going. Briefly, a rich young man comes up to Jesus and asks him “how do I inherit eternal life?” and Jesus tells him to sell all that he has and follow Him. The rich man walks away, sad.

In that story, it’s easy to say that Jesus was talking about the rich young man, and not about me, – or that the story describes a lordship issue – as in the young man was ruled by his money, and so Jesus wanted to free him from that and become his Lord instead – you can’t serve both God and money.

But still, I wonder – I mean, by North American standards I’m not rich – and yet by the world’s standards, and even by my own, I realize that I very much am. I have so much, and live in such comfort and luxury every day, much of which I take for granted. I wonder how much all of this rules over me. Jesus, who lived as a poor carpenter in a poor small town, and then as a homeless street preacher when He was on earth – would He be disgusted with the sheer extravagance of my life?

It’s easy to justify myself by saying that actually, I don’t live that extravagantly, I live pretty moderately by my cultural standards, and yet I think that is just giving out excuses. I’m disgusted by my lifestyle sometimes – most of the time – especially when I look at the lives of people who have so much less – who need to struggle to get by everyday – it’s just completely unfair.

I suppose the easy thing to do would be to not look at all – to just bury my head in the sand – or rather
to just stick to North America and the rich countries and be in my little rich-world bubble, where all I need to do to be happy is buy the next thing that “they” tell me to.

It has somehow been harder to take it all in while I’ve been traveling in Australia because of the
affluence that I see all around me (when you are a tourist and in a different culture you notice things that perhaps you are blind to in your own world and own culture) – it’s rather disgusting – and being a tourist and going to all these tourist places – it really has me thinking. It’s not that I feel that it is wrong for me to be traveling or be in Australia, but just a realization that this isn’t at all that I want for my life – to live in that sheltered little bubble of affluence.

And so what is a proper or right motivation to go and work in a developing country? Is it guilt? Is it paternalism or colonialism – as if I come to this new land with all the answers for how you should live, and you ought to listen to me? That is what you don’t want it to be. And yet, Kent (in the book) talks about how even though he and his wife tried to go in humility to serve the people of Haiti – it still comes off as paternalism – the rich white Americans going to the poor country to fix its problems. The people that they interact with see them as the rich white Americans, even though by American standards they would not be considered rich at all – especially since they gave up everything that they had there to go to Haiti. But still the question arises of whether their presence there is causing more harm than good.

Sometimes I feel like a lot of the ventures that we do – a lot of the aid organizations and NGOs , don’t really help in the grander scheme of things and ARE doing more harm than good. For example providing aid money or food handouts to people – it often keeps them in cycles of dependence – so you keep them alive for the day, but they become dependent on the help of foreigners to survive – it’s not sustainable. This is one of the reasons that the new trend in development work is micro-financing and enterprise development – that is, giving people loans and the tools that they need to start their own small businesses and create opportunities for themselves.

So things like education (giving people opportunities to sustain themselves and move up in the world) are good – at yet, not always. I think about the young nursing students I met at Life University in Cambodia – most of whom want to go to Korea when they graduate. That sounds great for them – and who am I to begrudge them the opportunity to better their lives, and earn well, and move up in the world? And yet the “brain drain” is affecting poor countries throughout the world, as rich countries “steal” the skilled and educated workers, leaving behind the poor and uneducated – restarting the cycle of poverty again. How is a country supposed to better itself if this is going on, and if the efforts that we are contributing are only helping to have this process carry on? And yet, how can you say to those young hopeful students that they ought to stay in their country to serve, when leaving may be the only chance that they and their families have for a “good” or “successful” life – at least one with a higher standard of living and with more money. Is it worth it to better the life of that person who I am serving/educating, even if it isn’t helping the big picture?

Then of course, there is also the fact that if I was not there to teach or nurse or whatever my position would be, there would be someone else, a local, who could do the job – probably better, as they would have a better understanding of the culture, of tropical diseases, of the language – who would be paid for the work that they are doing. By going, am I just stealing local peoples jobs? I think most NGOs – at least the big ones – have caught on to this and so employ mostly locals for basic care (so direct nursing care), and foreigners to oversee projects etc.. At least that is what I found when I was looking for opportunities to work in medical missions in developing countries. However at that, I think, “who am I to come to this new country and oversee locals who have far more experience in the language and the culture and with the people and with what they are doing?” Of course there is value in my experiences and with the knowledge that westerners are able to bring to the table, but still… I just don’t know…

And of course, there is the standard of living issue. When I have gone to places in the past, quite honestly I’ve found that I’m just not built to deal with the standards that the locals have to deal with – I’d probably just up and die. Just the things that they do deal with – the insects, mosquitoes, diseases that these critters carry, water that isn’t safe to drink, unsanitary waste-disposal facilities – without trying to be the princess, quite frankly my immune system isn’t able to handle these things. When I was in Uganda years ago I had one mango shake at a local restaurant and after that a day or so of GI upset and well… you get the picture.

And because of similar issues (understandably?) foreigners live in comparative luxury to the people that they are serving – and I wonder is that fair? Is it helpful to the people of the country – to see this? I’ve heard about people who go to African cities as missionaries, and even though they don’t get a very large salary, what they do get gives them enough to afford gated apartments, with armed guards and air conditioning and TV, stuff like that – stuff that I take for granted (minus the armed guards) – and yet stuff that most of the locals wouldn’t be able to afford.

In “Through the Eye of the Needle” Kent and his wife build a house for themselves to live in. It is only a two room house, and not even the biggest in the community – just about average – and yet it’s only
for the two of them, while most of his neighbours will have about 4 times that many people living in the same 2 room house. So what do you do? It’s just… complicated.

One of the issues that the book covers that I’m really glad it does is the relationships that Kent and his wife have with people, and how they are seen by some of the locals. Sometimes, just because they are
white they have people coming up to them and telling them their troubles – things like “I can’t afford the fees to send my little boy to school”, or “All of my teeth are rotting, but I can’t afford to go to a dentist”. And these are real and vital concerns – but what are they supposed to do? Sure, they could pay for the boy’s tuition or take their neighbor to the dentist – but could they do that for everyone who came to them? How can they possibly meet all of the hurt and all of the need? And how would that change the relationship that they have with those people and with the rest of the community – you’re now the people to go to for a hand-out, it’s back to paternalism, rather than being integrated as brothers and sisters. But what’s the alternative? Not getting involved at all – or hesitating to get involved because of all these issues?

How is that helping? And is that just an excuse to continue to be selfish and enjoy what I have?

Of course, all of the above sort of just applies to the NGO and direct needs-meeting aspect. Of course there is value in bringing the gospel with us wherever we go, to the ends of the earth. I just wonder sometimes if going as the rich white American takes away from the gospel (or disgusts people) rather than serves as an example of Jesus. (And yes, for the purposes of this post I’m pretending to be white and I’m pretending to be American – and the reason is that is what I’m seen as, even not being white and not being American, it doesn’t make a difference, I am all that the image represents).

There are so many questions and issues – and none with easy answers.

Honestly, I’ve no idea what to do – or how to live – or how to love.

Sometimes, I wonder – even at the very basic question that the book presents: Would I be willing to give up everything to follow Jesus? It’s easy to say “yes”. But I haven’t given up everything. I’ve had
it all. What if Jesus said to me, “There is still one thing you lack. Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor, then come follow me.” He is worth so much more than everything that I have – than anything that I ever could have. But I wonder if when the time comes for me to choose, if I will follow Him.

on the ship, PNG, community, and hope

2011-07-29T06:46:00.002-04:00

For a long time before my travels i distanced myself from involvement in community - that is, living life closely alongside other people, and from fellowship with others - which I define basically as being open and sharing my life (fears, dreams hopes, - soul things) with someone else. As I've written about before, when I'm not living openly and honestly and closely before my God, it's hard for me to be able to do that with others. Cambodia was a time of healing and learning to be open and honest again.
Then came Papua New Guinea - where I was "trapped" on a boat full of strangers for weeks together, with nowhere to be alone - and community was forced upon me.

To tell you the truth, Christians terrify me. I know that must sound pretty funny, but it is so. And I wonder if it isn't a similar feelings that others have... Many of my ideas of, and to be perfectly honest my experiences with Christians involve a superficial facade of goodness and peppiness, and a pretense at interest that is more tasteless to me than indifference, never going to deep levels or bothering to address weighty things, just playing in the shallows. So often as Christians we don't represent Jesus well, and we don't love as He does but we tend to dump sugar on everything to pretend it all better. Figuratively speaking of course. Sometimes deep, brutal, ugly honesty without sugar-coating is refreshing. And I know also that the things that bother us the most in others are the things that we see hidden inside of ourselves but don't want to or don't know how to address. I have a lot of issues with trusting people enough to connect with them on a deep level. Serious work in progress...

So initially, thinking of being on a boat in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of Christians was a disconcerting thought.

Yet what I found was a group of people earnestly seeking after God, and inviting me in to join their little family.
Something new for me, which became one of my favourite things to do on the ship was to sit in a little group together and read through a book of the Bible out loud, taking turns one chapter at a time.

Not that everything was or will be perfect. But it was a surprising and gentle reminder of the good things that I had been cutting myself off from, and of the good things that my heart has been longing for.

And it has been an encouragement to me to seek after that kind of community when I go back home. Not looking for perfection or the impossible, but looking to do life alongside other people also seeking after God.

an overview of PNG

2011-07-27T08:03:00.001-04:00

Someone asked for more details as to what happened in PNG, and I think that's fair enough, so although some of you may have already read at least parts of this here goes:

The outreach that I did was with an organization called YWAM – that is, Youth With A Mission. It is a Christian organization, mostly of young people who go out to preach the gospel and do mercy ministry as well. The outreach involved using a ship and volunteer healthcare workers to provide basic medical services to out-lying villages in Papua New Guinea without access to medical care. I went as part of the primary health care team, along with another nurse (in pediatrics), a doctor (also in pediatrics), and a pharmacist. There was also an optometry team, consisting of an optometrist and her husband, and a dentistry team, consisting of a dentist and another nurse, as well as heaps of volunteers to help us organize and keep going.

The dentistry team would work off of the ship, where there was a clean, sterile environment and the dentist could perform extractions and do fillings. The PHC and optometry teams worked on land, loading up dinghies with all our supplies to set up clinics in the various villages we went to.

People in the village and surrounding area would come to the mobile PHC clinics that we set up. One of the main areas that we focused on was well-mum and baby checks - that is prenatal care, assessing if babies were healthy, at a good weight, developing as expected, and giving them immunizations. Another area was wound care. Due to the nature of life in PNG and the dangerous living and working conditions that people deal with everyday, there were lots of different injuries and wounds that we saw - many of which were days, weeks, even months old, but hadn't been seen to by medical workers. In one of the villages in particular, young boys and girls one after the other came to have open sores on their legs and feet dressed and seen to. One of the biggest complaints that people presented with was back, knee and joint pain. For this we would offer teaching and exercise classes. The most important work that we could do was health teaching, such as giving out toothbrushes and teaching kids how to brush their teeth - because the medication and supplies that we had to offer were limited - but simple health education can help to improve peoples lives long after we are gone.

At the beginning of the outreach the ship was docked in Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea, which is where we flew in. At Moresby there are regular, government-run hospitals, and other healthcare services. However, the further away you go from the big city, the less access there is to healthcare and other resources. The Gulf Province was our destination for this outreach. Most of the villages there are connected together by a system of rivers rather than roads.

Due to some setbacks, we weren’t able to set sail quite as planned, and so instead we worked for the first couple of days in a village called Porabada, which was relatively close to Port Moresby. Despite its proximity to Moresby the village of over 8000 people was serviced by only one nurse and her team of healthcare volunteers. We were quite overwhelmed by the numbers of people that came to see us. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for the nurse working in that village on her own.

Once the setbacks were cleared, we set sail for the Gulf Province, which is much more isolated. We docked at two different locations, dividing up our time between the two places.

The first location was Baimaru, where we stayed for the longest time. We received a lovely welcome from the people there. Baimaru has a health clinic, but no doctors. And the village has no stable electricity supply. This means they are not able to keep a fridge, and thus unable to store vaccines. As such, they rely on people like us to come, in order to get all of the babies vaccinated. I don’t think I’ve ever made so many babies cry before as during our few days in Baimaru. But it was a good thing – knowing that now these babies would have at least some protection against several of the dangerous and preventable illnesses that are common in this region.

We also saw some pretty tough cases in Baimaru, where we were not able to do very much for the families, except offer prayer. One of the cases that weighed upon me the most was a lady in perhaps her mid-thirties with stage 4 breast cancer. The only thing that we had to give for her pain was Tylenol (aka paracetamol, or Acetaminophen). It was heart-breaking. There was another lady who was a paraplegic with stage 3-4 pressure ulcers. If she was seen in Toronto, she’d be admitted to the hospital immediately, and ordered a special (very, very expensive) mattress and be on complete bed rest and supplemented nutrition until the ulcers started to heal. However, there weren’t those kinds of resources in Baimaru. All we could give to her husband were a few dressing supplies, and education about the need to rotate pressure spots, and then send them on home to cope as best as they could. It was very tough.

The next place we docked wasn’t really a village but a mission medical centre called Kapuna. PHC team went to a nearby village called Koravake for the first two days, and on the third and last day we went to a little village called Mapaio. The optometry team worked in Kapuna the first day, and then joined PHC. It was amazing how welcoming the people were to have us there, and how generous and loving they were to us – it was such a wonderful experience.

The sail to and from the Gulf Province was quite an adventure in itself – it was 24 hours long (longer on the way back), and during that time, almost everyone on board was ill and throwing up – and that included the crew! The captain said that he never gets seasick, except on this boat – so that’ll give you a bit of an idea of how it was! After the first sail was over, it took another day for my head to stop spinning (after that I got wise and took seasick pills!). I only threw up twice in total – which I’m pretty proud of. Many others had it much worse!

Of course, this is just a very brief recap of what happened during the outreach. There are so many more stories that I don't have time or space for, and so much more that can't be put into words. I still have a lot to digest and learn from my time in PNG. In all it was an amazing experience. I loved meeting and working alongside people from all over the world who came together on this mission project. It was such a privilege to meet and get to know and love the people of PNG who we were serving and were served by.

kim's great Australasian adventure part 2

2011-07-24T08:46:00.000-04:00

right. so all of the previous post is quite probably old information, and yes, after PNG I made my way down the east coast of Australia.
I'm so hesitant to even write this post - and it's the same reason that I haven't emailed about my solo adventures thus far - it's far too much to write or nothing at all. I've decided that it will be nothing at all and pictures, so here we go...

I did the whole backpacking thing - moving from town to town via the greyhound bus and moving from hostel to hostel, heading south towards the cold and winter. becoming a temporary nomad was quite anxiety inducing - not knowing where I would be or what I would be doing or where I would be staying. And yet it was also an amazing time of reflection and spending time with Jesus, and He taught me a lot about trusting Him. I caught a lot of sunrises and some sunsets too, lots of beaches and ocean, and was surrounded by scenery that overwhelmed my senses and my mind, often bringing me to a place of wonder before the beauty of creation and awe before the God who created it. Each stop along the way I was met with God's amazing providence, humbling to see. And I met many interesting and wonderful people along the way as well.

Just briefly, from Cairns I went to Mission Beach, where I did whitewater rafting; then on to Magnetic Island and Townsville, where I caught up with some of the folks I had met on the ship in PNG.
Then it was on to a sailing adventure at Airlie Beach and the Whitsunday Islands - which were incredible, like walking on the icing of a wedding cake.

After that to Hervey Bay and camping on Fraser Island, where I saw a red moon rise from the ocean.
Then on to Brisbane, where I stayed with a wonderful couple that I had met on the ship in PNG.
Then off to Byron Bay for some whale whatching,

After that on to a little town called Port Macquarie, where I visited a koala hospital. Then back to Sydney,
and from there, the overnight bus to Melbourne, where I've been stationary for the past few weeks.

So yes, that is the overview. In all, it's been rather an amazing experience. Hopefully more details to come.

kim's great Australasian adventure part 1

2011-07-23T06:46:00.004-04:00

I suppose that to many, my great Australasian adventure (as I've come to call it, just to add the the epic-ness of it all), came as quite a surprise. And although many of the details of it were rather unplanned, the idea for the trip - or A trip, was a long time in coming.

Sometimes I find I need to get away to gain perspective on life, the universe and everything. Sometimes living gets to the place where you don't know why you do a thing, it's just the necessary thing to do, and so I do it, but there isn't time or space or energy to reflect on the whys and wherefores. But it is the whys and wherefores that drive me. You see, I know the smart thing to do - the things that make sense according to the wisdom of the world, but in pursuing the smart thing, it was as if the bottom of my heart fell through, there was a hole in me and everything emptied out. Leaving was all I could think to do - not the best of ways to arrive at a solution, and definitely not a "smart" thing to do, but in retrospect, one of the best things I have done.

When I first applied for a leave of absence from work, everything was very very vague. But, eventually the pieces of this trip started to come together, and it amazes me even now how they did come together, so that when I look at it I can see God's hand working in it all.
The time that I was granted leave and decided to travel, unbeknownst to me, matched up with my friend Camille's holidays for Khmer New Year, and so my first stop in Cambodia gave me much valued time to spend with an old friend, make new friends, and mostly reconcile with my God. That was my first month.

Next, Joanne and I spent a few days in Hong Kong and 2 weeks in Australia - more specifically Melbourne, Sydney and Cairns. We planned our trip far in advance with careful details. What we didn't know, or couldn't have planned was that the same day she left for Hong Kong would be the same day I was to fly to Papua New Guinea. You see, I had applied to volunteer for a medical mission trip to Papua New Guinea with YWAM, but I hadn't any confirmation about it from them, and no idea about which of the outreaches I would be on, or what the dates were, until I was already in Cambodia, heading off to Vietnam the next day. That is when I got the confirmation and learned that the dates of the mission trip perfectly coincided with the tourist portion of my trip that I had so carefully and randomly (I thought) planned with Joanne. Not only that, there are only a few cities in Australia that fly directly to PNG, and Cairns, my final destination with Joanne, happened to be one of them.
PNG was just under 3 weeks of quite utter amazingness, and deserves several posts, if not more. But during that time I learned so much about the importance of community, the power of prayer, and the nature of serving. After PNG I made my way down the east coast of Australia, which... I think I'll have to continue in another post...

on beauty, brokenness and the responsibility of the western world.

2011-07-21T04:51:00.001-04:00

When I was visiting Camille in Cambodia we went to the beach on one of her days off and sat at one of the "beach-side cafes", people-watching. Two little boys came by, no parents in sight. The older one was maybe 6 years old, probably 5, the other perhaps 4. They were having a ball of a time, running around on the beach. A group of men at a nearby seating area vacated their table and the boys quickly grabbed a few leftovers before the food was cleared away. They made a game of jumping off the lounge chairs that were on the beach, from one to the other to the ground. It was lovely to watch them, even all the while stopping myself from jumping up and declaring in a very motherly/nurse-y tone that it was too dangerous and they were going to hurt themselves.
Then one of the boys (to my memory, it was the smaller of the two who seemed to be the leader and led the other one around...) found a discarded, used cigarette on the ground, and produced a lighter from who-knows-where, and after a few tries proceeded to light the cigarette and puff away merrily at it before throwing it away himself and the two ran off for more adventures.
The kid was just reproducing the behaviour of the tourists and backpackers and loungers that he saw all around him, following in the patterns he saw. While for vacationers the party, drinking, smoking, etc., lifestyle might be a break from their usual routine, for the kids of Sihanoukville, it's what they grow up seeing and it becomes their norm.

It makes me wonder what responsibility we in the West have for the influence we have in other cultures, and on these children. It used to be colonialism that was exported. Now it is something arguably more dangerous: commercialism and hedonism, leading from innocence to death... (Yes, let us be dramatic, for it is something dramatic - not perhaps immediately so, for these two kids perhaps, but the social influence as a whole...)

me speaka no english

2011-07-20T04:28:00.001-04:00

love.love.

on love and sacrifice part 2.

2011-07-18T04:34:00.001-04:00

(cont. from part 1)

I think of Theresa because lately I have been pondering on what love is and what sacrifice is. Sometimes we speak of sacrifice. I know for myself that I don't really know what sacrifice is.
I think of a good friend of mine who has spent a year in a country very far away from home, and from comfort and from comfortable, from family and familiar, in order to be where God is calling her and to be a small part of the re-making of a very broken country (my words, not hers). In talking to her, I realize that there has been much sacrifice - the exchange of fellowship with friends and family for a place of isolation, comfort and easy luxury for a place where there aren't hot showers or air conditioning, a western world salary for a much much less extravagant existence, and long hard days loving kids and people who aren't always easy to love.
I admire the boldness of her faith to do something so radical. And yet I also know that in being stripped away of all these things she has been brought to a closer encounter with God and would not trade that for the world.

I speak of my friend because I haven't really ever sacrificed. And I speak of Theresa because I haven't learned to love. But I want to. And I wonder how it would work itself out to live a life of love and "laying down my life" wherever I am and in everything I do, whether in Papua New Guinea, or Australia or Toronto.

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose ~ Jim Elliot

on love and sacrifice.

2011-07-17T04:22:00.001-04:00

Jesus said "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)
I've pondered that for many years now, what it means to "lay done one's life". It's easy to die for a cause - but to live for one, that is hard. and to live to die to myself and lay my life down for others - now that is hard. to die a thousand times to myself. I don't really know what it means or how to live this way, but I've seen it sometimes, lived out in others and it is a crushing, weighty example of love. when I see it I can't help but to know that I want that too.

one of the most vivid examples I encountered a few years ago when in India, where I met a nun in her 70s or 80s named Theresa. I may have written about her before, maybe not... she spent her whole life taking care of abandoned babies that people would leave on the church's doorstep. sometimes the babies were sick, maybe HIV+, or maybe the mother was sick or had died? Sometimes families were too poor to take care of another mouth to feed, and in a land of 1billion people, there isn't much value for life.
Theresa had about (if I remember correctly) 80 babies that she and the other nuns would care for and try to find homes for. We walked through the orphanage and saw row on row of cots. She took us to her office where the walls were plastered with letters and postcards and photographs of "her kids" and their new families, the ones who had been adopted to a new life. She still carried them all in her heart.
Theresa spent her life to give dignity to her children, the least of society, abandoned and forgotten and unable to do anything for themselves. Looking at her life, I can see, that is love - that is what it means to lay down one's life.

And immediately I am confronted with a hundred objections: how could I possibly live like that? What about my dreams, my ambitions, my comforts? More, how does she love like that, and keep loving without her heart breaking? I can barely look at the world without turning away from the pain and hurt and suffering because it overwhelms me. This woman stares at cruelty and pain and suffering of the innocent everyday and does not turn away but meets it with love and with hope.
That is shattering.
That is love.

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. (John 13:34-35)

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. (Ezekiel 36:26)

how amazing is this?

2011-07-12T02:28:00.002-04:00

the melbourne shuffle.
this has now been added to my B30.

B30

2011-07-10T02:30:00.003-04:00

i was talking to someone a while ago about my b30 list, and just recently i re-read it and realized that i've almost completed everything on there - how far out is that?

2004 b30 list:

• bury time capsule
• prove to oabpl that there really are penguins in Australia (ie by going to australia and showing them penguins) (CHECK --> actually done!)
• the backpacking europe thing (I think backpacking Australia counts for this, so I'm going to go ahead and say CHECK)
• get shrill's tomato soup kiddie book published (even if that means resorting to doing this without her knowledge of it) (still to do... VAL!!!)
• incorporate "garbage" (= cool) into the normal/standard vocabulary of the english-speaking population of this planet (hmmm, maybe not...)
• get over my video game addiction (CHECK)
• get a hobby (a real one, and i don't mean like collecting those plastic circle things on the inside of pop bottle containers, although admittedly that is fun, in that it gives you a sense of accomplishment...) (see hobby-listing, ergo CHECK)
• learn ballroom dancing (...not yet...)
• go to a ball once having learned ballroom dancing (...see above)
• i certainly must have paid back all those student loans (CHECK)
• i suppose that would mean i would need a job (CHECK)
• a good one preferably (CHECK)
• learn to scuba dive for sure (eh, i did snorkeling, i think that counts, so CHECK)
• i also wanna try parasailing and/or hang gliding and/or parachuting (you know what, white-water rafting was just as good, so CHECK)
• going back to india, for sure (CHECK)
• i wanna try eating a smore (CHECK)
• i wanna write something (hmmm, still pending)
• i wanna see the stars on a good night, when it isn't cloudy, somewhere where stars are actually visible... CHECK (woohoo)

cambodia.

2011-07-09T02:42:00.000-04:00

[enter one reluctant absentee blogger, stage left]

2011-07-08T02:22:00.001-04:00

…
dear friends, it's been almost 2 years since i've last posted here. 2 years sounds about right.
the truth is that it's been about that long since i've been in the place where i'm able to write anything at all. the words just did not come. writing has always been one of my favourite things to do, but it has also always been a window into my heart. so when i wasn't able to openly share my heart with people, i was also not able to write.
i've been reading back through some of the things that i'd written, and the theme of 'running away' comes up repeatedly. i suppose that you can say that is what i did - and it is in a way, but it was more than that, or at least has become something so much more than that, and has brought me to a place that i am able to write again. it's wonderful.

this is me trying to unpack the past 2 years for you.

...
let me not make it epic, because it wasn't epic. it was a slow and gradual progression away from the God that I cherish and towards nothing at all. and as I walked away from God, everything else started to fall apart, slowly, as well. work (for many reasons), my involvement in church, community with other people, perseverance in friendships, appreciation of the little things that i usually would love (art, music, etc.).
it became such that i was quite empty, and unable to share with other people, not even how i was doing. and at work, it was a cycle of being drained continually, with nothing to fill me up. i was exhausted constantly, and breaking apart. life became going from work to home, to work again, and nothing more.
finally, i decided that things had to change, and this trip came about.
in some ways it was running away from everything that I'd done wrong, and let fall away at home. but more than that, it was consciously a time that I decided to give to searching after God. people asked me at the start of my trip what my expectations were for the journey - what i sought to get out of it all, and straight up, it was to search for God again.
the thing is, He surprised me - and as soon as I left home, and all the maddness of the-world-I-know behind, He came running to meet me. It was humbling, and wonderful, and overwhelming. And over the past few months of traveling, and being away, He has been with me so closely that many times I have been amazed by it all. and now, I'm in a place where I'm able to write again, and I'm able to seek after people and friendships and relationships that I cherished but could not bear when apart from Him. now, I am again enthralled by art, and by poetry and by music - there is life again after so long - like spring in my heart after a long winter. it has been wonderful.

so I'm not promising anything in terms of continually being able to write, or even there being anything profound or epic, but only saying that I'd like to write again. there are so many things that I've seen and done and learned and sometimes now, words come! who am I to hold them back?

Amos 8: 11-13

“The days are coming,” declares the Sovereign LORD,

“when I will send a famine through the land—

not a famine of food or a thirst for water,

but a famine of hearing the words of the LORD.

People will stagger from sea to sea

and wander from north to east,

searching for the word of the LORD,

but they will not find it.

“In that day

the lovely young women and strong young men

will faint because of thirst."

"Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.
Here's my heart Lord, take and seal it, seal it for thy throne above."
~ (Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing), Robert Robinson

welcome to paradise.

2011-07-06T03:36:00.001-04:00

(Papua New Guinea)

a rant. on worldviews and absolutes.

2009-10-19T02:21:00.005-04:00

i realize that our power to reason and logically think is not perfect. it is incomplete, and more than that, like the rest of our nature, it is fallen. and so i try not to elevate the mind and reason to positions of authority higher than what they should hold. and yet, it frustrates me when people do not logically evaluate or reason through their worldviews, and instead hold contradictory beliefs, not paradoxes, mind you, for those can be welcome, but just unexamined, blind contradictions.
i suppose right now i am considering a particular, quite pervasive view that upsets me greatly, and was one of the main reasons that i hated my last year in school.

in our society it is quite popular to believe that there are no absolutes. nothing is good or bad but we, through thinking, through culture, through receipt of personal injury make it so. everything is relative, situational and culturally dependent.
thus actions, words, etc. that are appropriate in one culture are considered "wrong" in another. therefore any attempt to paint the world with absolutes is simplistic, fallacious, and stems from cultural-centrism (the belief that you and your beliefs and values is right while everyone else [i.e. those from another culture] is wrong). and it's just mean and bad.
(now, i'm not even going to go into the faulty reasoning inherent in the above statement, for example, how can one condemn the action [attempting to apply absolutes] when it was just said that nothing is good or bad but culture makes it so, and thus condemnation is disallowed...?)
what irks me more is that people who hold fast to this claim do not actually live by it except when it is convenient for them.
(and let us take feminism for example because then you will get a taste of my last year of school and why i felt like screaming and tearing out my hair). many decry the evils of a patriarchal society and will tout women's rights and champion them etc. and bring them to cultures to which they are alien, to liberate the women.
why?
why?
if a culture is inherently good and defines its own moral system and values and practices, why do you feel the need to step in and rectify said system and values? what gives you the right to say "women's rights are good" and "oppression is bad" when at the same time you cling to the position that there is no right or wrong?

you can follow this same train of thought to other areas of social activism. if you claim that suffering and oppression are unjust, are you not claiming an absolute? (whether true or not, or how one can know this is for another discussion, but it is a claim at an absolute nevertheless).

believe me, this isn't about me not being a feminist, or thinking that stepping into cultures and situations and saying "oppression is wrong" or "women have rights" is a bad thing. i just wonder with what authority people do such things?
i wish people would follow their chain of thoughts all the way through, right back to the beginning:

so either there is no right or wrong, but only relativism, and i am a hypocrite in decrying wrongs and evil in the world, OR there really are absolutes.
and, i must pick one of these two options, which logic leads back to.
if it is true that there are no absolutes, is that not an absolute? and how can i be absolutely sure?
if there are absolutes, then how do i know what they are? where can i find them? what are they based on? who decides them?

i think that scholasticism would benefit from using reason and thinking things through and opening them up for discussion. encouraging people to ask things of themselves and go places they haven't quite gone before, rather than accepting without questioning because some areas are "sensitive" or "difficult" to delve into.

yes, i am done now.
and i realize that this possibly isn't everyone's experience with their schools of higher learning, it is however one of the negatives i found with mine.

devious pastimes.

2009-10-17T01:51:00.004-04:00

lately, i've taken up the pastime of "art-watching". i go to deviant art and i watch things.
like this.

X by =fogke on deviant ART

what amazes me most is that there are people, doing these things - art, and that's what they DO. there are people who DO this. amazing.

i have this strange and idle and probably terribly selfish dream of being an artist by the ocean.
i suppose that would first require being an artist, wouldn't it?

too bad i'm not working on that, instead of just art-watching.

on running away, in more depth part 2.

2009-10-15T14:39:00.007-04:00

this is a continuation from last time. (i'd actually written it all together with the first part, but it was rather long, so i broke it up. and then i had doubts about posting it, so it was delayed. but here it is).

...so what does this have to do with me and running away?

well, the truth is, i too long for home and a homeland. this world isn't home, and so much of it is all wrong. but it goes deeper than that. it goes deeper than the fact that the world is broken and fallen and imperfect, evidences of which are all over my city. it comes right back to me, and the fact that i am broken and fallen and imperfect, evidences of which are all over my life.

i was interested in fractals a little while ago. and in doing a little bit of reading on them, what they are, how they are defined, i found it interesting to think how life sometimes reflects the characteristics of fractals, and can be compared to them. for example on small scales (micro) the behaviour of atoms is complex and beautiful, and yet you will find complex and beautiful interactions on any scale of the pattern that you choose to look at from micro all the way up to macro.
you can also consider humans and human societies in this way. each human is a complex, broken, fallen entity, and then they combine to form communities and societies and the world, also complex, broken, fallen entities. quite like fractals.

um, yes, so geekiness aside... and back to the previous train of thought...

Abraham and his comrades didn't get to see in full what it was that they hoped and longed for. they just had to live by faith. and like the fractal digression above, it was not just a city that they longed for, but all levels of the pattern (from the micro - that is themselves, to the macro - that is the whole world) to be made right and beautiful.
personally, i find it's not easy when expectations and hopes, the things i long for (perfection, home) are not here and now, things that i can see. living by faith with what is (as a stranger in a strange land) is hard.

and the lie or the delusion is that these ideals are attainable somewhere off in the distance far away. if i run away from here, from all the things and relationships that i do so badly here, if i leave all my failings as well as the failings of the strange land in which i live and start again, somehow they will not follow me and i will be happy. the pattern will be made beautiful.

the man on the t.v. show i wrote about could not stand what he was or who he was so he ran away in hopes of starting again and becoming someone new. thing is, each time he found out he was just the same person as before and he could not stop running away.

the temptation for me is to also run away - physically, emotionally, even spiritually when things get hard and reality does not meet my longings and expectations. the pattern is ugly. it needs fixing and i can't fix it.
instead of running i know the better way is to do as ol' Abraham did, live by faith in things to come:
For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God. Hebrews 11:10

on running away, in more depth, or expectation vs. reality

2009-09-25T14:14:00.008-04:00

sometimes meaning cannot be conveyed by words alone. other times words can be useful but difficult to use, and it is easier to use awkward pauses and silence to convey a message - although i'm beginning to doubt the effectiveness of these, at least in all situations (especially virtually).
anyhow... i thought i'd revisit the theme of running away.
but it is so tangled and convoluted a subject that it may take a while - so bear with me.
actually, this may not make any sense to you or to anyone but me, so this will be me thinking out loud as i find that useful sometimes.

it has to do with expectation and reality. my expectations are had to describe because they are vague and theoretical, and not clearly definable in concrete terms or in words. all i can say is that they are more than what is.

i was reading Hebrews today, and come to think of it, that might actually help:

For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.

Hebrews 11:14-16

the verses before talk about a man named Abraham who with his wife Sarah and their household left their home in Haran and followed God's instruction to go to Canaan, a new, alien land where they lived as strangers and nomads for the rest of their lives.

(By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God. Hebrews 11:8-10)

it goes on to say: These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. Hebrews 11:13

they didn't get what it was that they longed for. a home. a place to belong. a place that was theirs. even though in a way they had these things, it was not fully. they "saw them and greeted them from afar" and that was enough. or rather, Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. Hebrews 11:13 - and that is enough.

so what does this have to do with me and running away?

(stay tuned).

awkward conversation of the day.

2009-09-24T12:44:00.003-04:00

p: you look so beautiful.
me: oh - um, thank you.
p: you remind me of d.
me: who is d.?
p: she married my son. are you married?
me: no.
p: they haven't arranged a marriage for you yet?
me: um, no, we don't do that in my family.
p: some people do it.
me: oh yes
p: d. didn't marry for love.
me: um, what? (thinking in my head: so it was arranged...? how odd! what kind of family does d. have that would arrange a marriage between an indian and a clearly non-indian family?)
p: d. didn't marry for love, she married for money. everyone in her family knows that. my son is very rich.
me: oh - uh, okay...
p: i don't like d., i wish you'd married my son instead.
me: ... well it's too late for that now isn't it...!

hahaha the awkwardness.

awkward conversation of the day.

2009-09-17T12:45:00.003-04:00

me: how was your day today?
p: it was full of hassles.
me: well, they do like to do that to you here, keeps you busy.
p: how are you?
me: oh, me? well, i'm pretty good!
p: and the baby? was it a girl?
me: (on the inside: HAHAHAHAHA) um, actually that wasn't me, you're thinking of someone else, but the baby was a girl!

on running away.

2009-08-27T12:48:00.002-04:00

i watch way too much t.v. especially when i start relating real life to episodes of television. clearly.
anyhow, here goes...
so there was this episode of... i can never get the name. something like "missing" or "lost" or "finding people" - anyhow, the premise of the show is people get lost/disappear and these FBIers have to find them.
so this one episode was about a man who goes missing, but it turns out he is not who he seems and he has a series of aliases that he pretended to be and every so often keeps changing.
anyhow, it comes out that the reason he does this is an attempt to wipe clean the slate of his life each time and run away. start over. it never worked, of course, but it was his preferred means of coping.
all that to say that sometimes - a lot lately - i want to run away.
sometimes running away is so much easier than standing and fighting.

little treasures.

2009-08-25T12:26:00.003-04:00

physics is one of my favourite things. (*gasp* surprise! you're all shocked i'm sure). it causes the nerd in me such joy.
so when i meet someone who is also enchanted by physics i want to embrace them.
that is why i was flabergasted when i saw this:

you probably can't tell what it says. distance = velocity x time.
crazy.
who would write something so wonderful into the sidewalk?

i love finding treasures - and Toronto is so full of treasures.
yay! here is to exploring!

sometimes i surprise myself.

2009-08-24T12:11:00.007-04:00

browsing through my old livejournal i found this poem. i never posted it, (i usually never post my poems) but i like it - so here it is.

(january 8, 2008)

some days

some days, i cannot hear your voice,
and i wonder where you are in all of this, what you are doing.
what i would not give to hear the echo of your footsteps
to feel the touch of your hand.
what would i not give?

some days the ground is dry, and cracked and bleeding
waiting for you to come fill it up.
some days the memory of your rain is so distant
like a song that was heard in a dream
long ago and far away.

some days i can see your pillar of cloud
guiding the way.
and though i know not the intricacies of this path
there is peace and comfort in walking it with you.
even in the desert, - lo! pools of water.
even midst the raging sea, - calm.

why i'm an anarchist. theoretically.

2009-08-23T16:42:00.003-04:00

something i've found interesting on facebook (haha, yes, there are occasionally interesting things on facebook) is that most people feel more inclined to disclose their political leanings or allegiance than their religious beliefs. almost as if supporting a particular political philosophy could right the wrongs of the world.
i heard that view expressed a couple weeks back actually - that it is the flaws and failures in society that result in horrible tragedies like the seemingly random murder of children. (well, i suppose 'child' as the discussion focused on one child in particular)
i disagree.
i think it's funny and convenient how we so easily forget who it is that creates society.

it is for this reason that i disclose my own political leanings: theoretical anarchy. and not for the reason that you may think (or, you may know me and the way my mind works and be able to guess why i theoretically prefer this state).
i think people should be freed from the confines of societal norms and laws to rule and govern themselves as each sees fit. then, i suppose, we'll see (or rather, more clearly see) what is really in a man (and by 'man' i'm being my non-politically-correct self and using the word to include all of humankind).
i don't think it will be much of a surprise when it does come out - we've already seen it in those instances when society has broken down and we hear horrific tales ("how could things come to that! *gasp* the horror"). as you can tell i do not imagine the result to be pretty or comfortable.

i suppose that i theoretically prefer this political state because it more easily shows the depravity of our natures, and there is no ridiculous structure to hide behind into fooling ourselves into the notion that "i'm a good person". it would also put an end to the ill-thought-out position that "people aren't bad, society is bad and creates bad people".

of course it's only theoretically that i lean this way politically, because chaos isn't very nice to live in.

p.s. i found this amusing. you may also.

on Fred and life and masterful skill or celebrating genius 3.

2009-08-22T16:13:00.003-04:00

what i love about Fred Astaire's dancing is that even though it was so amazingly good and skilled, still he managed to make it look so easy - as if it wasn't practiced or choreographed but just an expression of his heart - and all the while doing it he was having an amazingly wonderful time.
on all the dance shows i've seen in recent years, i haven't seen anyone that quite matches Fred. (he would deserve the title of genius as i was bestowing before).

but i suppose if i were a dancer, i would be terribly frustrated by his dancing. how can something so complicated, that takes so much discipline and training and skill look so incredibly simple? that is how it should look i suppose, and how all masters of their art work.

i do know that it is frustrating for me when the art is not dance but life. some people make life look so freakin' easy.

i heart herptiles.

2009-08-22T00:17:00.002-04:00

um, as long as they are caged and far away from me.

do you know what's cool? having friends that go to places like this for fun:

closet purging.

2009-08-20T23:50:00.001-04:00

i never really considered myself to be a pack rat. but i suppose reality seems to declare otherwise. which is perhaps ironic since i love simplicity and clutter tends to paralyze my mind. anyhow, thanks to the help of a good friend my closet is now much emptier than it once was.

below is the pile of clothes that went to goodwill. yikes.

"you're very..." (wonderful, glorious, magnificent, punctual!) "punctual!" "...punctual?"

2009-08-19T23:13:00.011-04:00

i know that i often lament the depravity of the human condition, if not so much here then at least in my head. but there are good stories too. here's a good story.

i have in the last few years formed a bad habit of being late for everything (well, everything except for work). in undergrad my classes usually started at 10am, so i would always get to school an hour early and then i would hand write out the notes for the days lectures to prepare for class. yikes! what a keener i was.
and then nursing came. and they made us start at a terribly unreasonable hour, i suppose perhaps in an effort to get us used to the terribly unreasonable times that nursing work usually starts. anyhow, in protest to this, i got into the practice of arriving 10 minutes late for class. and this somehow carried through to everything else in life.
so, (i suppose this was a couple months ago now), i was headed off to my main means of transportation, late, as usual, and as i approached the street i saw my bus leave. not quite unusual. then i saw a second bus, same route, also leave. alas.
i finally made it to the bus stop, and lo! a bus sat there waiting, just about to leave! ...and just as i approached it put up the "out-of-service" sign. my face fell. or at least, i am told that my face fell. this particular bus route would mean waiting another 20 minutes, maybe longer for another bus to come my way. alas. and i was already late.
but, just as i had lost hope, the driver opened up his door, asked me where i was headed off to, told me that he was going in the same direction, and because i looked so sad he would take me on the bus. he then proceeded to drive me (the only passenger on the bus) to the place that i was off to, (express!), while relating to me stories of how a friend had helped him deal with his own punctuality issues.

ha
ha
ha
i was laughing the whole time in my head.

and, thanks to that bus driver i even arrived on time!! which is quite a feat for me.

anyhow, since then i've been much better at being on time for things. mostly...

brilliant.

2009-08-17T15:12:00.005-04:00

guess who found out how to upload her digital camera pictures. very nice.

this is the summer sunrise from my window.

back.

2009-08-02T22:26:00.005-04:00

so, it's been two months, and it would seem that my creative juices are indeed flowing again - or at least the ones that compel me to write, and so i shall write again. (indeed, i've been writing blog posts in my head for the past couple of weeks, and it's starting to get annoying hearing them over and over as the editing process is much more complicated in my head than on a computer, and they are forgotten as quickly as they were made up).

i suppose i can begin with what i've been up to during these months of absence:

well, i've taken to poetry. reading it mostly. lately, it has felt to me that anything that needs to be said should be said in a song or a poem, otherwise it is hardly able to say anything at all. i've been reading the Psalms lately. what's cool is that the church i've started going to is also doing a summer series on the Psalms. i've tried my hand at writing poetry, but it hasn't gotten very far.

i've taken to music also. i've begun a relationship with my guitar, which to my surprise has even lasted longer than a couple of weeks. a while ago as i was day dreaming about the future my guitar even cropped up into the equation, which was a pleasant surprise. i don't know how long it will last, so i'm not banking on it, but summer flings can be nice.

i've bought a new cd. actually, it's not that new, as i've had it for 2 months now, and i know that's not very newsworthy for most people, but i only buy cds every 6 months or so and so when i do it is exciting. not to mention that i love it and i've probably played this one a few hundred times since i got it, and it has both music and poetry which i am in love with right now.

i've also purchased a new digicam, which some of you have seen in action, but has yet to be brought out into full force. expect pictures!

anyhow, during my blogging vacation i've discovered some things; decided some things; resolved against other things; been to a wedding; realized what vacations are for; had it hit me that i'm working full-time; wanted to run away and have not. all in all, it's been a quiet, tumultous 2 months.

the urge to purge.

2009-06-05T23:02:00.004-04:00

every now and then i get this overwhelming desire to purge everything and start again.
tabla rasa and all that jazz.
unfortunately destroying everything barely ever works (nor do i particularly like the tabla rasa epistemological thesis).

but still, this urge to get rid of everything is persistent. it arises whenever reality does not meet the standards of perfection that i have whimsically drawn up in my mind and my frustration mounts to the point that the thought of redemption is impossible and instead destruction must ensue.

i've had this from a very young age. my first remembrance of it is from when i was around 7 and my sticker collection was the victim of my irrational wrath (much to the delight and benefit of my little brother who salvaged what he could from my discarded collection and added it to his own - which still remains, funnily enough).

the web makes purging so easy. one little click and everything is gone, as if it had never been. no messy clean-up to back me into second thoughts.
there are second thoughts however, afterwards, for despite their imperfections these things that i destroy represent a part of me. and i like looking back and thinking, which is hard when everything is gone.

this all to say that i'm taking a vacation from blogging. and from reading also. it's an effort to quell the urge to delete everything on this page - at least until the creative juices start flowing again.

au revoir.

'G' is for Ghosh

2009-05-25T22:04:00.003-04:00

'G' is for Ghosh, Amitav
Title: The Hungry Tide
Year: 2004

my reading of books has been very skewed. i have not read many authors who are not british. and i have read very few who are indian (although granted, this one can hardly be called indian). but of those indian authors that i have read, it has been a pleasure to see the way that they use the english language. they use it precisely and flavourfully, as if it were an exotic, delicate creature.

this book is very slow in building. despite it being well written i was tempted to give it up half-way through for the slowness of the plot. i'm glad i didn't. the interest isn't really in the plot - it's more in the construct of the book. although prose and descriptive, much of it is poetic. in a way it oscillates between the two. the book is about 'the tide country' of india, and from what i can tell, the way that Ghosh puts the book together is a reflection of that. it goes back and forth, back and forth between the different story lines, like the tides flowing in and out. although at times it only served to make me nauseaus (given, i was reading much of it on the bus rides to and from work) i thought the construct was terribly interesting.

the end was sad. not like the deep aching sad after Tolkien's Lord of the Rings saga, but more like, "oh, that was sad". but i do recommend it still.

wavering.

2009-05-20T15:55:00.002-04:00

of late
the silence has been too much to take
and standing still is killing me.

putting off
the living of life
because bearing up becomes so hard

so the question becomes,
when you can't go back, and you can't stand still
do you go all in?

'F' is for Frank

2009-05-18T22:19:00.002-04:00

'F' is for Frank, Anne
Title: The Diary of a Young Girl
Year: 1952

i did not think that i would be able to get my hands on this book, as the library had several holds on it and it would probably be about a month coming into my way. a series of failures with other 'F' books had me contemplating abandoning this project (again! i suppose i've had that thought recurrently now, and yet what keeps me holding on is 'L' - can't wait for 'L'!). however, thanks to a friend, i was able to read Anne Frank's diary, and i'm glad i did.
an interesting and intimate glimpse into the workings of another being. how very uncensored and close. while reading i was not sure if i should continue at times because i was an intruder, a stranger peering into these most intimate of details that even her own family were not privy to. emotion and inner thoughts that no one else knew of.
she was a good writer.
what a tragedy.

celebrating genius 2:

2009-05-16T15:44:00.002-04:00

i'll be working all weekend. so while you are out in the beautiful weather and surrounded by my favourite season, enjoy some for me too. i'll leave you with this to exalt in.

this is just one of many brilliant paintings of Lawren Harris, one of the Group of Seven.
i went to the AGO a few weeks ago and it was all that i could do to keep myself back from sticking my nose right up to his paintings and getting better look at the brush strokes that he used. his style is so brilliant, so simple. and yet at the same time it says so much. i love it. if i could choose to have a style in my own art it would be something like this.

on genius 2.

2009-05-15T01:32:00.002-04:00

i came across another definition of genius. stumbled across and pieced together is probably more accurate.
i heard a sermon on work (as in job/occupation etc.) a little while ago where work was described as an area to experience the pleasure of God - (not just a thing to get done as a necessity (a necessary evil, as such) or a pause button on the world until we can get back to the better things - but) another area of life in which we get to worship God.
the pastor mentioned a line from the movie Chariots of Fire, where Eric Lidell says something along the lines of:
"I believe God made me for a purpose,
but he also made me fast,
and when I run I feel God's pleasure."

(actually, that is what he said. i googled it. so google should know.)

and that's what it is - what i was trying to describe before and trying to celebrate. genius is things that are done well and are exceedingly beautiful.
at it's highest and best, an act of worship, exceedingly beautiful, and pleasing to God.
now i know that many times these things that are well done are not done as worship to God - and i don't mean at all to go the way of 'rob bell' so i will try to put this delicately - but sometimes it is lovely to celebrate beautiful things for what they are. i think that they spur us on to higher pursuits, and in wonderful cases create in us a deep desire and longing for eternity.

it is easier for me to recognize genius in certain areas rather than others - mostly in art - but that's what it is.

on weeds.

2009-05-14T00:52:00.008-04:00

i was gardening the other day.
actually, i was dragged out of the house against my will and forced to weed the other day.
my philosophy is that things should be natural. if they are going to grow, let them grow.* but my parents don't seem to agree with me, so out to the garden to weed...

*(actually, my philosophy is "Things should be useful or they should DIE". i caught myself - or rather a friend caught me - saying this a little while ago - but that's actually another story, and another post altogether. anyhow...)

the front yard wasn't so bad. we have this nifty weeding machine. i felt a bit like a soldier with it in my hands and my vest on, looking so cool. scan the grass for a weed - spotted! got it in my sights, aim, fire! got it! discard. reload. repeat.

the backyard, however was a different story. it's probably safe to say that it was more weed than lawn. and in the backyard the roots go deep, so even with the machine, more than nine times out of ten most of the roots were missed and only surface-weed was collected. i would tear at the top and get a handful of leaves and flowers and grass. really digging in this time, i'd tear again. more leaves, but look, there's the stem leading to the root. so i'd grab hold and throw my whole body into it and then - snap - a small piece of the stem had come off in my hands and the rest was too deep to reach, but still intact and just waiting to grow back.

after a while, even with my obsessive compulsive personality (or perhaps because of it) i started getting frustrated. i would work on one patch at a time and then move to the next. but looking around nothing was changing and looking back at the ground i'd covered there were lots of weeds that had been missed - it looked just as weedy as before!
furthermore, because the roots weren't coming out, i worked with the knowledge that in 2 weeks or so they'd be back. so all this effort for what? simply 'keeping up appearances'?

all this to say, it got me thinking. and no, not very originally, or creatively, and yes, perhaps rather cliche-edly. but what can i say? i was busy weeding.
anyhow...
i was thinking about how i've been doing some weeding in my own life - especially these past 2 weeks, and i've come to the realization (or re-realization) that the weeds in my life go deep - much deeper than i had known before.
deep. deep. deep.
and below the surface level weeds runs a root of pride so deeply entrenched in my heart that it IS my heart.

plucking out surface weeds, at times feels like an exercise in futility, tempting me to quit - give up in frustration, let them grow wild and forget about trying to tame this mess. surveying the extent of the problem tempts me to give way to despair.

i've come to the re-realization that if any of this is going to be fruitful labour, something drastic needs to be done to get at those roots. none of this 'keeping up appearances' nonsense.

well, it's a good thing my Jesus is a really good gardener. (Genesis 2:8)

just to let you down gently.

2009-05-11T23:26:00.003-04:00

today is monday and thus it is time for another book review.
but alas, i haven't written one so you'll have to wait till next week.

so disappointed, i know.

on endless monologues.

2009-05-09T00:33:00.005-04:00

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblabhalbhalbhalbhalbhalbhalblahblabhal
bhablahblabhalbhalbhablahblabhalbhalbhablhablhablhblhalbhalbhalbhblahblhablha
blhbalhbalhbalhbalhbalhbalbhalbhalbhlabhalbhalbhalbhalbhalbhalbhalhblahbalbhal
bhlabhalbhladkbhladbhladhgadlfaldrfua;ofh

and on and on it goes.
when will it stop? nobody knows.

do you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?

i am SO tired of hearing my own voice.

on poetry again.

2009-05-06T12:53:00.002-04:00

like poets without words
we sit
and drink deeply of the stillness
of the vastness and the beauty all around
in hopes of being filled with something other than ourselves
in hopes of pouring out somewhen
that which we are not yet.

on artforms.

2009-05-05T12:55:00.002-04:00

i hate to read what i write. i cannot bear it and so mostly i do not. i don't want to hear the critical voices in my head or see the fickleness and frivolity or worse, the pretentiousness of my words. but more... i think because when i write it is a part of me on paper - my heart opened just a tiny bit so that knowing eyes can easily peer beyond words to see what is really there; and the truth is i don't always want to know what is there.
so, often i do not come back to these or other things i write until they are but a distant memory and i cannot even recall writing those words or having those thoughts. i can appreciate them as a distant observer and not one intimately involved.

it is different with my art thought. a different language perhaps, but it is one that i enjoy reading and even surrounding myself with.
i don't know why.

'E' is for Eugenides

2009-05-04T10:15:00.004-04:00

'E' is for Eugenides, Jeffrey
Title: The Virgin Suicides
Year: 1993

this was the first book that broke the cycle of the others. all the previous books were by dead british authors that i had read before or been recommended. this one didn't fit any of that criteria. alas - maybe i should have just stuck to my pattern.

do yourself a favour and don't bother with this one. it's not intriguing, savory, nor does it give any answers and its attempt at meaning is shallow and boring. maybe i'm being harsh - but i don't think so. this made me reconsider the whole alphabetical reading thing. a few more of these and i'll abandon it altogether. just because a book was written doesn't make it worthy to be read. and i'm also sure that not every book can be everyone's cup of tea.

celebrating genius 1: see you space cowboy

2009-05-02T12:12:00.003-04:00

i will start with this, not because it ranks higher or because you will agree with it but because it gives me pleasure to start with. so i will.

cowboy bebop.
now, i know from the name, it sounds like all manner of ridiculousness (that's what i thought too at first), but really, it is a brilliantly done anime, the best that i have ever seen.
i secretly watch anime. but despite this, most i have found are awful, unoriginal, lame and boring - as most tv shows are i suppose. cowboy bebop is different.

there are plenty of fan sites, i am sure, and plenty of summaries better than i could summarize, and if you know me, you'd know that i don't do either well nor do i aspire to. no. in fact, i'm somewhat disappointed in how well-known this show is. but i suppose popularity can't be an exclusion factor in searching out genius. it just means that i'm late... as usual.
what i will say is that the show is like a very elaborate well planned out and executed dance that draws you in slowly and then keeps you. it is imaginative, has an overarching storyline, while each episode has its own independent story that somehow ties together. there is a good mix of comedy, action, and commentary on human character/the human condition. the artwork is lovely, it is futuristic while recalling the styles of the '70s and '80s, (which i LOVE), and the music is original, catchy, and really good. and of course, it knows when to end.
(one negative for me would the lack of impressive female characters, which is so common in anime and shows in general)

in writing this i have wavered between whether i think this to be genius, or merely personal preference (maybe i'm just a fan). but i concluded that i'm not truly a fan. i would not watch it again necessarily, but will concede that it was masterfully done.
and yes, highly recommend.

on genius.

2009-05-01T21:38:00.002-04:00

all too often we use words, (or overuse words) in a way that lessens them and robs them of their meaning. we use these big words for little things so that words that are grand and carry with them much force are degraded, and made cheap.
for example, "awesome". now personally, i love the ninja turtles, but seriously, this very solemn, meaning-packed, intense word is made much less of when you use it to announce that your pizza has arrived, no matter how good that pizza does smell.
others (which i am also guilty of overusing) include absolutely, extremely, and huge.

another, although not entirely of the same kin, (as these others all seem to be adjectives, and yet i'm quite sure that this is a noun) is genius.

we hear it and use it all the time. genius. and yet there are not many things that can truly be called genius.

i tried to come up with my own definition:
something brilliant and original that manages to supersede the confines of the culture/time in which it was birthed.
anyhow, i suppose it's a working definition.

i suppose also the things that i define as genius are not necessarily those that you would agree with, and yet what fun to celebrate them!
and so, my newest hobby will be an exploration and celebration of genius.
yay!

on poetry.

2009-04-30T12:16:00.002-04:00

most like poems best,
short and sweet: in small doses.
i know hai-ku - don't you?

me, myself and i.

2009-04-29T21:58:00.002-04:00

i had a meeting with my accountant a while ago (yes, i have an accountant. isn't that crazy, and completely uncharacteristic of me, and terribly strange? but entirely besides the point) in which he asked me a very awkward and uncomfortable question: who is the most important person in your life?

i knew at once the answer, which was also the answer he wanted me to give, but not the one i wanted to give or verbalize and through doing so, as it were, make real: i am.

i am the most important person in my life.
good grief.
that statement is like being doused in cold water. extremely convicting, (although he did not intend it to be so).

it makes me re-realize how deep my selfishness goes, that it is not a mere surface problem but goes much much deeper than that.

Since we believe that Christ died for all, we also believe that we have all died to our old life. He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them
2 Corinthians 5:14-15

early mornings.

2009-04-28T02:03:00.006-04:00

although the early hours at which i start work are horrendous oftentimes, and it takes much effort to drag myself out of bed every day - deep down, scarcely even admitting it to myself, i think i like it. there is something lovely about leaving one's house to be greeted by the start of the sunrise and empty streets of sleeping houses, and birds chirping drowning out the sound of the traffic. watching the sky change colours and the silver moon fade away makes you step outside yourself. it doesn't get old or any less beautiful.

it is in a way exciting to know this morning sunrise is a secret one shares with only a few others - a beauty that most never see.

(it's also really nice to be able to talk out loud all alone or sing, and not have people think i'm crazy because there's no one around to hear) (not that i do those things)

'D' is for Doyle

2009-04-27T09:56:00.004-04:00

'D' is for Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan
Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Year: 1892

Doyle is a weirdo. and not the kind that makes me want to call out "hey! friend!" but another kind entirely. he is, however, also a very good writer. and i liked the stories in this book, they were light and entertaining. this was my first Sherlock Holmes book. who'd of thought that two collections of detective stories would follow one after the other? and yet it worked.

i wont spoil the stories; they were quite smart. but one thing that amused me greatly: Sherlock Holmes is a druggie. he injects cocaine, apparently. after learning this i was able to like him more - it makes him more human, more flawed and as crazy as the rest of us. without it he would be an egotistical, analytical, aloof, emotionally distant, know-it-all. but no, he's a druggie too.

on vacations again.

2009-04-26T21:19:00.006-04:00

it's hard to say in a way, especially to discuss with people who have been working for a longer time than i, and maybe i am just foolish and idealistic - but in talking with friends who also think akin to me, i realize that i am not the only one who has these thoughts.

the thing is, work is awfully repetitive and monotonous. it is not that what i do is not important. or that i don't like my work or working in general. but indeed, it gets monotonous. and it is scary to think "this is my life". in big bold letters: THIS IS MY LIFE. as a student i never had to face this - because life was always something that was coming, it was on its way, nearly there but not quite here yet. but now it is here, and as... ... ... i think i've written about this before...
but relating it to vacations: i do not want to work to get money so i can afford to get away from life and relax so i have enough energy to come back and work to get money... and then the whole cycle repeats.

i don't jive with that philosophically or idealistically.
i want to live for now, to have purpose in life now. to be happy in where i am at.

i talked about it with my mom and she said something wise: if we were happy and satisfied where we are at now, then it would mean that this is where we belong - this is home and happiness lies here. but the thing is, it doesn't.

He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.
~ Solomon, Ecclesiastes 3:11

and so we search, for meaning and purpose and move from one thing to the next, even as Solomon did. but maybe...
"if i find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that i was made for another world."
~C.S.Lewis

thoughts while in transit.

2009-04-25T01:57:00.005-04:00

it is strange when others talk of taking a vacation or going on vacation. it's not that i've never been on one, for i have, but more that i am not used to the concept.

for me, work was what you did in between times of school (for example during summer vacation). i was talking with a friend and we concluded that subconsciously, i'm still waiting for school to start - and treating this job as if it is my vacation.
yikes.

i wonder what happens when my brain finally realizes that it isn't going back to school in the fall.

in other news, the grass was very green today, and the sky very beautiful.

...the eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
Ecclesiastes 1:8

p.s. i realize that that last quote was totally out of context - i don't usually do that, but it fit so nicely, and (this is my justification for its usage) if you were to read the whole of Ecclesiastes and put the quote in the context of the whole book then i think it actually does fit.

'C' is for Chesterton

2009-04-20T21:32:00.003-04:00

'C' is for Chesterton, Gilbert Keith
Title: The Man Who Knew Too Much
Year: 1922

that was the only one of his books i could find at the little library. I knew as soon as i started this idea of alphabetical reading that 'C' would belong to G.K.

The Man Who Knew Too Much is a book of detective stories of sorts, but slightly bizarre. I love how everything of Chesterton's (at least what i've read so far) is bizarre. It makes me want to say to him, "Hey! Friend!"
The stories are in themselves amusing. But the book is very political in nature and speaks about corruption and greed and power and some things that i did not quite get. I think they were lost in the gap between the culture and politics of his day and place and mine.

What I did find particularly interesting was the author's patriotism. It wasn't your typical American patriotism (and not just mostly because he wasn't America) - but a kind that could see the folly of his country's pursuits and leaders and the corruption in politics and government and man, and despite all of this still love his country. I appreciate that. It's something like what I feel for my city - it's far from being perfect, it's far from being what it should be, and yet, even with it's flaws I love it and I'm so glad I live in Toronto. (Or... almost live in Toronto, if we need to get technical).

I was asked a while ago whether I would fight for my country (to defend and protect it). The answer is (and was) yes. I do not know that I would be able to fight, either mentally or physically - I'd probably have a complete mental breakdown and go insane - but still i do believe that there are some things worth fighting for.

!&@#$%$^

2009-04-16T17:25:00.002-04:00

do you know what i find amusing? well, sort of amusing in a way...

as part of my job i regularly get curse at by little old grandmas.

you quickly learn to expect it and even to let it slide, but still, i cannot help but wonder if one day i will be one of these little old ladies who lies on her hospital bed and curses at everyone who passes by.
or... will i instead be a blessing? and... if or when i get to that stage, will it be a choice that i am able to make, or one that i am making now - or perhaps it will be out of my hands completely...?

getting old is not pretty friends. or rather, it often is not pretty. i am not at all entirely convinced that it always is not pretty. just has great potential to not be.

fire.

2009-04-15T22:21:00.002-04:00

sometimes, (not now particularly), i feel like i am fine. sometimes everything feels fine and moreover i feel like i am progressing and things be looking up. led into a false sense of security about my condition.

but as sometimes tends to occur (of late, particularly), there is a rediscovery that i'm not fine, and things are not fine and everything cannot continue on this way.

it's frustrating, rediscovering that i'm not alright. being reminded that there is so much more left to change and be refined. especially when it all comes out at once, and it kinda makes you wonder where the gold ever got to because it doesn't seem that there be any.

but... you know what's cool?

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
Isaiah 43:1-3

eating a transformed lunch.

2009-04-14T21:10:00.002-04:00

i've discovered the real secret ingredient that will make any sandwich exciting - (and it's not miracle whip). actually, it's horseradish paste.
mmm... so delicious, yup! i love things that set your mouth on fire and reind you that you are alive.
i guess that the old saying really rings true - if it doesn't make you cry it's not a real sandwich... just kidding, i just made that up - the saying that is, not the incredibly amazing secret ingredient.

and you know what is also amazing? even after telling you all this, it will still remain a secret ingredient because you wont believe me, and will live out your little life unchanged and untouched by the fact that this discovery can transform lunch as you know it.

it's crazy how some things always will be a secret, no matter who or how many you tell.

transformed eyes.

2009-04-13T22:33:00.006-04:00

it's spring, finally.
and despite occasional bouts of snow, spring is here!
hurrah!!!

i always find spring such a good reminder after winter. it's like having new eyes. and the things that always were right there, you are able to see again, but really see them now.

the other night i was on my way home from a long day shift. the days are longer now and the sky is brighter later, so that it's no longer pitch dark when i leave for work and when i come home. the sun had already set as i was waiting for my second bus and the sky was slowly shifting to darkness. but there was a shade of blue in the sky that was so beautiful, i don't believe i've ever seen it before. it was deep and bright at the same time. it was amazing to think that of all the people driving by in their cars underneath that sky who would never see it. and yet it's right there.

The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.
Psalm 19:1-4

happy easter sunday, or as i like to call it happy Resurrection Sunday!!!

2009-04-12T09:30:00.003-04:00

of late, if you ask me what i have been up to, the answer would be working.
working.
warking.
walking.
anything else? sleeping and working.
it's not even that it has been overly much, it's just that there has not been much of anything else. i have become keenly aware how easily this life can slip into a rut. even moreso in this season of adulthood and working a job than in any other season of my life. it is so easy to move into 'just cruising' mode, as a friend put it. living from day to day, waking and sleeping in the (not so regular) pattern that work requires, moving from one day to the next without even realizing it until weeks, even months slip by and you've no idea where it has all gone or what it is you have been living for. i guess this is part of what has been getting me down recently. i've slipped into rut-mode and i feel adrift from my purpose - drifting about aimlessly - without aim or intent, just going.
but it's like the lyrics in that Switchfoot song:
I want more than fine, more than bent on getting by... more than okay.

It's easy to fill up your day with activities. it's harder to fill it up with meaning. and i don't just mean a cause or an activity or a series of events. i mean a life that is coherently directed toward some chief aim.
purposelessness scares me - more than most things actually. i don't want to get through this life and find that i never really lived, that there was no point to me. i don't get that (my purpose that is) from my work. it's good work, don't get me wrong, but it's not reason for living. i don't get it from my extracurriculars (or lack thereof in my case), not in socializing (or, harhar, lack thereof in my case), not from volunteering, not from studying, not from reading, or from my art. and worst of all, please do not tell me that the meaning of life is to discover its meaning. that is circular, illogical and empty. mostly empty.

the Westminster Shorter Catechism says that "man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever".
my fried John Piper puts it this way, "man's chief end is to glorify God by enjoying Him for ever."
enjoying Him.
joy.
now that's what i'm after.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,
looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you man not grow weary or fainthearted.
Hebrews 12:1-3

'B' is for Bunyan

2009-04-11T21:16:00.006-04:00

I've finished up till 'E' actually. Who would have thought that it would have lasted this long? What is funny though is that 'E' and 'F' have made me rethink this whole random hobby idea of mine. 'E' was pretty awful. I read the book quickly just to get through it. And 'F'? Well the book that i originally picked out was so awful i only read the first page, and the second 'F' book i chose wasn't much better, and so i am 'F-less' for now. however i'll carry on for now at least...

'B' is for Bunyan, John
Title: Pilgrim's Progress
Year: 1678

Pilgrim's Progress is my favourite of the books that i've read so far. (You know what's funny, and i just realized? that when i write about books i compulsively need to use better grammar and spelling, hence the capital letters - bwahaha - anyhooo....). The book is also mostly the reason I wrote before about how some things never change. It could have been a story about me.

I'd always meant to read it, after reading about it in 'Little Women' so very long ago, and just recently a friend mentioned and recommended it to me, and then, to my surprise, there on the 'B' shelf it was! Pilgrim's Progress was a huge change from Emma and a lot heavier, so the reading was slow with a lot to digest. I think it took me three weeks, and even with that I only went through book 1.

It's a story about a man on a journey, well really it's a story about what it's like to be a Christian in the form of an allegory or metaphor. The pilgrim journeys from the City of Destruction to the City of the King in the Promised Land and has adventures along the way. What i liked best about it was that my mind works in such a way that I often think of the things of life as pictures or as a story. Metaphors, mmm. Apparently so does Mr. Bunyan. This book offered me lots more pictures to think on and work with. I found it encouraging.

What frustrated me about it, although not really a fault of the book, was the rapidity with which each situation was faced and endured. The pilgrim would meet some trouble on his journey and in a few pages it was over, whereas in life it would translate into a battle lasting years or a whole lifetime event. But then, I suppose you can't have a book that goes as slowly (or quickly) as life does. That would be silly. I guess that's what the stories in my head are for.

sunshine and lollipops. or not.

2009-04-10T17:07:00.006-04:00

i've been meaning to blog. not only that, i've written several times, mostly on scraps of paper and in my make-do journal (i am currently in-between journals, which is, in itself sad). it's just i haven't had the gumption to actually post anything.

you see, i've been sad of late.

sad is such a sissy word. it doesn't say much. but words that are more descriptive, that do say a lot more, are very revealing, and transparency is hard. still hard.

i wanted to be able to say that i am happy now and everything is sunshine and lollipops and thus i have returned to writing. but alas, i cannot say that yet. not yet. moreover, i think it's a lame excuse, to not be able to write under any other condition but 'happy'. how very limited the experiences and thoughts i will be able to share if such is the case.
i did not want this to be an outlet to complain or ... i can't think of the word, or even if such a word exists - but it means to be down on and disdainful of everything. (anyhow, i suppose that you get the idea). the thing is, i don't think avoiding a thing in fear that it should become something ugly is a valid train of thought. neither does it achieve very much.
so here we go again, another exercise in perseverance.

book review

2009-02-25T22:59:00.007-05:00

so, my latest "hobby"is reading alphabetically.
let me explain.

i recently got a library card for Toronto, as only recently i qualified to be able to get a library card for Toronto.
the day i got it i was so excited. but, it was strange. I stood in the little library that would (will) eventually become my own, walking up and down the aisles, reading the titles of the books and smelling that wonderful book smell. and yet i left that day without checking anything out. nothing at all.

it has been so long since i have last read regularly and consistently and voraciously, and since then my tastes have changed so much, that i just had no desire to read anything at all. and so, disappointed, i thought perhaps that i was destined to become one of those folks who doesn't read at all and gets all their great literary references from t.v. episodes like wishbone and the simpsons.

so, to change that, i decided to start reading alphabetically. (i don't really anticipate this to last past 'C' but hey, it's a start).
i started with 'A' went to the 'A' section and picked out the most interesting read from that section, according to me. and, for my amusement, and no other purpose, as i don't anticipate anyone else caring a hoot about the books i'm reading or ever considering picking up said books on account of me, here is a book review.

As it turned out, 'A' was for Austen, Jane
Title: Emma
Year: 1815

Summary:
Austen is the classic chick lit author of yore. she pretty much defines the whole thing. and if you want the same old story of boy meets girl, or some derivative of, filled with sap, this is for you. (personally, i love sap - in small, teeny-weeny doses though, and so this dose should last for a whole long while). the book isn't quite like pride and prejudice in that the characters aren't all perfect and airy fairy. they are actually quite dramatically flawed, which, i suppose adds character and "realism"; however, as in the other book, it ends (spoiler warning!) happily ever after. just the way all chick lit is supposed to.

that ends my summary.

what i find more interesting is the societal commentary that the book gives. i really like how books written by people in the past can shed a lot of insight into the ideas, ideals and prejudices of that time period. it's fascinating. in reading a book one is able to (indeed, not at all exhaustively, but at least to some degree) study an era very remote as well as study the character of a person equally remote (the author) through what is held up and put down (or not mentioned) in the book. it's also fascinating to find out how little changes with regards to people.

it was wild and crazy to note how entrenched in the society described were the concepts of classism, based not only on race and money, but on family lineage and what-have-you. it was an unquestioned, unexamined prejudice of the characters of the novel. it just was.

it makes me reflect on our own society - on the unquestioned, unexamined prejudices that we live with. things that just are, that are not usually questioned by us as being right or wrong, but accepted without dissent. crazy.

there is more, of course. but that's all my mind can produce for now. so it will have to do.

25 random things about me?

2009-02-21T00:20:00.001-05:00

1) i think john piper is so cool and biblical exegesis is soooo hot.

2) i love capes, i think they're so comforting. i wear mine around the house all the time. sometimes i spread my cape and jump off the stairs like i'm flying. just kidding.

3) i hate facebook, and i think that lists like this and blogs are narcissistic self-indulgence.

4) i don't generally like capital letters in sentences, and tend to reserve them for special words that deserve them.

5) i hate small talk. i think small talk is part of the curse. in Heaven there will be no small talk.

6) i hate things that are trite. i think small talk is trite. this makes meeting new people rather difficult and awkward.

7) i still don't understand arminianism. my brain cannot seem to fathom it.

8) i don't understand poetry either. i wish i could be a poet. (but funnily enough, i don't wish i could be an arminian - bwahahaha)

9) i secretly watch anime and play video games.

10) i love english. love it. language is so lovely. sometimes i just sit and contemplate the ability to speak and think with words.

11) i love math. math is so amazing. physics is so mind-blowingly amazing. i love math and physics. oh lovely equations, how i miss thee!

12) i love to draw. i love to write. i wish i could write music. sometimes my soul sings but without words or notes. how wonderful it would be to capture that.

13) i think that the working world, at least my current experience of it is very sanctifying. like fire.

14) i have a very short memory. generally, that has been a good thing. however in making this list it has been a bad thing. i've forgotten about it more times than i can remember.

15) it really bothers me that all the points above this one begin with i.

16) i am actually incapable of random thought, and so a list like this is actually misnamed. however, my brain works in such a way that most people, including myself at times cannot fathom its thought processes, and thus random may still be applied.

17) people generally use the same adjectives to describe me. i find that rather disconcerting, although i know not why.

18) my favourite movie is the princess bride, although i don't really know why. except perhaps that it is fantastically cool.

19) my favourite time of the year is those few precious days in the middle of june, when it is still spring but summer is on the verge of becoming and warm sunshine and life are everywhere.

20) i had a backpack named tracker who traveled with me to 4 continents.

21) cookies are my favourite food-group. chocolate chip cookies are dreamy.

22) i thought this note was supposed to have 25 random things, and i got stuck at 21, but then i looked again, and lo! only 16! and thus, i am ending it randomly at 22. haha, whatever folks, take it or leave it.

je m'excuse

2009-02-20T00:25:00.003-05:00

i hate that every time that i leave off from writing here, coming back, it feels like it is an apology. but not an apology for my absence, but rather, as if to say, "sorry dear friends and the internet in general, but i will again subject you to my mindless and not so mindless ramblings".

i miss writing though. so, i will write.

a letter.

2009-01-29T23:02:00.005-05:00

dear world, (hardly dear at all, and ever dearer less, and yet more),

i have not asked you how you are of late, or inquired of the goings on that have occupied you so engagedly while i have been away. i wont either. although you leave your letters for me every morning at my doorstep, i must confess that i do not pay them much heed. your affairs are mostly too much for me, and i cannot bear up under the weight. it goes no different with thee, i suppose, unless, really worse and worse as some seem to ever be saying.

i will not be offended that you do not ask me how i have been. much has happened since we last discoursed - much and yet, perhaps, very little. the truth is i've been hiding from you. it is not easy to know how to live in you and yet not be of you. the pain and the hurt all around make it so much easier to disengage and ignore.

this isn't a promise, or any such absurdity, for as you are well aware, i am a covenant-breaker and my own ambitions never stand long. it is merely a little note to say that i am still here, and although arguably worse for wear, not down for the count.
i think it is fair to warn you that you will not break me. a challenge? you betcha.

yours truly,

a stranger in a strange land.

blame it on the little green men.

2008-11-27T21:08:00.004-05:00

as i was applying for my library card (yay!) today, the librarian who was doing my application (or that is what we will call it, as i do not have a better name for the process) was looking at my birthday date and commented that her daughter has the same birthday, to which i was about to reply, "so she's a leprechaun too, huh?". good thing i caught myself and didn't say anything , recalling that no, not leprechaun but "capricorn" is my astrological sign...

...right.

help, i've fallen and i can't get up!

2008-11-16T18:52:00.001-05:00

when you are good at failing, you best be used to being good at trying again ~ natasha

i like that. i really do because, you see, i've become somewhat exceptional at failing. but the whole being good at trying again bit, that's what gets me. i'm not quite there yet. and it is devastatingly painful - when you aren't good at trying again.

and you know what else? it isn't easy to go for awesome and lovely. not most days.

and carrying on from a previous train of though...

2008-11-15T18:35:00.004-05:00

...apparently it didn't last very long.
harhar.

i told you before that perseverance is rather difficult for me. something that i definitely need working on. sometimes, just starting a thing is not something that i want to be doing because the starting of it deserves some kind of continuation, some kind of ending, and i've never been one to see things through to completion. i hate that.

this while... since coming back from india has been rather difficult. but i have learned something of late. a few things actually. i don't do well with time on my hands. time and myself are just not a good combination. all it seems to do is bring out the worst in me, and i am again made aware of the depravity of my soul. good thing for me i don't actually have much time on my hands anymore. which means (potentially) a reentry into the world of productivity and creativity. (you wouldn't think that it would work that way, would you? but for me, somehow it does).

anyhow, enough of saying things without saying things.

trivial pursuit.

2008-10-17T15:53:00.006-04:00

so, i've taken up a new hobby.
this one i actually really really really like - oil painting.

let me tell you, it is brilliant! the colours do things that you tell them to, things that you could only hope that they would do, and the results? spectacular - even if i do say so myself (and, alas, am the only one who thinks so - still, i very much like my work - and i suppose that's what counts, right?).

the only problem is that it is rather messy, and for me, not being the neatest, most graceful person in the world, this can be rather a problem, as it's not very easy to clean up...

alas, the pains that we will go through for beauty. and diversion. the pains that we will go through and the carpets that we will destroy...

hallo.

2008-10-15T15:53:00.003-04:00

hi.

so i suppose my long absence should deserve some sort of explanation. and it wouldn't really do to appeal to my fickle nature, because that would just be circular reasoning, wouldn't it? and i suppose it wouldn't do to blame it on studying for my crne or other productive pursuits, because honestly, lately, those are few and far between.
it would have to do with not
wanting
to
think
at
all.
and writing what is substanceless and thoughtless isn't really my kettle of fish... usually

and so instead i pursue things that would have me not think and occupy (waste) my pearls with other things rather than with wisdom.

uh-huh. so what else is new?

well... not thinking is boring, and involves a level of half-living which is tasteless and not even a little fun. so here is to thought again.

(let's see how long it lasts).

on extroversion and pride: a prelude (perhaps)

2008-09-22T17:25:00.001-04:00

being human is lonely business. i think it's because everyone is so selfish they only think of themselves. i'm most selfish of all. it's terrible.

i read a novel by G.K. Chesterton a while back (i can't recall for certain which one it was but i'm pretty sure it was The Man Who Was Thursday) where he makes a comment that stuck with me: (hey nice! i found a copy of it online, and it was The Man who was Thursday!)

"...it is always the humble man who talks too much; the proud man watches himself too closely."

fascinating. and accurate, at least in my case. i think i need an exercise in extroversion and humility.

pictures from mah trip

2008-09-19T16:36:00.005-04:00

nurses being trained to run the integrated counseling and testing centres in rural areas.

view from the roof of a small village convent. the nuns run a primary school and farm the plot of land behind it for money. you can see their waterbuffalo and her calf.

in the city's zoopark on a day off. yes, those are white tigers.

at a farm/newly started Care and Support Centre/soon-to-be nursing school the NGO is working on. the crops are grown for both medicinal purposes as well as for profit to help fun the endeavors.

the view from inside a rickshaw.

visiting one of the government hospitals in the city (huge!!!).

visiting a nursing school - this is the practice room.

this is the nursing station/medication room for the HIV/AIDS Care and Support Centre. i can't really post any other pictures from it - confidentiality and all that.

doing some touristy stuff - visiting ancient ruins, climbing on things.

enjoy!

2008-09-18T15:04:00.006-04:00

i was sent this email a while ago, and i thoroughly enjoyed it, and so keeping in line with my whole love of figures of speech, here are some similes and other... figures of speech, courtesy of the web.

Just in case you need some writing inspiration. Every year, English teachers from across the USA can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year's winners:

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up

the world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.

2008-09-16T17:40:00.004-04:00

i really am glad to be back in Toronto. i have missed home. and yet there is something that worries me about being back.

you see, being in India i had the privilege of seeing the world through tourist's eyes. not belonging to a place and having no (or very limited) responsibilities, and being somewhere quite alien puts a sense of wonder and the exotic on everything.
everything is interesting and strange and beautiful. i recall the daily 'parades' of Eluru and realize that i probably did not represent them to you entirely accurately, as even while they stared at us walking by, i also stared - not in the same way, but at the beauty and wonder of this strange new world and its people.
it's sort of like reading the beginning chapters of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (hence the title) - where the ordinariness of life is so magical and surreal that you are filled with continuous wonder - (before the world he paints descends into chaos and ruin).
i would catch myself thinking all the time, i wonder if anyone else realizes how beautiful this moment and everything is. just the way the sunlight falls, the way the ground feels beneath your feet, the buildings greyed with dirt and pollution, the walls covered with moss and creepers, birds calling, traffic blaring continuously, children laughing, and people everywhere, busy, going about the stuff of life.

i know that now i have returned i will soon get caught up in the stuff of life myself, and lose the wonder and appreciation of life and its beauty that i gained while being here.

it's strange how we learn to be in a way that isn't being at all.
eyes that don't see, ears that don't hear.
and i know that soon i will start to take for granted the people that for months i longed to see. we will argue and fight and become bored and exhausted and stressed and disconnect, and want to be away from it all, all the while blinded to the wonder and beauty and love.

on flying.

2008-09-15T17:32:00.003-04:00

i hate flying.
i hate flying.
i hate it so much it had to be said twice. i used to think aeroplanes were wonderful marvelous magical machines - oh naive fool that i was, for in reality they are horrid and evil.
i don't know who came up with the whole aeroplane/airtravel/airport process, but whoever it was is sadistic: combining the experience of being treated like a terrorist, a criminal, an illegal alein, an imposter, and cattle, all into one 33 hour long day. cramming into a shaking aluminum box, sitting still for hours on end, having your seat kicked by whoever happens to be behind you and listening to children shrieking as unconcerned parenets ignore them.
i think being frisked is my least favourite legal activity, and it is made so much worse by being told to have a nice flight directly afterward.

have a nice flight?
yes. i think i will do that.
same to you.

it wasn't that bad, really: there were no kicking/screaming children, the kids that were there were quite good actually; the plane didn't crash; they constantly kept coming around with food; i watched Prince Caspian (and bawled - but it was dark so it was okay) and about 4 other movies aaaannnd,
i'm back.

yay!

on antisocial loner-ism.

2008-09-13T17:32:00.006-04:00

i was talking with a classmate yesterday. she was telling me how she recently asked her friend, working as a nurse if this friend "had any kind of social life?" the answer was quick and short: "not really, no".

a large part of this has to do with my interaction and relationships with other people. now that there are no more regular classes, no more clinical group, no more c4c, my interaction with people has - or has the potential to - be severely diminished.

doing long hours of randomly scheduled shift work, often on weekends, can make it hard to meet up with people. it can also make it really hard to attend or be part of anything on a consistent basis: church, volunteer work, bible studies/fellowship groups.

i wonder how nurses manage to have any kind of a normal life that involves other people.

this is (and will come to be) a problem for me. it has always been so easy for me to retreat into myself and revel in isolation. now, with this added excuse of random scheduling i wonder if i will fall again into the trap of antisocial lonerism - spending most of my time on my own and not seriously or significantly investing into other people or being invested into.

anyhow... this post didn't really have any point to it except to say that i come back to Toronto soon, so if you have nothing better to do and want to hang out with me and be my friend, then YAY! let's do it! you can help keep me from being an antisocial loner and i can amuse you with... the oddness of me.

'Z' is for zoomzoom

2008-09-12T09:37:00.003-04:00

the end.

'Y' is for yard

2008-09-11T09:32:00.002-04:00

'X' is for xylem

2008-09-10T09:28:00.004-04:00

... didn't expect that, did ya?

'W' is for waterbuffalo

2008-09-09T09:21:00.005-04:00

'V' is for veggies

2008-09-08T09:17:00.002-04:00

'U' is for unpalatable

2008-09-07T09:12:00.003-04:00

on wisdom, and all that jazz...

2008-09-07T07:18:00.001-04:00

sometimes i don't want to speak, don't want to write because i am tired of my own voice - tired of me.
who am i to say or write anything?
how insufferably arrogant must i be to keep on with this soliloquy? this monologue.
indeed, why should my words even deserve the permanence of print, as if they meant anything?

i visited some bookstores a few days ago. i had forgotten how much i love books. just the sight and smell of them. what a delight they are to my soul.
and yet, browsing through them... you'd think that they'd let anyone with access to a computer be called "author" - and then you realize that is exactly just the way it is! i'm aware that there is a 'survival of the fittest' selection process that prevents most things written from reaching the shelf, and yet looking at the ones that do actually make it there - !!!
there's a lot of rubbish out there. it's frustrating what passes for wisdom and truth.
then i realize of course, that i participate in the same thing, even if in a much smaller way.
who am i to write?

sometimes silence is good.

still... some things need to be said.

'T' is for table

2008-09-06T09:05:00.003-04:00

good grief.

2008-09-06T05:55:00.004-04:00

watching t.v. makes me feel like an aberration (i keep using that word (mostly just in my head actually), and i'm not entirely sure of the meaning or whether it fits in the context in which i use it, and yet i'm pretty sure that it works and i keep using it).

it makes me wonder is something the matter with me? why is my life not at all like that? (why don't i have super-human powers or psychic abilities or great hair?) why don't i have all that drama? why am i not like any of them characters and don't even really want anything that they seem to want? how can such a foreign world exist (or not exist)?

weird.

it's making me want to give up on watching t.v. and turn my attentions to more productive ventures, like... mindlessly contributing to the information overload.

maybe i should revisit that hobby list and take another stab.

'S' is for sweet lime

2008-09-05T08:58:00.004-04:00

frivolity.

2008-09-05T01:53:00.001-04:00

how i wish i could be a writer. how i wish i could say things and paint stories with words. sometimes my dreams are so vivid and strange that i am tempted to take the ideas and run with them. i am not brave enough though, to wear my heart on my sleeve - more even - expose my efforts to the open critique of others. set my characters free for them to be picked apart and shredded by the world.
nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?

it would be fun to be called an artist. or a poet. sometimes i will read a paragraph or hear the words to a song or see a picture and it resonates. moves me with the need to respond.
but i don't think i 'get' poetry. there is a beauty in it that i feel eludes me. doing things with words and syntax and sentence structure and stanzas and rhythm that i just don't 'get'. i only see the surface and marvel.

i suppose there are things to which we are more suited to be spectators. and yet sometimes there is a nagging feeling that i could have been good at this if i had inclined myself towards it. there is an urge in me to create - with words, with paints, with something, anything.
a song that is inside that desires to be expressed.

instead i write here and pretend to be important and artistic.

you still love me, right?

'R' is for rooftop

2008-09-04T15:52:00.004-04:00

'Q' is for quiet time

2008-09-04T10:47:00.003-04:00

'P' is for parlour

2008-09-04T08:37:00.003-04:00

'O' is for overgrown

2008-09-03T08:33:00.002-04:00

a picture.

2008-09-03T02:27:00.003-04:00

the train ride from goa to bombay was breathtaking.
it looked like a painting you might see, ever changing. i didn't have a camera, so this is the best i could do.

the first thing that your eyes took in was all shades of pink and orange blended together. the coulds blanketed the sky, making patterns like whipped cream being stirred about in a giant bowl that was the atmosphere. here and there the sky peaked through, pale and blue but ever darkening. clouds against the horizon had a purplish hue, looking like mountains from another world. in front of these the mountains of this world, green, covered in thick, dark forests, silouhetted against the sky.
in the foreground, every shade of green - the grass and shrubs a bright, fresh hue, and then the trees darker against the sky. here and there a cultivated patch of land, cows and waterbuffalo grazing, and the occasional cottage or villa standing bravely in the midst of nature.
the pools of water left by the rains mirrored back the colourful pallete of the sky. the mud, rich and red. the train cut a path through the hills on either side, lumbering along its way, drowning out the other noises around. all along the trees reminding you that this is jungle.
the wind, wark but refreshing against your face from the open windows. strong, whispering to you that this is real, not a dream.
darker and darker as the sun set. the train shuffled on till everything took on the same shade of black and the sky darkened to match it. first rose, then deeper, almost crimson, violet, grey and black.

it was awesome to behold. not awesome like the ninja turtles, but awesome as in instilling awe and making one wonder incredulously at the fact of life, of existence, of being here to behold and marvel at beauty.
the only thing distracting were the cocroaches crawling all over the inside of the coach.

'N' is for nightview

2008-09-02T08:26:00.001-04:00

'M' is for market

2008-09-02T08:23:00.002-04:00

maybe, baby, you're the one that i love.

2008-09-02T02:14:00.001-04:00

it is exhausting thinking how you ought to be, instead, maybe, of just being
maybe i think too much and mabe i never just am, except in a few moments here and there when no one is looking.
i suppose maybe i am afraid if i just am in earnest without contrivances or niceties or tip-toeing that i will find that i'm not anything at all.
at least now i can pretend that i am wise and interesting and important.
but maybe i don't need to be anything at all.
maybe i should, rather, just be.

on death. part 1...?

2008-09-01T02:05:00.002-04:00

i don't want to die. not yet. i know that's sort of an odd statement. but in india, it feels sort of like life is cheap and plentiful. that is, not meaning that the cost of living is inexpensive, but that dying is much closer than it seems to be in the west, and it's not such a great big deal, but a part of life. death is a fact. it is expected and inevitable. they say that the west has made it 'unnatural' to die. so that even though death is universal, it is a tragedy each time. i suppose we are not exposed to death as often. (although being in the hospital setting, that might change for me). and so not being around it, you don't tend to think about it or talk about it.
well, here, i feel like it is around a lot more. or maybe it's just circumstances and my situation that makes it seem that it is around a lot more. and that makes me think about it more. death and age and sickness.
i don't want to die yet. i have some things that i would like to do first. i don't mean a "list of things to do before you die" but unfinished business.
maybe i'm morbid.
maybe a 20-something year old shouldn't be thinking about these things.
and yet, during my time here i've seen 20-something year olds die. one minute they are here, then you go for lunch and the next they are not.

when i walked through the cemetary that day, i read the inscriptions that family and friends had put on the tombstones - things like "although she is gone, she will live on in our hearts" or some such thing. it isn't true though - and i don't know why we try to pretend that it is. memories aren't the same as people. you can't live on in a memory.
mostly though, there were not even those inscriptions, just names and dates, which i found to be even sadder.
i always thought that i would die young. did you ever read "little women"? do you remember beth? i always thought i would be like her. but i've found that i'm not quite done yet.
this has just been a jumble of thoughts, not cohesive at all - i'll have to think through it again.
maybe i'm morbid.

'L' is for ladder

2008-08-31T08:04:00.004-04:00

how many westerners does it take to kill a spider?

2008-08-31T02:03:00.003-04:00

i haven't told you any bug stories yet have i?
i suppose none of them are too notable, except maybe the second giant spider. maybe also the first giant spider.
okay, so here goes:

the place where we stayed in Eluru was totally ghetto.
i mean, it had everything that the other places had, 2 beds in each room (the beds were hard, as hard as sleeping on the floor would be, so we would be sore in the morning, but i got used to it, and i like a firm-ish bed, so it wasn't so bad), a washroom with a toilet and a tap, a sink, a window, under which sat a desk and chair, a shelf for stuff, a mirror and hooks. but it was terribly ghetto. we were the only ones staying there, even though the place had quite a large capacity, so i suspect that the nuns who ran the centre also had the impression that the place was ghetto and didn't make anyone else live there.
there was mould growing from the ceiling to which i was allergic. at first both my roommate and i were stuffed up from allergies - but hers might have been from her mouldy shoes, so when she got rid of those, her allergies went as well. but mine lingered. whenever i was away from the room for an extended period of time they would start to clear, and then when i returned my sinuses went right back to their old green mucoid secreting selves.
our room had this horrible odor that we would notice whenever we walked into it. probably from the mould.
there were giant cockroaches living in our bathroom, so we never knew what we were going to find. my roommate was becomming quite the expert at killing them - WHAP!! and they were dead. we were both still a little squeamish though. we would keep one of her running shoes on the top of the toilet, just in case, because you never know when they would creep out. i'm blind without my glasses, so i never quite felt safe taking a bath because i wouldn't be able to see them and react. there was the usual fare of geckos and little spiders and bugs of undefined sorts. these weird wormy things (they were red, and oh so disgusting and about as long as your longest finger) would crawl around our room occasionally. we would hand wash our clothes in the buckets they provided and hang them to dry whereever we could around the room. once a wormy thing crawled onto my drying bra. i saw this red thing on my bra and wondered what it could be? so i touched it, and ACK! it was a wormy thing!!! i was mortified.
the bathroom was dark: the floor was dark and the walls were dark, so you couldn't tell how dirty it was in there. that was probably a good thing. you also couldn't quite tell what the colour of the water was because the light in the bathroom was not very good. also probably a good thing. but at one point, after the heavy rains, the water started running a very noticable muddy brown. so i had to avoid a shower for that day. i pretended it had cleared up the next day in order to convince myself to bathe.
we got into the habit of not flushing the toilet because it took so long to fill up. i guess it was a pretty good way to conserve water and all that. but ghetts nevertheless.
there were reddish splotches on the wall by my bed, that had sort of dripped down a little bit and were dried there. i had the sneaking suspicion that it was the blood of whatever some previous denizen was lucky enough to kill, and all that was left were the marks to decorate the rooms.
the electricity would go off every night at around 6:30 or 7:00 and be off for about an hour. we liked to have dinner during that time, because what else are you going to do sitting alone in the dark? besides the food wasn't spectacular and wasn't particularly helped by shedding light on the subject. so we would eat by torchlight or candlelight in the dining hall.
the mosquitoes were killer. at night after dinner, we would go straight to bed - around 8-30 or 9 o'clock. my roommate covered in her sleeping bag and i in my sheet, wrapped right round to the point of suffocation just so that nothing creepy crawly could come in and so that i had some, although not completely effective, measure of protection from the mosquitoes. by the end of our stay there they were getting worse and worse, even biting right through the sheet. so one day i decided to use my umbrella as a prop for my sheet, as a makeshift mosquito net, and i slept under the umbrella. (i can be pretty ghetto myself). my roommate was amused. it was terribly uncomfortable but it worked. so i tried it again the next night. it was the most uncomfortable thing that ever was, and this time they got in, perhaps through little places where the sheet was not held down completely. awful. i would not recommend it.
i mention all these things not to complain but because i think that they are really funny. the giant spiders were also quite funny.
the first one we lived with for a few days. my roommate saw it first and pointed it out to me. it was smaller than a tarantula, but getting there in size. it's body was a bit bigger than a toonie, and it's legs were long and hairy and thick. it didn't seem to be moving very far and it stuck to a corner of the room above the window where it was rather away from us. we were just extra careful to zip our bags up to make sure it didn't crawl into anything. but then my roommate pointed out that it could be poisonous. so we decided to ask the nun who had come with us what we should do. of course it happened that she was afraid of spiders. she came to our room, and then when we told her what it was, she didn't even look, she just backed out of the room, totally creeped out. we found that amusing. but before she went back to the city she did get someone to come in and kill it for us. there was this long pole, a sort of broom or mop type thing, but it was maybe twice the length of a regular mop. he took this thing, and used the opposite end, which was just the pole and ended in a sharp little jagged point, and he climbed on top of the desk in our room and zot! he stabbed the spider, impaling it on the end of the pole. and that was that.
until the second giant spider. this one was not in our room, it was in the hallway. same size and type. we were worried that it would crawl into one of our rooms. so someone had to kill it. my roommate was the obvious choice, because she was an expert at killing things - but she didn't want to do it. one of the other girls was also a good candidate as she would kill everything and anything, and was obsessed with keeping everything sterile - but she also refused to do it. the third girl was hopeless, she wouldn't kill anything. so they all coaxed me into it. it took a lot of coaxing but i was feeling a little bit brave because i had just killed my first giant cockroach, so i took the long pole thing and stood as far away as i possibly could, and attempted to do what the dude had done - stab the thing. it was terrifying and a lot harder than it looked. but i aimed and stabbed. i think my stab may have stunned the thing, because it moved off to the side, but it just lay there. i had missed. i couldn't work up the nerve to do it again, so my roommate came over and had a go at it. she stabbed at the spider that was just lying there. but she missed - and it got up and started running for us, so we both screamed and ran out the doorway outside the building. 2 of the nuns were standing at the front of the other building, probably amused, watching the fun of lame foreigners trying to kill something, but i don't think they liked us and they didn't come to help. well, the sterilize everything girl convinced us to come back inside because she saw the spider and it was safe, and so we went back in. she then took the mop pole thing and used the mop end to try and sweep the spider out (it was hiding under my umbrella which i had left in the hallway to dry). well, it worked sort of, but when she got to the end of the hall, by the entrance door, she couldn't anymore and so my roommate took over again. bang bang swish. out the door, and down the steps. but then bang bang bang, she was clobbering the thing. she deemed that it was best to put it out of its misery because in the struggle and the sweeping it had been injured anyhow.
so that was the end of giant spider number 2.
i'm so glad that i am not in that place anymore.

all apologies.

2008-08-29T01:41:00.001-04:00

i probably should not have started the alphabet picture thing, because now it means i have to continue. it is agonizing posting pictures here (or doing anything online for that matter) because the internet connection is so slow, but i will continue my series "goa in pictures" when i get the chance. (the last part of that sentence makes me laugh, so i'll leave it in).

a lot has happened in goa these past 2 weeks since i've last written here - maybe more than i can say. the inside details of it lie scrawled in my journal*, not for these pages or the world to see.

forgive me if these reflections on my course and AP seem a little distant - that's because they are. i need some more time to chew through what's going on inside my head and heart right now, so these will have to suffice.

*(for ingrid: the nothing book!)

'K' is for kim

2008-08-27T11:01:00.002-04:00

'J' is for junction

2008-08-27T05:46:00.003-04:00

'I' is for Isaiah

2008-08-26T21:53:00.003-04:00

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

The wild animals honor me, the jackals and the owls,
because I provide water in the desert and streams in the wasteland,
to give drink to my people, my chosen, the people I formed for myself
that they may proclaim my praise.

~Isaiah 43: 19-21