In Motion

It's been a somewhat crazy day, starting from church in the morning, Uncle Baru's place for lunch, home for an hour-long chat with the boyfriend, Nish's place for post-lunch, and finally the airport for Rachelle. At 3pm, I headed home to crash until 6pm, and had dinner at Fook Xing after with the family. Dad called to order the food in the car at 6.30, said we'd be there by 7, and at 6.45 the person who took the order called back to ask if we were there already because the food was ready to be served. Good thing we were already looking for a parking space at that time! From left : Signature Tofu (top), Midin belacan (bottom), Szechuan soup (middle), Mani chai with egg (top right), Sweet and sour pork (bottom left). And vinegar in a bowl but that's not important. *For whoever's interested, Fook Xing is located at some obscure building in Jalan Sekama just opposite the famous kolo mee stall. Anyway, we decided to make this year's Christmas a little

Jesus is the reason for the season. Merry Christmas, everyone. I'm still grappling with the knowledge that He is the ultimate source of true joy, and the sadness I feel because someone I care about is hurting. Where do you draw the line between empathy and joy despite the circumstances?

I think if you ask anyone to describe me, the adjective 'insecure' wouldn't cross their minds at all. Even I wouldn't describe myself as that - there are just too many other wonderful things I could say about myself. Besides, the heat I radiate as a result of the friction between my feet and the ground as I briskly stride past displays an aura of confidence, doesn't it? =P So I wonder when it was that I started thinking I wasn't good enough. When I was younger, I didn't think I was pretty. I was being really objective about it too - I was chubby, kept short hair, my eyes are still as monolid and small as ever, and everything about my appearance was just... ordinary . My benchmark was probably all those girls with double-eyelids and long hair done up in all sorts of ribbons. Whatever it was, I knew I wasn't pretty - but at that time, it was okay . That's because I could always fall back to my intelligence (or rather, just good grades) and charism

The other day, I read a devotional book for married couples. No, I'm not getting ahead of myself here, I just like to read stuff about relationships and it so happened to be in my dad's library and it had many stories of couples...now why am I getting defensive, there's really nothing wrong with reading stuff like that. =P So don't judge me. *glares* The point I was trying to make before I interrupted myself to justify my taste in books * deep breath * was that I was a bit discouraged by all the possible conflict factors that might arise after marriage. I'm a bit (okay a lot) of a pessimistic perfectionist by nature, so I like things to run smoothly, not least when it comes to my own relationship.Given a choice, I would like to make all the right decisions, meet Mr Right, be Missus Right, live a comfortable life with enough money to get by, have non-rebellious children (* sigh * this one's probably wishful thinking) and just have a happy, satisfying life in

The title of the post says exactly what it means - I hate camps. I've never really liked camps, even when I was a teen. Hmm that sounds rather cool, being able to say that I was a teen, implying that I'm not a teen anymore. But back to the topic. Camps bring out the fear of the unknown (and known) in me. Something about being outside your element gives you a sense of insecurity...Case in point : you never really know how many shirts/shorts/pairs of underwear to pack for camp, do you? Why? Because you NEVER know what might happen, and if anything happens, you're too far removed from civilization to do anything about it - especially if you're on your period * winces *. Just in case that isn't a strong enough point on its own, allow me to expound on four things I absolutely dread about camping. #1 Hygiene, hygiene, hygiene. Or the lack of it. When in camp, hygiene is definitely NOT a priority. You never really feel clean in camp, partly 'cause you never

This mayen't be the gospel truth, but for what it's worth, this article confirms something all of you probably already know : I've always been 55+ mentally, if not physically. =P http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2247988/The-perfect-man-DOES-exist--fact-FIVE-types-there.html

I used to think that doing the right thing will eventually pay off; that deep down, people do appreciate integrity and kindness, even if they might not like you being a goody-two-shoes at first. If they really don't, it's a problem with their hearts, and I just do what's right by God. After all, Matthew 10:28 reads : "And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." But sometimes, when good intentions go to waste or backfire (again and again), it can be so easy to get discouraged. Like, why love and care for someone when they keep wringing your heart into little pieces? It's so much easier to be detached or removed from the situation, or to maybe put that person in his/her place with a harsh word. I think I do a fine job of speaking the truth, but maybe I haven't gotten the loving tone down pat, so I won't say I can speak the truth in love just yet. The

You stretch and stretch overconfident of youthful idealism But with every stretch The limit decreases The wounds cut deeper And tiny pieces of the heart are lost forever. Love we must but the stretch marks stay barely visible but permanent.

Remember how I said I was terribly unskilled at arts and crafts activities? Well, I think I may have exaggerated. Or maybe I'm just feeling proud of myself for creating some decent-looking stuff. Which, by my standard, is miraculous in itself. Aunty Geok Ming invited me over for some beading, so I had her entire stash to play with. Took a long time to get started because my lack of vision + poor aesthetic judgment was terribly crippling. BUT HEY, enough down-grading. You be the judge. Would you pay for these? (Please only answer if it's "yes" otherwise I will delete your comment =P) Oooooohh shiny.......

So I've been pestering Rene to try out this blood donation thing that I've been doing since my 18th birthday, and since dad was gonna run errands near Sarawak General Hospital yesterday, I saw my golden opportunity. *evil grin* Community service advert here : If you're legally 18 (& above), not on serious medication, not pregnant/having your period, don't have a  history of drug abuse, and weigh more than 45 kg, do consider donating  one of your kidneys blood at the SGH blood bank. And don't use the lack of parking spaces as an excuse not to, the new building for the blood bank (near the mortuary) even has THREE (3) parking spaces marked "STRICTLY FOR BLOOD DONORS ONLY". Whee for convenience! It's way more convenient to go straight to the hospital (compared to waiting for a blood donation drive at some supermarket) because the likelihood of a queue is next to 0. Dad hasn't been donating blood for a long time now because the last he tried

He's even packed up his trusty pillow (PILLOW!!!!!). Guess that means he ain't planning to come back to Malaysia in the near future. =P Kinda sad for all of us, almost as if we weren't built to withstand the pain of  separation. Mum and dad have been missing him since a week ago. XD Maybe that's why an overseas education has never really been in the horizon for any of us. Ray just got lucky. Oh well. Hope England doesn't like you so you can come back home to work. =P