Sometimes I stand around looking at cigarettes on the ground and wonder whose lips they touched and the lives behind them.
I'd want to know who was desperate for a cigarette that day, or had they asked for one from a stranger, and if they did, how did they approach them.
What were the conversations in between about? How did they handle the small talk if they chose to start it, since I'd consider asking for cigarettes a big favour.
Or was the one who proceeded with his/her request on his last stick, but still gave it away anyway?
I don't mind the fact that my father smokes two packs a day.
I want to know what he thought about with every inhale/exhale.
Did he brood more over his failures or his successes in life? He sits up for hours in the early morning and thinks about his past mistakes - I know this because I've asked him once. And we shared a moment of silence before going back to bed.
After all, Pa believes that after he dies, there will be a great Nothing.
No heaven, but maybe hell.
Maybe hell.

-

I saw someone familiar through my astigmatism and wasn't sure what he thought about me.
Would the first thing that popped into his head be a Bible verse or judgement?
My feet were freezing and I bolted soon after, not knowing what to make of the situation.
Wow, I am actually paranoid.
Next time, I should avoid the library and take the longer route outside.
The library closes at 9. Bye.

thank You

I am so blessed to be at Royal Holloway.
I'm really proud of myself for budgeting and eating well, and for doing good in my work.
Basically, I am pretty motivated at university. I guess the challenge is to always share my resources and to help anyone who is struggling to keep up. I can be so unhelpful sometimes.

I'm in a good mood.
I, I, I.

I have nothing else to say but thank You for being with me throughout.

The Tyger, by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The Truth about Truth

I've finally made plans and am going to the gym tomorrow! Trying my best to run, cycle and swim over an hour and a half after cell at the club.
Been feeling ridiculously lethargic and tired throughout the week. I feel like a punctured tyre... I am also tempted to give up saving money properly since I crave comfort food more than usual now.
Failing to get up refreshed in the morning irks me the most, and I don't feel too good when I don't go back home for dinner often too.
It's not a chore to be home, it's just that work takes up most of my time and all I really want is to be around other friends with new perspectives of things.
Spending time with my friends is very therapeutic for me, and I try to reserve the bulk of the weekend for my parents.
Still, the second season of HFTH has been going on pretty well and I hope it will be recognised as a labour of love. And love demands sacrifice - I'm pretty proud of the team, since we have finished conducting research interviews with all the important experts we'd like to have on our show (in exchange for a teeny bit of sleep).
I get a little peeved about some things from time to time, especially since I don't take the condescending tone very lightly, but as long as the project goes fine - all's well in the world.

What I have been reminded all week is this: A pet peeve goes a long way, but there really is no necessary cause for dramatic action to be taken. Self-control, that's the word.
I'd advise people in this situation "tahan" but really, giving it to God in prayer is way healthier and satisfying for the soul.
I haven't been focusing on my spiritual walk very much over these two weeks and I sometimes lapse back into temptations of the flesh. I get angry and restless over nothing, and I even become too tired to cry.
I realise that this happens because I'm relying on MY own strength and not God's.
As D has told me, and this is something we as Christians all know: "Only a renewed mind can cause that change."
And I understand her completely because that change has happened before - yet all I did was to waddle about in temptation and eventually stumbled.
I can't emphasize on how simple it is to go to God in prayer and the power behind it - I could never explain this to a non-Christian fully but only ask him to take that step of faith to believe.
Even as I type all this down, I am remembering a portion of the book I have been studying:

"Christianity is often scorned as the pariah among the religions of the world and considered by its detractors to be controversial because modern learning mocks the very notion of truth as absolute. The Christian faith is often castigated because the comtemporary mind-set is infuriated by any claim to ideational elitism in a pluralistic society. How dare one idea be claimed as superior to another? After all, we are supposed to be a multicultural society: Should not truth also come in different dress?...

One surprising illusion under which the modern critic of Christainity lives is the belief that Christianity is the only system of belief that is EXCLUSIVISTIC. This assumption reveals a significant ignorance of all of the major world-views present today. In reality, EVERY system is implicitly excluvistic...

Let me therefore reiterate that truth, by definition, will always be exclusive. Indeed, Jesus claimed such exclusivity. Had He not made such an assertion, He would have been unreasonably implying that truth is all-inclusive, which it cannot be."

My friend once asked me, "Li Ling, is there something wrong with me? Why do you and R understand Christianity? But I don't."

I still remember that question up till now because it made her feel left out. It wasn't merely about the topic we were discussing, but it was because she saw the way we spoke about it. I am not exaggerating, because many times when people who love God talk about Him, they are honestly and truly engrossed, passionate and to a certain extent, mesmerizing - not in terms of their speech, but it is their spirit pouring out and speaking about these things that have changed lives and reconciled brokenness amongst people and themselves.

Everything that the author wrote is true. It is the harsh truth - that truth itself IS exclusive. And understanding it means having to take the initiative to go find out. This is something that has been on my mind for very long, and all I can really do is to take the time out to learn how I may explain Christianity to people such as my friend and to be even more sensitive to them. I couldn't give her an answer.

But if she were to ask me that now, I'd tell her that Sure, God has rules, but notice how they are good rules. He also allows us to bend them, tweak them, not abide by them and even defile them. We have Free Will. But "(11) here is a trustworthy saying:

If we died with him,
we will also live with him;
(12) if we endure,
we will also reign with him.
If we disown him,
he will also disown us;
(13) if we are faithless,
he remains faithful,
for he cannot disown himself."

-- 2 Timothy 2:11-13

Verse (13) means - for He cannot deny himself, meaning that God's Word has not been spoken falsely, and it is a double assurance following from "He remains faithful" because it is a Promise and is the absolute, unchanging truth.
There is nothing that can change God's character. That's how faithful He is.
And I was also thinking about how people to react to things like: "God is crazy for you."
And you would think that the person telling you that is crazy - but watch what happens when people finally observe God's relentless pursuit and how hard He fights for them when they are at desperate circumstances in their lives. And to just observe that for yourself.
And this, therefore, debunks the myth "God helps those who help themselves first."
No. I disagree.
Even a soldier who surrendered to Christ in the middle of battle disagrees. This is a short gist of a poem written by an American soldier and given to Ravi Zacharias, the author of this book I've been reading:

"He tells of a life-defining night when he was caught in the crossfire of a battle hat raged around him and a war that he could not silence within him. The one, a conflict of ideology for which the weapons of warfare now thundered forth their fury; the other, a struggle of the heart and mind as they dealt with matters of the soul. It was to that inner embattlement he directed his attention...But now, from his shellhole as he saw the starlit sky, he felt the skeptic had not called a spade a spade. In silence he peacefully surrendered to the Lord whose love he could resist no longer, and with the triumph of the soul, he said, "Now that I have met you I'm not afraid to die.""

I honestly love how God meets us in our desperate circumstances. It doesn't mean He's only going to meet us then, but it is THERE where we feel the need for God in our lives is the strongest and most impactful. That's why many who have turned to Christ have admitted that death was the sweetest experience they had ever had in their walk with the Christian God.

The Atheist has facts that prove God does not exist - but remember that man changes his theologies according to his desires, and that the Atheist is also not able to prove the absence of a Creator and a good, loving God. I truly agree with the author that it is then up to the non-Christian to ask him/herself these few questions:
1) Can Man live without God?
2) Where is Atheism when it hurts?
3) What gives life meaning?
4) Who is Jesus, and why does it matter?
And I believe the non-Christian will find that Christianity is "logically consistent", "empirically adequate", "experientially relevant" and passes both the "Undeniability test" (the test for truth) and the "Unaffirmability test" (the test for falsehood) - even when compared to other religions.
It is the tedious part of the search that people cannot bear. So get this book!
Wow, I am actually promoting this book. Anyway, it's a good book. Brutally honest -everything the modern mind needs. You should read it.
A simple blog post turned out to be ...pretty long.
tata!

This afternoon my director and I walked into the Freemason Lodge at Coleman Street; I leading the way with big struts, not knowing how intrusive I might have been. But that boldness paid off.
We were treated to cups of coffee in an underground bar furbished with polished, leathered Chesterfields, rows of trophies glinting under spotlights in glass cabinets and stylish mirrored arcs as a serious but polite atmosphere filled the room. Lana Del Rey would have started playing at any point in time.
It was only after Brian began chuckling at a little joke I cracked to ease the tension that I finally felt at ease and unsuspected.
They are, after all, Freemasons. If they were to be given another name, it'd be under the label of Secret Society or as Zen put it, an angmoh Keng Teck Whay.
We started sharing about our documentary with them and they answered a few questions we had about Freemasonry.
To Zen, it was as if he had found his true religious calling - except Freemasonry isn't a religion to begin with. He transformed into the ultimate fanboy and began questioning how, as a Freemason, you have to be loyal to your country above all else. Later he told me that the Lees have dual citizenships, and that LKY is too, rumoured to be a Freemason.
I was equally intrigued as well, though I wondered about the loopholes in secret balloting, why the rooms for private meetings were called "Temples" and the cons of keeping too 'quiet' when it comes to heading charitable acts in society.
The General Manager had eyes that saw through my soul. I tried challenging him to a stare down. He obviously didn't play along.
He said, "we do things in quiet - that's different from being secretive." I nodded.
"We have a Book of Constitution. That proves that we have never practiced cultism, and will never be [a cult]."
Brian went, "Mm."

I'd like to film a scene at the Freemason Lodge or even write a play about fraternities.
"Fraternity" stars the Christian, the Muslim, the Buddhist, the University Graduate and the Politician. And Death, just like the lady in The Map Maker's Sorrow except she's less seductive. She's sexy, but she doesn't seduce.
What link does it have to Freemasonry, I don't know.
But what works is that we don't know about Freemasonry either. (c o n t r a d i c t o r y)
The male characters are upright but generally passive-aggressive men while Death is the emotional, acidic opposite.
I am first to find out what 'Hiram' means.
I have goosebumps. I am on a thinking roll!
*chews on bagels for thought*

peace of mind

Soundtrack: peace of mind - the jezebels
To be titled Peace of Mind, after Hayley Mary who has way less of an ego than noisy ass Williams.

--

I'm writing again.
Ink that seeps through the next page
Choosing the wrong pen, making the right mistake
My love is a bloodied river, with
Horses that rear their ugly heads
Charging me with a crime when I crowned you saint
Saint of my life, my all
When I lathered your face with my hair and saw you through
My perfume
My scent, my crown of glory
Here I am again writing you my sad poetry
That you never asked to read
Where "worship" was the word you skipped
Never sought to understand, never did find me
And I waited to be queen
Over a kingdom I lusted for
With a ruler I still adore

I sit here upon the throne I saved for myself,
The one true heir to my own joy, my happiness
But Loneliness is my advisor;
Your ghost cuts my hair
So I let these dead things grow
I let these old feelings fester
How could I have been serving two masters?

My people trudge the city like zombies
Hungry for fresh, wet, pink, meat
Ready to serve, to bow in defeat
To gorge on what's left:
They don't know how to wait.
They don't howl for me the way they do for you
Hurling their decay on your towering gates;
Borders we set up to kick them out, to separate
When I said I never want to see you again
When you said you had already lost me to the wind
So we hung our heads in honour of the pain -
But you were the prayer I prayed
The thief of all my days
How could a relationship not involve sex,
When conditional love was my finest asset?

My people, they don't remember the scent of my perfume
So now tell me, how may I get to you?

--

After I wrote this, I came back to my best friend telling me: "Jesus will never shortchange you." What a night.

For a little while

For a little while in my life,
I gave my heart to a coward
Whose heart wasn't big enough to fit mine

For a little while in my life,
I let my body love another
Whose owner left after it was satisfied

For a little while in my life,
I said Lord, I hate you
And wrote an angry poem that
Got me into university

For a little while in my life,
I fell in love with someone like you
And it was the most confusing 'little while' ever.

tonight i cried so hard that both my thighs felt the sadness of my soul and started hurting too

i wrote about you

I awake everyday in hopes of something
to write about/ about our love, perhaps
about funny loss about your cross
that i made you bear/ but you didn't
fall like i thought you would
fall for Him? fall for me?
maybe, just maybe, my mother is right,
fanatic is the word
but let me be obssessed till the end of time
the time i set aside, time i take to contemplate
in the dead of night
and womb of the morning light
how golden you truly are
when we go deep;
when we take the plunge
into each other's heart
you left a shard of love in me
should it be expunged
or should we
leave it there to let it
love me again?

I think I'm actually pissed off because I'm not supposed to be doubling as a producer.

Something good

Today something bad happened.
Today I burnt my hand after spilling boiling soup all over it.
I know it was boiling, because I saw a bubble pop in the bowl.
So after I left Place A where my hand got hurt, I, with bloodshot eyes, went to meet my mum at Holland Village.
As we stood outside Cold Storage, she looked at me quietly for awhile then asked, "Do you want to eat chicken wing? Four ninety-nine for five."
I almost cracked into a smile but realised that would've been very strange, so I shook my head and turned away. All I can say in my defense is that the reaction was natural to both of us eg. 1) I turn away 2) she does not get offended. It's probably due to the fact that we have an abrasive, love-hate mother and daughter relationship.

Before this very cute thing happened, I was furious.
I thought that my expectation of my mother was pretty acceptable (I think it's fine to expect, since she's your parent right?) I simply expected her to just pick me up from Place A and drive me home with her.
Then after I told her I had burned my hand though it wasn't the physical I was upset about but rather the emotional, she sent me texts that were unfortunately, off tangent.
Though I can safely say that the incident was very short-lived and it did not cause much suffering between her and I.
I realised that when my mum makes 'mistakes' like that, I have to give her another chance.
I have to let go of my expectations of her, even though it's perfectly normal to have them, and know that she tries to make me feel better or even compensate for how she misunderstood me before.
All through my bawling, my head went: I try so hard, why can't you see me trying?
Now as I look back, I think my mum has been trying all her life.
"I burn, I break, I try to do right."

She also gave me stellar advice when we met.
What I love about my mother is that she reserves her pride for her own sake when she has to.
Perhaps that is something I have to learn, since the both of us are quite similar in terms of being quite self-sacrificing when it comes to matters of the heart. And sometimes we do it wrongly, but the motive is there.

Today I feel that I am past misunderstanding my mama.
I'm happy that the incident happened.

Come wake me from my sleep

FATHER, MAKE US ONE - JUNE FAMILY CAMP 2013

"I get tired of people."

I ascribe my tendency to slip away from friends to this simple truth D shared with me as we spoke in our hotel room at camp. That no matter the introvert/extrovert we may seem, we long to have our own space and time alone to rest. And when I say I tire, I often find that I must get away from people soon enough before I become subtly then finally, entirely annoyed with their mindsets and personalities. But I realised that it is also due to a lack of discipline, when I don't submit the thought before God the moment it enters my head. That when we say we love our friend, loving them doesn't just happen without our effort and in my terms, a whole lot of prayer.

This year I went to camp with an expectation to rest in the Lord's presence. I am still blown away by how God gave me the privilege to lie on 'quiet, green pastures' and to let Him free me from the cares and worries of our world. I think the speaker put it beautifully - that it was a 'divine appointment', set aside by God in this age of self-indulgence and rushing, acknowledging that His people hunger for Him and Him being God, who honors His people's commitments, met us there once again.

This time it wasn't in the desert. I felt like we were gathering as a people to drink from the fountain of living water.
I spoke to the bassist in our worship band today and he commented, "I heard camp was very Spirit-led." I wanted to say Yes a hundred times to that.

One particular experience that touched me was during one afternoon at camp, when I arrived at the workshop venue earlier than I was supposed to. The few members of the Chinese congregation were gathered there and because they had no guitarist, they sang to a soundtrack playing from the worship leader's phone. The members are roughly 60 to 70 years old, and when they lifted their hands up to worship, I couldn't help but feel tears streaming down my cheeks - and I wasn't afraid to let that happen. And the prayer of my heart was: Lord, I want my parents to know You, to worship You the way these elderly men and women do. Because seeing them raise their hands in surrender made all the difference. That there was no barrier, neither in language nor in the spiritual context; NOTHING could stand in their way as long as they wanted to worship Him with all their might and all their strength. The Spirit of God moved so strongly and I cherish that moment so much because they sought Him and He fell AFRESH upon them. And that scene right there made me think about Pa and Ma and how mere happiness and satisfaction by worldly standards cannot compare to the joy these men and women found in Jesus Christ. And you know what the beautiful thing is? That no matter how late in life they got to know Jesus, and no matter how much/little they worked in the vineyard, they are still entitled to receive that denarius that the vineyard owner promised - that they will receive equally and in full what the Lord has promised them.
I can't even describe how beautiful the name of Jesus sounds when either said, sung or declared in Chinese/Hokkien. Mm I really appreciated the fact that our worship team made the effort to include Chinese lyrics during our worship sessions throughout camp. I know most of the youths and the English congregation probably didn't understand nor could they make out the words, but having knowledge of what they meant blessed me greatly. To have two meanings of the same song, to sing as One church, with One voice.

God addressed every burden and every burning question I had at camp. He heard the cry of my heart and ministered to what I was sensitive + defensive about in the gentlest way ever.
I used to be envious of those whom God had revealed visions to - but I was reminded that when I stop looking for the spectacular and look to Him, why should I even doubt that His love is enough for me, EVEN when He doesn't speak to me in visions? Because it is.
And when He met me, when He showed me things behind these eyelids, how my Spirit soared. HOW IT SOARED.

That when I asked the
/Spirit of the Living God, come fall afresh on me,
come WAKE ME from my SLEEP,
BLOW THROUGH the CAVERNS OF MY SOUL,
pour in me to OVERFLOW,/

the words "I know where it hurts" appeared in my mind and I just broke down in His Presence. I was like flowing egg yolk. (Funny analogy but pretty apt.)
And when others say it is probably my own thoughts, that I'm making it up in my mind, I say to you with all my faith that the Lord HAS THE POWER to cause a deformed arm to REGROW AGAIN and to cause FLAMES OF FAITH to SHOOT OFF THE TOP OF ROOFS without causing the building to burn.
Right there, in the ballroom, we prayed against the spirit of cynicism and the spirit of envy and how He moved. Just, HOW HE MOVED. HOW HE HEALED. HOW GENTLY HE SPOKE. HOW THE HEARTS OF HIS PEOPLE MOURNED AND DECLARED THAT WITHOUT HIM THEY WERE FRAIL. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HOW THEY ROARED FOR THEIR YAHWEH.
What the Spirit has showed me and revealed to me is between Him and I and will only share with friends and family whom I sense will be edified by the testimony - but really, these glimpses of the God who has kept His covenant since the days of Abraham and Moses have WON MY HEART AND ERASED MY DOUBT.
I have a voracious hunger to understand the Word even more. I don't want it to burn out.
I want my works, my poetry, to speak of His praises. I don't want the people around me to praise my vocals, but to tell me how God used me in worship and how they were blessed by it. Don't get me wrong though, I am very grateful when people appreciate my voice but I want so much to be recognised as a woman after God's heart. I want so much to overflow for His glory, and not by my strength but by His grace alone.

Even after typing all this, I am reminded of the fact that Christians often sound presumptuous and perhaps come across as if they are of greater importance and on a higher spiritual plane than others.
I want to tell you that no, they are not entitled to being that way.
Even if you are a non-Christian friend of mine and you are reading this, I want you to teach me, to call me out when I am doing things that are wrong or things that hurt you - as long as you tell me, I will do all I can to make amendments even if I can't solve the situation entirely. Do you know what I am saying? That I will learn not just from Christ or my church friends - I will learn from everybody who is willing to teach me because that blesses me GREATLY. Because if I am to be crushed to produce the best oil - then by all means, teach me and discipline me, but with love.
I hope that all my non-Christian friends will be gracious with me.
Goodnight!

Cheesy time

This is a simple post. Simple could also mean "act cute". I'm disgusting, I know. But I mean everything I type here.

--

Yesterday I was with Ken's mama for awhile at Uniqlo and we had a very indepth talk. She also invited me over for dinner. We had yummy spring chicken and satay and all the Wongs were at home with their hamsters! It was one of the happiest days of my life. Ken and I went to a funfair in the early afternoon and he was really patient and I sensed that he was truly enjoying his time with me, even if funfairs are really not his thing. He even waited for me to finish doing henna and getting beads in my hair! Thank you.
--

Today I took the bus with God. When the words "Learn to find rest in the Lord" popped into my head, I got goosebumps. It was a physical reminder that you will be with me to get through September. I can't wait for camp, because I expect You to be there; I want to encounter You again. I can't wait to experience life and to honour You with almost every moment, because Your presence is amazing.

Today I had the yummiest instant noodles I have ever eaten since forever.

Today your phone call made me so happy.

Today I did pretty good at work!

Today Kelly is coming over to make Irish potato soup and nachos.

Today I stayed up till 1 in the morning talking with my cousin who just came home last night. We spoke about the family, my mum, her mum - and Popo was just lying there, at the centre of all the verbal action. It's good to have her back. Also, she took up 3/4 of the bed space, but I survived.

Today I laughed like crap at a photo in the office. My editors laughed along too.

Today the PSI peaked at 111. Or was it 13(plus)? The haze is nuts. Cue "Meanwhile in Switzerland".

Today my mama liked my photo, wished my cousin happy birthday and is now in Bath.

--

Tomorrow - MY PARENTS COME BACK!

--

Always:
6.24 PM is Cheesy Time.
Cheesy Time = The Lord loves me and looks out for me, always.

My Favourite Biscuits List

1. Julie's Peanut Butter Crackers
2. Sugar Crackers
3. Gem Biscuits
4. Animal Crackers
5. Teddy Biscuits (not chocolate)

(TBC)

失望

我记得小时候，一直相信所有爱护我的人都不会轻易离开。我以为我能不操心，不用为感情或友谊之类的去挣扎。长大后，渐渐成熟了，我还是无法相信人会变／选择离开 － 因为我从来没怀疑过任何人；因为忠诚的性质是永远不变，永远忠实的。

我觉得很失望。

2046

Dearest darling,
If we're not lovers anymore, can I be your filmmaking partner?
Perhaps you bring out the artist in me, and I realise that I am starting to appreciate your taste in things and matters that are both trivial and simple-natured because I love you.
If we produce and direct a crime film together, know that I'm doing it out of love.
I sometimes feel like I'm Marina and you are my Ulay, and one day when we leave each other, you will be back for me. Or perhaps I'll be the chaser again, and you may be waiting all the while for me to find you. I will find you.
Do you understand what I'm saying?
I appreciate you.
I adore you.

Love,
m²

Ahem.
So. After watching so many Tony Leung films, I'm starting to realise that my father is almost exactly like the characters Leung plays.
He is of a certain quiet charm (aka a quiet sort of sexy), an entertainer, a thinker and an emotional man when alone.
He read many martial arts novels when he was younger and lived through one of my favourite eras of all time. Talking business was his second language, with alcohol and cigarettes complemented by a manipulative, brilliant mind.
I love how much he loves my mom.
Even though she frequently goes about doing things undecidedly, she can be very careful at many times as well. Perhaps he sees that about her, and understands her subtle humour and that she's a real, faithful life partner.
He knows that she is 'auntie' around certain people, 'proud' among others but always loving when with him; either in my presence or alone.
My parents are such gems. I regret saying I hated my mother.
Our handwriting is almost identical.

Putting the 'can' in Cannes

I. Today marks the day Anthony Chen wins the Camera d'Or prize at the Cannes Film Festival. I am thrilled and bursting with pride this morning. It's not as if I know him, or that I've watched his films before - but winning this gem says a lot about this homegrown director right here: I am proud, because I know he is proud of his country and it resonates in his work! Eek!

It is in the way good filmmaking weaves the most unlikeliest of circumstances to not only address issues that burn and call out for our attention/awareness - but to also remember that at the end of the day, many things boil down to human relationships. That (in reference to Anthony Chen's Ilo Ilo) those who are deemed 'insignificant' and the 'lowest' of social classes have the ability to affect and to even craft our world. That we are all the same and we are connected in so many different ways, even if it seems impossible. And Chen saw that. Many directors and producers see that.

It is, in this way, that makes artists, storytellers, directors and everyone who is obsessed with creating to constantly work towards precision - in both representing and reenacting eras, times and scenarios with a sensitivity that longs to provoke, catalyse and even heal.

II. Storytelling is such an art, and I am still intimidated by it till today. It hasn't been made easier - even though I have supposedly spent two and a half years learning what makes a good story. I am so thankful for internship, because it put me in the centre of learning how to not only write, but how to save. It showed me that I am capable of many skills that others have said I'm not equipped with - heh heh. I still subconsciously nod my head as I remember Boss reminding the production team that the story arc and structure must always remain. Instead of bickering about how the story should flow, I guess the team forgot that it was essentially storytelling that would make the episode work.

III. All this ideating and working with you has helped me to grow closer to you. (Also, I am basically a bum around you.) It makes me see you in a different light and to know that you are so accepting. You are more accepting than half the people I know. I don't see any 'glory' in being the villain and we both know that we are all capable of what they do - and "that's okay." You make working hard look so sexy. Meow. *blush*

IV. Tonight is the first project meeting that my theatrepots and I will be having and hopefully, working on before I fly off. My mind is working like mad and I'm starting to notice I'm getting the crazy eyes. I am so nervous about this, I don't even know why.

V. I end this post with the reminder of the fact that God knew Royal Holloway would be the place for me. It didn't feel right with Kingston, and it has come to my attention that prestige is a factor when it comes to the quality of what I'll be studying, learning and majoring in. To continue doing both Drama and Creative Writing is such an honour. To know that the school has selected incredible books for our textbooks makes me so psyched, that if you looked at me right now, I'd actually take on the physical shape of a lightning bolt. Like, a literal zig zag. MY MIND IS SO ABSORBENT RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN THIS EXCITED TO LEARN IN A VERY LONG TIME. Sorry for shouting, but I want to delve DEEP, I want to take that PLUNGE, I want to IMMERSE myself in LITERARY GOODNESS. I am so happy to be human, to be taken care of by You.

It is so apt and so satisfying to be at the centre of Your will. I love You Lord. {^_^}

I miss a certain face, a certain look, a certain gesture and touch.
And I don't want to claim it now.

Letter to Self

Heat behind my eyes, but I have to write.

I suspect I was unable to sleep, because I had to write. 

Thank God for the morning - it always arrives and it always rescues. 

Dear Li Ling, 

When you feel like your parents don't love you, they do. Never for a second doubt their self-sacrificial love or even think that you understand it better than them - there are so many facets to love, stop harping on what you think is right. Never undermine the love your lover gives you. But you can choose  how you'd like to reciprocate, and choose whether it is good or destructive for the both of you. Be decisive and firm about who you give your heart to, who you spend your time with. 

When you feel like your parents don't love you, they do. Though they may be the grandparents you've never had, your parents have tried to stay young for you. Don't forget that they have grown old, and as they age, you must mature as well. Time for solid spiritual food, not milk or baby pumpkin-flavoured squash anymore. Feed your mind with good things, ennoble your sexual instinct and embrace denial. 

When you feel like nobody loves you, remember 老师. She is the godma you've always looked up to, and because you are her student, you are also her daughter. It is a privilege, so don't take her for granted. Meet with her, make time for her, be there for her. 

When you miss the world and it passes you by, look to Heaven and remember the One who loves you with a fierce, a gentle, a jealous Love. Love, with a capital L, because He inspires your primary nature - which is Love - and His omnipresence, His everlasting covenant that He has made with you is not what the world can strip away. Be the first to get up and run to the tomb to see Jesus, just like Mary Magdalene, and remember that Jesus first appeared to her instead of the disciples - because she made Him her priority. In all things, know that holiness is better than the gift of tongues. If you have sensed a calling to nurture and to walk with somebody, do it. 

There are so many facets to love. Coldness could be a sort of warmth.

Li Ling, love yourself because He loves you. Give generously and surrender with humility, with reckless and reverent abandonment. Forget the abuse you have experienced. Work on your unforgiveness. 

When you feel like your parents don't love you, they do. 

x

Friend

What does it mean to be there for a friend?

Do you learn to love specific bits of them that hurt you?
Do you listen to them even if you're so tired and you can't differentiate annoyance from Stop?
Do you keep quiet when they manipulate and use you to feel better about themselves?

I think that you've found the one person you will marry.
And it's absolutely terrifying to have to let go of what you've always known to rely on the God everyone tells you about. Yet, you've experienced Him before.
It starts from remembering that little experience. It starts from being a child again, from saying "Jesus loves me and He is good all the time."

But I know how hard it is to abandon all to love God with your heart. When we choose worldly love above spiritual sustenance. It is a sort of sick worship we always guarded ourselves against and never wanted to get ourselves into. But here we are.

What does it mean to be there for a friend?

I hide behind a blog post, because I am faced with an unforgiveness and I want to stay away.

But, we must stop living our lives with excess. I texted you and you may text me back.

I hide behind a text, but I'll be here.

I'd say hello but you don't love me at all.

lack

"Jesus shit" is more hurtful than the boys who called me "fuck face" and "pig trotter legs" years back.

The word "Jesus", its meaning, its identity and its weight should not be put next to the word "shit".

You have cut me and thrust in me a hardness of heart; a once waterlogged heart that has had its tears all squeezed out. 

I am extremely proud of myself today.

I have not cried because of you.

This must mean something.

I hate the way you've justified your shit, as if I'm not worthy of anything. 

a bite of baroque

This morning, I got onto Tumblr and reblogged this picture from Ken's blog!
Baroque painting and architecture has intrigued me ever since I was a little girl. Walking under these fascinating ceilings strips your identity of a 'Singaporean tourist' and immediately instills in you a sense of awe, reminding how human you really are.
I used to wonder: "Who painted these? Did the artists ever fall to their deaths while painting them? How tall was the ladder? Maybe it's fake. But we paid so much to come in. Is heaven really like that?"

Today I started to wonder what inspired this cultural movement.
These large-scaled, luxurious paintings resulted from a 'competition' that dates back all the way to 17th Century Europe between the Catholic church and the Divine Right of Kings (or Protestants). It was especially important to appeal to viewers who looked upon (and up at) these paintings and to fill them with wonder, hoping to provoke their senses and thoughts.
The Church's aim was to portray their message about the truths of God and to win the people's trust over through these paintings. The ceilings and walls would be illustrated with biblical scenes which partly denoted Catholic theoretical dogma, while the Kings would assert their authority in the palaces they ordered to build, which were decorated with murals and other mediums of art.
These murals were painted using the latest 'quadratura' and trompe l'oeil painting techniques, artistic techniques that create the 3D optical illusion of transforming the ceiling and walls of the building to look like it's opening up into the sky.
Discussing the topic of "Catholic Church vs Divine Right of Kings" throws lots of people into a historical debate about where the divine right of kings originated from, who the first King to be ordained by God was and such.

All this really puts me into the mood to look up and relearn the Apologetics, since I've forgotten most of it even after having learned it in Sunday School. I think it's very important to research about your own religion and though Catholics and Christians serve the same God, to find out what the differences between Catholicism and the teachings of Christianity are.
Which also brings me to the point about how people can misunderstand who God really is. In a way, the murals tell us a lot about human pride and the way humans try to 'outdo' each other by asserting their authority through manipulating God's Word. Pride is kind of... colourful though. And very detailed indeed.

Wild Dove, A Sonnet

I have grown to adopt the habit of borrowing a miser's envious sadness;
Letting things become inappropriate, letting purpled thoughts stain love.
Yet, I know this: The very core of my own affection is pulsing madness,
Though your presence has strangely visited me like a wild dove.

Having fed the subconscious mind's desire has disrupted this soul's peace;
When the reasons for your melancholia and charming ways I've ached to reap.
The Christian's virtues must overrule and the lust of the flesh must decrease:
Yet I may have been settling for second best all this while, waltzing through life asleep.

It is unfair to be watching you with a lazy eye
(It rests upon what has always seemed to give it rest.)
It is painful to deny the way my dream-state self wakes to cry -
It takes a pounding and a bruising blow to the chest.

Yet, I know this: The very heart of this sonnet reeks of raging madness;
I must starve the habit of borrowing a miser's illogical, reckless sadness.

you

You were surprisingly emotional today.
'You' is not meant to imply anything romantic.
I have never felt lonely around you.
I saw your face change from the corner of my eye the other night.
It was embarrassing, but I did feel beautiful.

I am very thankful, and I will leave this thought here so that it will not eat into my life.

darkness

There have been nights when I've felt terribly alone and I want to cry, but I suppress it.
Because I know it doesn't do me any good. It is a way I try to discipline myself, knowing I will be comforted in the end or in a few hour's time. I say, "You are lonely now but you won't be lonely tomorrow."
Still, somehow when I speak to Deb, everything I've put at the back of my mind just pours out. Having listened to Deb's voice over Skype even made me want to burst into tears. But we laugh about how my Shakespearean Portia is really from Hong Kong instead.

I've been practically thrown into limbo, only thing that it's not over a boy this time.
These are university applications.
My faith has taken a beating and I am still being ground and crushed like an olive. A very, very distressed olive. Three schools have rejected me and three replies are pending. I have one unconditional offer which I am very grateful for, but Ron says I shouldn't settle for second best, since it's not an acclaimed drama school and that I can always try again next year.
I am not exactly terrified of going back with six rejections because I'll probably join a youth theatre group, teach tuition and help out loads at Theatre Compass over the one year. I'll get to watch plenty of plays and work much harder on monologues. I know what I'm going to do.
I've decided that I will definitely apply for the auditions again - this time with my own hard-earned money.
But the time is now. Because I have done no less than my best at these auditions. And adding to the fact that God's grace has truly been enough for me.
Being here also makes me realise and understand why my parents or even friends think I'm too laidback when it comes to grades or any competition for that matter. I feel that I fit in perfectly in terms of 'competitiveness' here. Do you know what it feels like to be around people who are both passionate about what they do yet follow their own pace of learning and execute great work? Watching Anna and Ron do what they do and living comfortably makes me incredibly happy, which is probably why I like being around them both so much. I can be quite auntie when I want to chope seats. Other than that, life's cool. But I am not going to stop challenging myself and my abilities as an actor or learner.
Which is probably why I dread all this competition with other auditionees, because I don't like comparing myself according to other people or how well they've fared. As a thespian, I think that I am good - but I can be better. That's all I want the RADA panel to know; I am willing to learn, be broken down and then built up again.
Train me, mould me, teach me.
I truly enjoyed my audition at RADA. One auditioner said that choosing to do Emily from Emily of Emerald Hill was a clever move and that I was a valuable actor because I am at the same time, a singer and I (sort of) know how to play an instrument.
I hope that when they review my profile from the list of auditionees, my ID photo will be smiling so hard at them that they can't look away and let me join them.

Yet I am reminded of what my attitude should, first and foremost, be before God.
To ask Him to train me, mould me and to teach me.
I took a break from this post to pray and I remembered the words someone had said while praying for me: "Li Ling I sense that you are walking through darkness. Sometimes there is no light, but remember His rod and staff will guide you."
I immediately flipped my notebook open, where I had taken notes down from the New Year sermon.
It was based on Psalm 23.

"Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff,
they comfort me."

I noted the pastor's words down: "the rod is the sceptre of the King and the staff is His weapon - both of which are symbols of God's authority". It also shows that "the psalmist knew the real presence of God in those low moments in life, that the Holy Spirit is what tells you Christ is real". Because "Christianity is experiential". Because it is of an "unanswerable witnessing", which is also "the infallible proof of Christianity that testifies you are a child of God".
I have been trying to find the words to describe and to make meaning of what I've been going through.
The word is "darkness". For me, this is aptly and surely the season of darkness.
Somehow everything falls into place - yesterday I went to the Bath City Church to ask for a prayer request and one thing that the man who had prayed for me said to me was "God said 'Don't worry about the darkness, I'll take care of it.'
Besides the fact that I am quite wary of charismatic Christians (heh), it was something that stood out a lot to me. It was something I needed to hear because that summarized the exact attitude I should adopt in the midst of these auditions, rejections and acceptances.
He also asked God to give me the gift of evangelism. He said I can use my skill set as an actor to do wondrous things for God. This was something I had thought long and hard about, and I'd really like to achieve these things.
I am simply amazed at how He has worked and once again, met me in the desert.
(Please don't think I'm being preachy or showing off how 'rooted' I am in my religion. He sees what I do in secret and I am ashamed of many things.)

In the end, I will accept everything that comes. I will work through anything I'm given, but keeping in mind the One who has brought me here in the first place.
Life doesn't revolve around these auditions, but when I stand before the gates of heaven, my name better be in that beautiful, rewarding book of Life.

breakthrough

"Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.""
- Romans 12:19

Yesterday night Deb slept over and we did tie dye strips. We also stayed up till 5 in the morning and she, being passionate as always when it comes to directing, helped me to choose and pace all four contemporary/classical monologues.
No director would have sat down with me for five hours, going through the character's every single intention, motivation and words of the scripts we chose. Pride really isn't an issue when it comes to choosing your monologues - I think as an actor, you need all the help you can get, especially advice and guidance from that of a H3 Literature student who has read far more plays and texts than I have. The entire experience was every sort of humble; it was the most fulfilling acting homework I have ever been engaged in with a director with such a sense of objectivity and function.
We broke the character of Emily of Emerald Hill down together. And you really can't say you understand the character of Emily just because 1) you know the play, 2) you've read it. It is not by mere description that Emily can be visualized or made come to life. Emily is a character that must be felt, and a sense of history and knowledge of the Peranakan culture. (I am so thankful for having learnt about all this through internship, and for meeting Stella Kon herself.)
One cannot do enough research.
Though I'm a little concerned with presenting Emily to the five British audition panels, I have a feeling that learning and speaking in an assertive but spunky Peranakan accent will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Because Emily speaks so much about home, about family, about Singapore. Her matriarchal, no-nonsense but humane personality is, safely put, multi-layered - a character that reminds me so much of History From The Hills and how every descendant spoke of their ancestor, whether Peranakan or not, which such admiration and how they showed their individual "labours of love".

This afternoon I plonked myself down at the Woodlands Library to finish both Twelth Night and Emily of Emerald Hill and to familiarise myself with the chosen monologues.
I found myself getting goosebumps as I finished reading the last page of Emily, and I found myself fidgeting less and sitting in silence to ponder about how much she had to go through to learn, to even gain an "I love you" from her daughter Doris through a letter.
It was the same feeling from last night, when revelations about this character hit me as Deb and I both revelled in the entire process of breaking down this character. 'Thank you' is not enough.
Before today, all I felt was anxiety and fear. I had to sit and listen to the most horrible, venomous words I haven't heard for a long, long time.

On the bus, it suddenly dawned on me that the Lord had avenged me.
I have people who love me. Who sacrifice their time and effort to see me through these auditions, making sure it goes smoothly for me. My parents, my colleagues, my closest friends, and Ron.
I realised that these people have been set apart and set aside to fulfill His plans - I for them and them for me.
And this one thought had me smiling with a tear-streaked face as I alighted the bus and walked home.
Dramatic... But these were tears of joy, because even if I had strayed from good counsel, one thing my friends told me remained throughout these few weeks - the Lord will walk you through this; He doesn't abandon us.
Even when I thought He'd be entirely disappointed in me, He lifts me up when I am faced with naysayers who tell me going this far to pursue this degree is not worth it.
He never promised that I wouldn't be afflicted. But He tells me to not fear my enemies, to not be bothered by what they say and if they want to slap my right cheek, offer them my left.

Look where that got me.
I am at peace, because You go before me, and You shield my way.

where / driftwood / water

I was supposed to be at Destination: INK tonight reading my poems, but I rejected the offer in the end.
I want to be home.
I'm going to be away for a month and a half and I don't even care if I've been trying not to be overly anxious about how I haven't memorized all my monologues yet... I just want to be home.
I will always want a roof over my head even though I'm naturally adventurous/fleeting/playful.
I know I leave. I know I can't stay in one place or go through routine. This is not the life for me - it's not even about the fact that my family has wealth and I have the chance to travel. No it's not. It's about every single thing, the most important aspect being the people I love.
And it doesn't mean I don't appreciate them but I need to go.
Leave, leaving, left but I'll always come back.
This mere month may change me and the way I look at things but the experiences I've had and the people I've met and interacted with over these seven months won't be robbed from me.
I am upset with myself and thoroughly disappointed, to have done "not-so-well" for the previous week's shoot.
Kept telling myself it's just something to learn from but why do simple words stay in this head of mine for so long.
Now I'll never get the chance back to watch myself grow and to do better at this job. It's harsh on myself, this mindset of mine, but the fact that I have to do the leaving and the fact that I had to go through the inevitable committing of those mistakes makes me angry.
It's quiet anger, but it's still anger.

These past few months have been the best I've ever had in terms of working life.
There is nothing fun in the leaving but it does feel good to officially have had my last day of work. There is a ton of relief in the leaving as well, since I have been begging myself and circumstances to let me have time to myself, to play, to train.


"A double meaning for a person who strives to give a double kind of love."
I wish you were with me in England and that I could lose you there among the crowds or watch you fall through a deep, cavernous valley, or even some place off an Irish cliff where a knight once lived.
I have dreams for you and I but when marriage is all about "tax benefits" and when you want to show me that we live in a world that waters down vows... where does the good go.
Because I'm good. I'm good to go. But perhaps, it's not with you. And even though this reality mirrors a sort of impending sadness that doesn't confront but creeps up, I will embrace the pain and continue to sing throughout this season of life.


It is March, and I can finally pin down the word that has been echoing in my head all this while.
The word is "where".
With a fullstop, not a question mark.
Where.
Because I am inexplicably drained.
I feel like driftwood; I'm being swept away and broken on rocks by this churning, aggressive tide called life.
Yet, Your love calms storms and You will show me a fresh new way between how You command the nature of crashing waves and how water itself is also made to flow and trickle gently. And You will give me rest again on lush, green banks where the glistening soft dew mimics clarity.

The Villanelle

Tonight I started studying a book I borrowed from the library, The Making of a Poem, edited by Mark Strand and Eavan Boland.
I have just finished making notes about the nature of a villanelle and am surprised that a villanelle the book featured is one of my favourite poems - Elizabeth Bishop's One Art. 
A villanelle is a strict poetic form, in which many poets have used to 'harp' on themes of particularly, loss. 
Besides drama, poetry has become one of the arts I will always want to drown myself in. 
I believe I have found my voice in this form, and I want to study it and use it and make it part of my career.
I want to be a travelling poet - just like Sierra DeMulder and Sarah Kaye. 
I want to have my own session of sharing at BluJaz. Perhaps I'd like to perform at places that are more 'distinguished' in the future, but BluJaz was the first place I fell in love with poetry all over again. I want to hold my first show there. And I'll make sure that there are enough chairs to go around, baskets of fries are on me, and my best friends get front row seats. Pay for the alcohol yourself. 

The other night I went to Sentosa with Jon and his army friends, and I crashed midway.
Boys can talk about army forever.
You were on my subconscious mind the whole night, and the only one my eyes longed to see, my ears longed to hearing you speak. Speaking with me. Looking at me. The night was long, five minutes of sleep felt like an hour.
Missing you has been a thing I try to get accustomed to, but it is a painful thing to consciously do.
It feels so natural to do everything with you; to go on adventures with, to expand and share (dirty) humour with, to be elephants with.
The state of which I picked my universities was of reverie; finally dreaming and finally seeing that through.
Yet when I think of you, I am plunged into a dream and waking up will be hard to do, but at least we wake up together. And when I do, my eyes will be looking into yours and yours alone.
How much I love you, I cannot put into words.
I know you'll be with me till the end.
Um. (blush)

honesty

"I have many things to do, I'll complete them today."

A lie I tell myself whenever I am anxious and kanchiong to finish my tasks. In the end, I do so little.
Though I did manage to finish my workload yesterday. I like how I have the freedom to procrastinate here, and that I am allowed to take my time to finish something till I think it's perfect.
I have been stressed about this personal statement I must submit soon, which is always at the back of my mind when I come to work.
Internship will end soon and I will miss this office and the people when I am gone.
Ken says these people like me so much, it is true, and I like them a lot too.
I started to miss this whole place when walking on that rocky dirt path towards Song Lin Building this morning.
I wanted to take a picture but my camera is scratched.
I wanted to rub my face in the dirt and cry.

Today I am emotional, but composed.
Not that being composed has done anything for me.
Life isn't professional.
I've tried to be, but I haven't lived ever since.

Dear you,
I'm sorry I tell you that the answer to life is God.
I'm sorry I cannot show you the answer clearly, because I can't even tell you how real this God has been to me.
I love you very much and because I do, I want you to meet Him.
But I know it is my answer, and you seek a "different answer".
I will be a friend and be by your side.
I'm sorry I tried to fix you, I know I can't. I wish I had words that could persuade you to open your heart, but I must realise that sometimes opening can be painful after we've been closed for so long.
And I have no reason to tell you not to hurt, or to direct how you should feel.
I cannot fill this void that has been set in your heart. Whether it was set or formed, I don't know.
You do not act, and I thank you for simply being you.

Liars can be honest too.
When they are, they are very, very beautiful.
Lord will you hear this cry. It is a soft one, but it is a cry.