Thursday, November 30, 2006

Half empty, half full

Everytime I think I'm getting lost in the hustle of things and need refocussing, I read Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I think it's because from all my spoon-feeding years of Malaysian education, it's a hard habbit to kick getting everything sent straight to my gut instead of going through digestion. I'm not saying that Purpose Driven Life is not a good read. On the contrary, it's concise, convenient (it's broken up into different areas of life) and most importantly, correct in sound teaching. I get lost a lot and need someone or something to point my toes back in the right direction. It's not just men who don't ask for directions and was it women who couldn't read maps? Sometimes in my eagerness I step right off the path and into the thicket and wonder why people aren't following. Or in my myopic state, I walk into a lion's path without realising the danger I'm in. Too often I worry that I'm overdoing things. Too often I worry that perhaps the world, or even other Christians are right when they say I'm too extreme in character, in views, in life. I worry more about being overzealous than I do being a spectator. I mean, look at the Pharisees. They were an overzealous lot and no one wants to be like them. They had good intentions but bad motives. Everytime I go out for a meal with people, pray for family and friends, talk to guys, call a friend, I question my motives. I don't want to live a half life, you see. Even when I'm tired, let me be tired so that when something happens during my tired state, God is given all the glory. Heck, this isn't some super spiritual ideology. There's no shame in being tired and there's no shame admitting that to God. In fact it's when we don't admit we're tired, needy, hungry or lost when that displeases God. When we see ourselves as suffcient, as good enough, as complete, without God, when we really have got no idea at all. You know what? It's when I'm overworked, full to the brim with activities, meeting people and raring to go when I am most satisfied in God. I believe God would be less glorified in me if I were to try be someone else. I guess I've always thought I had rough edges and I've always thought the rough edges had to go before I was on the right track to becoming Christ like. But I think if I were a shape, I don't think God made me a circle hence, I have edges and trying to rub those edges out would not only hurt myself, it would be denying who God made me to be. Some scatter seed, not stopping for it to take root. Others come along and nurture the seed. Still others come and help the seed mature, becoming plants, which then produce more seed to be scattered. I think I need to stop feeling guilty that I don't want to stay put. That as much as I want spiritual fruit to grow and religious nuts to dry, I don't think I'm built to stay. Although, if God were to change my heart and purpose and one day I find that I actually want to stay then I would feel most satisfied in Him when I stay. But for now, my heart is restless. I don't know how long I will be in KL for. I didn't know how long I would be in London for. 5 years went by very quickly. Christmas is coming up. My course finishes in July. Every opportunity is an opportunity to share the gospel. I don't know when my time will come to an end in KL but it would only have been half a life if I didn't be true to the person I am.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Scary blogging

I feel like a spy. I have at least another week to wait before Internet connection is up and running at my place so am in an Internet cafe once again. Instead of going to my usual place in Bangsar, I decided to browse round Brickfields since I needed somewhere more 'central' than Megamall. Whilst strategically fairly central, the need to use a bus to get there makes it a slightly less attractive prospective, especially for someone who does not have much time on her hands. this place in Brickfields is scary but I'm determined to get my money's worth - consider it a Chinese thing. People are gaming and making scary boom-boom machine gun noises, the place smells like somewhere the police might want to reasonably look into and the dodgy lighting makes me feel like I'm a Soviet spy although I've neither ever met a soviet spy nor been to the Soviet Union. I studied Soviet Law though. Does that count? Anyway, being the boring Saturday afternoon that it is, a bit of imagination was thrown in to make my life not so mundane.

I was just on MSN but no one else was on. Strange. And then I remembered the time difference between here and England; it's 9am there. My MSN pals are probably asleep after being online til 4 in the morning. We are the nocturnals that wander the corridors of cyberspace. I've got a 'party/dinner' thing tonight. Actually locals call it pot-bless/luck but SMACC calls it SMACC team. I still don't know what to bring... my diet the last 4 days have comprised coke and mushrooms. How dodgy does that sound??!!!?? But they're NOT magic mushrooms and cocain rather coka-cola with extra sugar (is that possible?) and straw mushrooms stir fried with more freind onions. I think my insides could look like a war zone at the rate I'm going. Speaking of coke, I cut my hand trying to open a 1.5 litre coke bottle. The cap wouldn't open, I tried calling physics whiz Chris to see if he could help but his phone was turned off, so I dived into the task armed with a pair of scissors and two knives. I managed to force the bottle open but at cost to my hand. the knife slipped and not so neatly put a gash between my thumb and fore finger. Any lower and I really might have needed stitches as the membrane between the two would have been sliced. Reminds me of the time I cut myself against a jagged tin I had just opened. Sliced my right forefinger to the bone and could see the cavity between skin and muscle/ tissue/ bone. I remember thinking it was pretty cool at the time but I think it was because I had gone into shock.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Upsy-daisy

Narrator's voice: This is a story of three little boys. Their names were Tim-tims, Chrissy and Marky. They lived at the bottom of a well.

"What did they live on?"

They lived on treacle.

"But why did they live at the bottom of the well?"

(ignoring annoying voice that is asking too many questions the narrator can't answer) And so, these three little boys were trying to draw...

"What were they trying to draw?"

Treacle.

"Where did they draw the treacle from?"

Insert Mad Hatter: You can draw water from a water well, so why can't you draw treacle from a treacle well?

Yes, my name may not be Alice but often times, I believe I live in her world. I would even take advice advice from a caterpillar if I ever stopped to listen to one...

So, life is nicely turning the right way up again. I am managing to get more sleep (hurrah!!!), have bought more Christmas cards and am eating well (always a good sign). I'll be flying home to see my folks for a 9-day break over Christmas hols and that's something to look forward too. Even more so, my (even more brief) stay in London; I'm trying to stretch it to accomodate 2 weekends. In the midst of pondering the wonders of fried rice, oyster pancakes and crispy noodles (can you tell it's almost dinner time?) I think life is good. There are days when my heart feels like it has shattered into a million pieces, my legs are cramped and my head feels like a mallet is pounding it but hey, when daybreak comes, after a good night's sleep, I find my worries are secure in Christ, I can still walk and am still blessed with coherent thought. There are always two roads diverged in a yellow wood (or so says Robert Frost) and we can either choose to be more and more cynical and upset at the world, which strangely enough, makes us more and more hubristic because then the world revolves around us or we can take the road less travelled on and see where that takes us.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

New Laptop!!!!!! Inter alia...

Found on Google

This will be the last time (hopefully) that I'll have to ever, ever, cross a city with a train, bus and on foot for Internet access. I have (kind of) decided which laptop/ notebook (whatever) I want to buy and it should become my property by the end of the week! Yipee! Only, I have to wait til my landlady installs the actual internet connection which is -doh- important too but as long as I have my laptop, IO can gaze lovingly at it and think of all the things it can do for me. Muahahahahahaha. My new laptop even has a camera so peeps on MSN can see me brushing me teeth and see the food I eat here. How cool is that?????? I have just sent off an email full of woe and melancholy so this blog is going to relieve the caffeine induced side of me. I nearly threw my pillow out of the window a few nights ago because someone was singing using a megaphone of sorts at 5 am!!!!! But I remembered that it was against the rules to throw things out of the window. The problem studying law is all you remember are rules and then, fun kind of flies away :( My window is sooo big though that I can easily walk through it from my bed. I actually shut it the first few nights because now that I know that sleep walking with me is a possibility, I didn't want to end my life on the concrete, skull crushed and finding out I have no brain.

In fact, life here has become quite dull so I have taken to spicing up my neurocells, happy cells and whatever other cells that need replenishing and plumping up after losing quality, quantity, elasticity and general perkiness. Went browsing round bookstores and am alarmed that books such as 301 More Things to do to have Fun at Work appeals to me. This must certainly mean that my life has exited the main motorway and gone down 'Boring' street. Other books I came across (which caught my attention) included The Diary of a Not 'It' Girl. Yup, that's me. But I'm sure my diary is much more interesting although I didn't stop to read hers. Enough to catch my eye, not enough to catch my hand. Aha. Speaking of diaries, I had one ages ago. Oh dear. I've just realised that now, when I say ages ago, I can honestly mean ages and not use the word as an exaggeration.

What this life is full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?

Anyway, I hid my diary on top of the dog's kennel. There, a bit of Debbie trivia for you. It didn't last very long; I had too much to write and hiding my book, fishing it out, then rehiding it, took up too much time. I had living to do. The third book I came across was Pregnancy for Dummies. Other than the question, "How?" and by that I don't mean technically, I do wonder, do people really need help books on how to be pregnant? I always assumed one just was or was not. Maybe, there's another part to growing up I haven't understood yet. Fourth book was by far my favourite; in series There's Treasure Everywhere of Calvin and Hobbes, Calvin says, "I don't think you should have to do something unless you're enthusiatic about it." Ditto.


Other things that have been crammed into an area known as the brain, in which although Einstein used only 3 per cent, my pastor has apparently used 85 per cent (of the depleted brain, I quote), included, for some time now, the hubristic nature of human beings. We pulvorise forests and build concrete jungles in their place. We abort life flippantly yet demand rights to making one. We encourage our friends to step on others to get what they want yet when people step on us to get what they want, we climb onto moral high ground and shake the finger. According to the book of Romans, we're divided into roughly 3 categories; the hedonist, the judgementalist, the legalist. All of then have fallen away, all of them do not seek God, all of them are evil, even the best of them. The hedonist doesn't even acknowledge God. He builds his rose-bush walled palace and lolls around feasting, drinking and indulging himself in his every whim and fancy. The judgmentalist stands and points. Grace comes looking for him and calls him home but he shrugs it off, and yells and points at the hedonist, demanding punishment for all the baaad things the hedonist has committed. He even has a list so that he can prove he was in thr ight all the long. Instead of choosing grace, he follows self-righteousness. Then there's the legalist. He has fallen down a huge ravine and is trying to build his way home. Year after year after year he toils and he has finally managed to build enough rubble to take 5 steps. Grace offers to take him home and he glares at grace because grace is slowing down his work. Grace looks at the rubble the legalist has proudly collected. This will get me home, he crows. Grace looks at the 5 step worth of rubble and notices that the legalist has 5 million to go. But the legalist is already at work, piling up rubble... (stuff I've learnt from book I am reading by Max Lucado, entitled In the Grip of Grace. Will write more when headache is gone).

Friday, November 10, 2006

Tommy and me

Running out of time

I sooooooo need a computer. Wait. No. I need a computer with internet connection. I need a computer with broadband internet connection!!!!!! It's so depressing sitting in the only internet cafe I know of that exists in this place called KL. I need to take a tube and a bus that almost never comes before I get to my destination and then muscle my way through lots of people who also want to use the internet. At this point, I don't care. AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes. Headache is overuling any smidget of sanity I might have regrown during my sleep, only for it to be smashed again when the junk of a bus doesn't arrive. Actually, not the bus driver's fault. More the bus owner. They're certainly not out to win our hearts, souls or affection. More like our money. Can you believe that they don't supply change so whether I have RM5 or RM1, I have to put the whole lot into the **** machine and how much is the fare? RM0.90!!!!! Argh. Like snarling at the bus driver will do me any good. I could feel my arteries bulging through the roof. As I chose to sit by the window, passers-by should hardly be surprised if the window pane suddenly went red with my blood gushing out from an already compressed head. Bla bla bla. I was going to come in and write such a nice blog about how I found this bookshop (actually Tim took me) where they actually sold Piper and Packer and Lewis and Grudem. I nearly cried with happiness and nearly hyperventilated with joy but remembered that I was in Malaysia where people would more readily dump me in a psycho ward than applaud my individuality.

I will get a computer. I will get a computer. *Sniffle* I want Tommy back. I want to see his furry face and heavy jowls and bury my face in his smelly coat even though it gave me hives for week. I miss his doggy breath and his drippy nose and I don't care how disgusting that sounds. Oh Tommy boy, when will I see you again?

Monday, November 06, 2006

Going home... again

Having spent almost 2 weeks in London, climaxing at Carly's wedding yesterday, I feel ready to go home to KL. Am actually missing the dudes in KL, the late night dinners and Chinese soaps, despite wallowing gloriously in sarcasm galore here and almost perfect weather (10 to 16 degrees is personally ideal). Did swing dancing with Bubba and 80s-style clubbing, which was hilarious. L and I tried to get CD and IF to dance but as they were stubbornly upholding their wallflower-power, we went and danced next to them at the risk of embarrassing ourselves. The wedding also gave me the chance to be 'reunited' with a few people I had not met for ages namely Bubba and Christy. Christy and I went paintballing more than a year ago for Daniel's birthday and he's the only person, thanks to a camera phone, who has proof that I hugged a Rottweiler (Tommy) which was almost as big as I was; my head could have fitted into his jowls quite easily. Will try post the pic up someday when I find the link but that day, although past, was one of the most fun in my life.

I've LAG to thank for letting me stay with them the entire trip; huge blessing and and advance thank you to LNA for when I come to stay in January.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Possessive

You Should Drive a Corvette

You don't just like to drive on the road, you like to own it. You live to intimidate other drivers with your car's muscle power!

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Snow dreams

I wish I were a polar bear. They seriously have everything going for them; fur, claws, teeth... They only wear white and even when that gets stained, they have discovered some magic dust far above the prestige Vanish offers to get rid of those stains, leaving their coats brilliantly white. The real McCoy. They never need mascara or eye liner because their windows to the world are as deep as the blackest night. They don't need gloss or lippy because they have their steak rare, actually not even rare, rather raw, all the time. Their lips are black yet no one accuses them of being gothlike or antisocial. Their bad manners are applauded and sent round the world, their right to annoyance and violence protected and their glutoney sated. They swim, fish, surf on snow and slide down ice. They sleep for half their lifetime and are sufficiently updated with omega 3. We've not heard anyone complain of their fishy breath because, if they did, they probably wouldn't live to tell the tale. They lumber and no one says, "Walk upright," they growl and no one says, "Behave." They swipe with their paws, irritated at some non existant housefly and no one says, "Patience." They see killer whales and leopard seals and penguins. It would be grand to live the life of a polar bear and be a real snow queen.