feet on the dash



I'm chewing on some pieces of dragon fruit. A part of me is nervous about tomorrow and another part of me is filled with anticipation. So I'm chewing harder.

I'm not fond of public speaking and it only makes it harder when I'll be sharing to a group of leaders—one of whom told me that I should remove thunderbolts from my designs because of its ‘satanic origins’. I asked him for references and he gave me AC/DC and KISS. Cool image marketing strategy, I thought. But he had other ideas.

Today, we received a mail from my grandma’s best friend. She wrote on tiny blue-lined yellow papers. She filled us in about her Disneyworld visit, her grandson, Ryan, and her casino adventure.

And how my grandma was the first to teach her the art of lipstick application. That’s really important.

My grandma loved seeing girls all prepped up and would be quick to tell me if I looked scruffy. When my mom made a huge deal about me tweezing my eyebrows (she prefers the 80s bush look), it was my grandma who affirmed my good taste. She had tattooed eyebrows that turned brown-green when she died. Still, she affirmed me—although I think she secretly hoped that the new eyebrows would bring home a boyfriend.

But what I like best about the letter is that she wrote, “This is life”. This is life. This is Life. There’s so much truth in that. It’s not about how she died, but how she lived. And that she lived.

My cat just swallowed some tinsel.

in my bag



They say that the contents of your bag say a lot about you*. So I’ve decided to empty it all out here to be probed. I thought pictures would be too messy so I illustrated the goods (from memory) instead.

Here’s the list:
1. A very tacky touristy pen, but it’s my favorite writing companion. It’s a floaty pen with a tram cruising up and down the streets of Melbourne.
2. iPod. Last song played: ‘Love and Some Verses’ by Iron & Wine.
3. Used tissue. Not entirely hygienic I know, but it’s not that dirty either.
4. Lip balm. Raspberry flavored. After applying, #3 will come in handy.
5. RM5 Ikea notebook. I spray-painted blue thunderbolts on the cover. For thoughts, ideas, doodles, lists and addresses.
6. Trusty Explosions in the Sky mix CD. It comes in handy when my cubicle is too quiet or when everyone in the office is stressed.
7. Mints or gum. Mostly chewable mints. Refillable metal container.
8. Pay slips. Not a lot, but alright I guess.
9. Ace of spades. Never know when you need it, especially in a poker game… or as a bookmark.
10. Broken pieces of Pocky/Rocky sticks (depending on where you’re from). Chocolate or strawberry flavored. The best snack ever invented.

I don’t know how much that says about me, but one thing is for sure: I'm a liar. #9 and #10 don’t belong there. I don’t can’t play poker and I don’t keep crumbs in my bag. But I'm crazy about Pocky/Rocky sticks.

Ok, I will throw #3 away now.



*No idea who said it, to be honest.

about rain



I was about to post something about the rainy weather. About how it’s cold and I’m enjoying it. About how it made me want to stuff headphones into my ears or turning it up to eleven. About how I then decided to lock myself in the shoe closet and shoot a picture for the growing picture project. Or about my sister at the Jens Lekman gig.

Or about visiting another life group and trying my best to fit in (and failing). And about how I have the new Do Make Say Think CD before it’s even out.

But then a friend sent me a link and introduced me to Rob Bell. It ruined my attempts at being shallow. But rain makes more sense now.

I’m looking forward to the next downpour and a chance to listen even when my ears feel naked without the headphones.

littles



I was at the children’s home on Sunday afternoon and unlike any other day, this time not one of the kids was in sight. It turned out that it was their nap time. It was surreal and quiet, the resident volunteers were ironing the uniforms or folding the laundry, the television was turned off and the curtains were drawn. A tap was leaking. The fridge was purring. The ceiling fan was making its usual rounds.

While waiting for the rest to arrive, I took the chance to photograph little plastic figurines in their shelves. I found the green-eyed gorilla especially intriguing. I named him The Jealous Boyfriend. And then there was The Brave Hippo. I don’t know which kid set the scene up, but I love the one-scene narration-thing. The kids love the hippopotamus.



Then I found these little grocery lists securely fitted underneath the glass of the glass-paneled table. There’s something about finding grocery lists… it’s almost like snooping through the fridge or the dustbin. Or like the work of a detective or a private investigator.

Here’s the breakdown with English translation:

- Sabun cuci kain (laundry detergent)
- Susu powder (milk powder)
- Susu tin (evaporated milk)
- Milo (I love this, I could eat this on its own)
- Nescafe
- Beras (rice)
- Jem (jam, usually strawberry)
- Kaya (a spread made from coconut, eggs, sugar and pandan flavoring)
- Gula (sugar)
- Sardien [sic] (sardine)
- Clorox
- Ubat mop lantai (floor detergent or literally, medicine mop floor)
- Syampoo (shampoo)

What’s missing is ghee. They never run out of it.

But the silence did not last. One kid spotted me from his room. He wriggled and stood up on his bed to get my attention. And he did get it. When a resident volunteer walked pass, he’d burry his face into his pillow. It’s routine by now. He’d pretend to be asleep and I would pretend to be looking around like I was lost. But I think the resident volunteer knew and was only playing along.

We had fun while it lasted.

And I finally have a new template to play with.

the earth is warmer when you laugh


I spent my New Year’s Eve watching Garden State (again) on DVD while stuffing my face with spaghetti. And it seemed so perfect to be reminded again that this is it, this is life and that is all we have. Then I got dressed and headed to church for the night service. I was late (again) but only half of the sanctuary was filled and that’s fine too. It was a very intimate service—by that I don’t mean to use ‘intimate’ as an excuse or cover-up for the lack of a better word. It was informal and our pastor left the preaching to the people.

One by one, they took their secret longings and visions to the stage. I don’t know if open-mike gigs could ever be this inspiring, but you know something is right when you see the church sharing their dreams with one another. They were calling something that is not as though it were. They were spilling bits and pieces of their humanity out there, unashamed like little children. Naked as we came.

With that, the midnight barbeque shindig later made more sense. All that sweating over the pit, talks over the semi-cooked chicken drumsticks, marshmallow burnt lips, oily fingers and carbon-filled bellies seemed worth it. And it still is.