lifesong memoirs.

Epilogue: snippets of solitude.

2010-07-09T20:10:00.014+08:00

Thank you Lifesong Memoirs, for being a faithful record of my memories and sentiments in the last two years.
~Your Beloved Author

It's amazing how a mere blog can take a life of its own. It sounds strange, but every new post I write is somehow informed by those that were written before. I guess that is what motivated me to bring this to an end.

I love Lifesong Memoirs like my own - I did write it after all ... And yet, it is time for a fresh start.

I am still in the process of figuring this all out, but I will now be doing that here: snippets of solitude.
.

It's Time: The End?

2010-07-02T22:15:00.011+08:00

“I have this theory that your body goes through puberty in its teens, and the mind goes through puberty in your twenties”
~Zach Braff

It has been a long wait, but I guess now is a good time as any to write another post. It has been almost a year-and-a-half since I first wrote in "Lifesong Memoirs" and I thought it would be nice to take time to reflect on the journey thus far.

It should come as no surprise that my original intent in undertaking this blog was to document the milestones and personal changes that occurred after my decision to move from my hometown, Perth. My loyal readers (whoever you are) have been witness to numerous personal changes on my part. There are too many to list here, but it goes without saying that I am a pale reflection of the man I was two years ago. I would even go so far to say that I am more of a man than I was two years ago. The journey has been long, hard and difficult but I would do it all again in the blink of an eye. I have come to accept many of the changes that have been going on inside me and the direction which I may (or may not) be heading towards.

My life journey is far from over and my personality and character are continually being shaped and molded. That being said, I have come to the conclusion that I have, in some ineffable way, fulfilled the original intent for starting this blog.

And so it is time... This post signals the final chapter of Lifesong Memoirs. I thank you, whoever you are, for bothering to take the time to read this blog. I know that it can be quite a chore to read sometimes, especially given my affinity to write metaphorically. Nonetheless, I hope you have found some enjoyment or insight from it along the way.

Goodbye dear reader. I bid thee farewell for the second time round.

~Fin? (The End?)

A Personal Idiosyncrasy: No More 3x5's.

2010-03-01T03:58:00.032+08:00

"You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes - it brought me back to life... You'll be with me next time I go outside - no more 3x5's."
~John Mayer

Having been in Geneva for the last two months has been great. At the same time, the experience has brought to attention a personal idiosyncrasy that has caused more than one raised eyebrow among my peers.

The idiosyncrasy is as follows: "I don't have a designated photo-taking camera." In truth, I have made a conscious decision not to carry a camera around during my travels. My rationale is that, "I don't like living my life through a camera lense."

Let me explain... I was formerly an avid photo-taker in the not so distant past. After a series of events, however, I came to the realisation that I was too preoccupied with taking photos that I neglected to "enjoy the experience of living".

For example, I would be too busy ensuring that I had "the perfect photo" that I neglected enjoying the experience of being in a certain place at a certain time. In short, I barred myself from making a mental photo, or alternatively, maximising a mental impression of the experience. It was like unconsciously hiding myself from the world - behind the safety of a camera lense.

I confess that I still desire to have photo-documented momentos of my experiences - which is why I've made a concerted effort to collect all the photos from my fellow interns (which will be released on Facebook soon).

I guess that begs the question... "Is it selfish of me - to want my cake and eat it too?"

The WHO, Geneva & Europe: 12 Realisations.

2010-02-08T05:08:00.008+08:00

Greetings dedicated reader.

First off, I'd like to apologise for the lack of blog updates during the past month. Wayyyyy too much has been happening. As you already know, I am in the midst of intern-ing for the World Health Organization in Geneva. In a two-word nutshell it has been FRIKKIN AWESOME!!! I haven't got much time, so I'll try to update you on my time here in Geneva/Europe within the space of 12 realisations.

...

1. Fulfilling life goals, like "working for the WHO", can be a whole lot of fun. I'd highly recommend it.

2. Walking along the streets of Geneva at midnight is like walking along the streets of a dark, scary Film Noir city - such as Sin City or Gotham City. I'd highly un-recommend that.

3. Residing in Apartment 44 on the 4th floor of the address, 4 Route des Acacias, isn't as unlucky as some Cantonese people would lead you to believe.

4. Working for the WHO is (almost) like working for any other large, government bureaucracy.

5. Australians are apparently the only English-speaking people in the world who use the term "heaps of" when alluding to large quantities of stuff.

6. Whoever knew that sledding down the Alps - at high speeds, along poorly lit slopes, near the edge of a cliff, in the middle of the night - could actually be fun?

7. Watching snow fall from the sky in real-life is just as pretty as it looks in Christmas movies.

8. Consuming copious amounts of paella, tapas and sangria in three consecutive days is a very, very bad idea.

9. I want to learn Spanish and live in Barcelona. Nuff said.

10. Eating macarons with a chocolate ganache filling is pure delectable decadence ... ME WANT MORE!!! OM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!

11. I am perfectly capable of cooking an excellent Thai green curry for other people to enjoy.

12. At the risk of sounding cliché - I still call Australia home.

Corinne Bailey Rae: A Shameless Plug For Her New Album.

2010-01-09T06:35:00.015+08:00

"Someone to love is bigger than your pride's worth."

~Corinne Bailey Rae

There have been a number of albums that I have been keenly looking forward to in the last year. The first is Jimmy Eat World's new album, which has been in the works for wayyyyy too long. The next is Corinne Bailey Rae's sophomore album which will be released in February.

For those of you who don't know who Corinne Bailey Rae is - well, you are missing out. She's a UK soul/RnB/jazz singer who released her self-titled debut album in 2006. She has this beautiful, sweet, mellow voice that I absolutely adore (though I readily confess that I have a weakness for pretty girls who can sing). She has also been on a two-year hiatus ever since her husband, Jason Scott Rae, passed away under particularly nasty circumstances in 2008.

I recently found the attached youtube clip, which is a live performance of one of the songs on her new album. I know its awfully early in the year to say this, but I have a hunch that 'The Sea' will be my favourite album of 2010.

"I'd Do It All Again" was a song written by Corinne Bailey Rae after a huge argument with her spouse - two months before his death. The lyrics are basically about how you can love someone so much that, even though you may get into fights and arguments with them, you will stick by them all the same. And you'd do it all again because that's what it means to be in a relationship with someone you love.

This song has been constantly on repeat since I discovered it a few days ago. I know I may be reading too much into it, but I just feel that Corinne Bailey Rae is saying "I'd Do It All Again" to marriage and to love, even after all the hurt and pain that she has gone through with the passing of her spouse.

...

Just listen to the song. You'll get what I mean.

Round Midnight: In Perth.

2010-01-05T04:18:00.006+08:00

The young man gets into his car after a harrowing series of catch-ups filled with smiles, crying, hugs, finger-pointing, happy moments and sorrow. It's a strange mix to behold and emotionally draining for the man at the centre of it all. As difficult as it is, he is doing his best to be impartial with respect to the rift that has developed between a number of his closest friends. A lot can happen in a single year. Not only did he miss out on all the engagements, newborn babies and marriages - he also missed out on a massive falling out.

The whole fiasco brings to mind a chorus from an old Dishwalla song he used to listen to: "When we collide we lose ourselves / When we collide we break in two / And as we push and we shove and we hurt the ones we love / It's a hard mistake / When we collide / We break".

All-in-all it is a poignant reminder that 2009 wasn't such a good year for everyone else.

The young man utters a sigh and a "C'est la vie" before shifting into gear and driving off. He's not ready to go home yet - there's just too much on his mind. So he takes the car and drives off to nowhere in particular.

Round midnight he finds himself at Trigg Beach - one of his favourite late night haunts in Perth. To him there is something rejuvenating about going to a desolate beach in the middle of the night. The solitude, the moonlight, the crashing of the waves and the starry night sky. It is just the young man, his thoughts and his Saviour.

After a long period of solitary rumination and prayer, he lifts his eyes to survey the bright coloured lights in the distance. It is then and there that he makes an important realisation.

"Perth is dead to me".

That is not to say that his family and friends are dead to him. No, they are very much alive and loved. But his passion for Perth as a city and everything that it represents has been dulled after his year-long absence. Other than his family and friends, there is nothing for him in Perth, and try as he may, he repeatedly fails to envisage a future for himself involving his own beloved hometown.

It is then and there that he finally understands the true meaning of the phrase: "Familiarity breeds contempt".

Reflections: On 2009.

2009-12-26T18:01:00.003+08:00

I am writing this while on a plane from Brisbane to Perth. This is the first time that I will be visiting Perth since my departure in mid-February earlier this year. Seeing as I haven’t got much else to do on this flight, I decided that it would be appropriate to sit down and reflect on the year that has been.

I’ve had a recent realisation – one that only came to me a few days ago. In a nutshell, 2009 has been one of the best years that I have had in a very, very long time.

Those of you who have been reading this blog since its inception would know that it was birthed from a degree of dissatisfaction with the way my life was headed back in Perth. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t mean to say that I was dissatisfied with all my friends and family back in Perth (whom I miss dearly). Nor do I mean to say that I hate Perth, which will always be my hometown.

Fundamentally, I believe that my dissatisfaction stemmed from two main reasons. Firstly, opportunities in Perth were extremely limited in terms of the career path that I was aspiring towards. Secondly, and more importantly, I was becoming more and more uneasy with the various expressions of faith that I had cultivated as a Christian in the last eight or so years. Since then, both of these issues, along with various others, have been resolved.

I am confident of where I am heading personally (at this point in time anyway). I have also found an excellent fit to my personal and corporate expressions of faith. Yes, there have been many changes in the past year. Yes, it was a tough process. And yes, it was worth it.

I have much to be thankful for and little to complain about. Ironically, my standard of living in Brisbane was not as good as it was in Perth. I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t afford to eat out much, I didn’t have numerous flocks of friends, and I spent a lot of my spare time at home (rather than going out and about). Nonetheless, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

If you don’t know, I will be heading to Geneva, Switzerland for two months for an internship with an international organisation. I don’t mean to boast in my own achievements, but rather I would like to thank God for demonstrating His grace and favour towards me personally – which is undeserved on my part. I could’ve easily been looked over for the many opportunities that inevitably came my way this past year. And yet, God chose to bless me. He also placed in my life a multitude of people who have kept me sane and/or true to the faith during my time in Brisbane. In my heart of hearts, I know that I was where I was supposed to be in 2009.

I have met so many wonderful people in Brisbane and I have established myself here in a new church family whom I love dearly. And yet, I suspect that as much as I would like to resist it, I very well may be moving again. Potentially it will be somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere foreign, but ultimately somewhere where I am supposed to be.

Poems Others Write: "Said A Sheet Of Snow-White Paper".

2009-12-15T20:36:00.005+08:00

Said A Sheet Of Snow-White Paper
By Khalil Gibran

Said a sheet of snow-white paper, Pure was I created, and pure will I remain for ever. I would rather be burnt and turn to white ashes than suffer darkness to touch me or the unclean to come near me.

The ink-bottle heard what the paper was saying, and it laughed in its dark heart; but it never dared to approach her. And the multicoloured pencils heard her also, and they too never came near her.

And the snow-white sheet of paper did remain pure and chaste for ever, pure and chaste -- and empty.

Don Miller: The Reason Why God Hasn't Fixed You Yet.

2009-12-02T21:28:00.013+08:00

Not too long ago, I finished reading 'A Million Miles in a Thousand Years' by Donald Miller. This is quite possibly the most inspiring book that I've read all year.

One of the chapters that stuck in my head was entitled "Why God Hasn't Fixed You Yet". At first I found it a bit controversial, but the more I considered it personally and in the context of the Bible, the more I felt the chapter's message resonate within me. I've provided a (very large) excerpt of the chapter in this blog post. It is just that good! I know it's a long read, but if you persist, I'm sure you'll feel a little more inspired to keep your feet on the ground too.

Enjoy! =)

~~~

The Reason Why God Hasn’t Fixed You Yet

I’m convinced the most fantastical moment in [a] story, the point when all the tension is finally relieved, doesn’t actually happen in real life. And I mean that seriously. I’ve thought about it fifty different ways, but I can’t figure out how a human life actually climaxes so that everything on the other side of a particular moment is made to be okay. It happens all the time in movies and books, but it won’t happen to me – and I’m sorry to say, it won’t happen to you either.

Maybe the reason we like stories so much is because they deliver wish fulfilment. Maybe we sit in the dark and shovel sugar into our mouths because in so many stories everything is made right, and we secretly long for that ourselves ... There’s just something in the DNA of a human that responds to the idea of an event, a moment in which the upheaval we’ve all been working around is finally laid to rest.

But regardless how passionate the utopianists are, I simply don’t believe utopia is going to happen. I don’t believe we are going to be rescued. I don’t believe an act of man will make things on earth perfect, and I don’t believe God will intervene before I die, or for that matter before you die. I believe, instead, we will go on longing for a resolution that will not come, not within life as we know it, anyway.

If you think about it, an enormous amount of damage is created by the myth of utopia. There is an intrinsic feeling in nearly every person that your life could be perfect if you only had such-and-such a car or such-and-such a spouse or such-and-such a job. We believe we will be made whole by our accomplishments, our possessions, or our social status. It’s written in the fabric of our DNA that life used to be beautiful and now it isn’t, and if only this and if only that, it would be beautiful again.

I saw a story on 60 Minutes a few months ago about the happiest country in the world. It was Denmark. A study done by a British university ranked the happiest countries, and America was far down the list, but Denmark was on top. Morley Safer explored why. Ruling out financial status, physical health, and even social freedom, he landed on a single characteristic of the Danes that allowed them such contentment. The reason Danes are so happy was this: they had low expectations.

I’m not making that up. There is something in Denmark’s culture that allows them to look at life realistically. They don’t expect products to fulfil them or relationships to end all their problems. In fact, in the final interview of the segment, Safer was sitting across from a Danish man and remarked to him that when Americans find out the happiest place on earth is Denmark, they are going to want to move there. Without missing a beat, the Danish man looked at Morley and said, “Well, honestly, they will probably be let down.”

I don’t mean to insinuate there are no minor climaxes to human stories. There are. A kid can try to make the football team and in a moment of climax see his name on the coach’s list. A girl can want to get married and feel euphoric when the man of her dreams slides a ring on her finger. But these aren’t the stories I’m talking about. These are substories. When that kid makes the football team, he is going to find out that playing football is hard, and he’s going to find himself in the middle of yet another story. And the girl is going to wake up three months into her marriage and realise she is, in fact, still lonely, and so many of her issues haven’t gone away. And if both of these people aren’t careful, they’re going to get depressed because they thought the climax to their substory was actually a climax to the human story, and it wasn’t. The human story goes on.

Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all our problems. We were taught that there was a circle-shaped hole in our heart and that we had tried to fill it with the square pegs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll; but only the circle peg of Jesus could fill our hole. I became a Christian based, in part, on this promise, but the hole never really went away. To be sure, I like Jesus, and I still follow him, but the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It’s basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesus is going to make everything better here on earth. Can you imagine an infomercial with Paul, testifying to the amazing product of Jesus, saying that he once had power and authority, and since he tried Jesus he’s been moved from prison to prison, beaten, and routinely bitten by snakes? I don’t think many people would be buying that product. Peter couldn’t do any better. He was crucified upside down, by some reports. Stephen was stoned outside the city gates. John, supposedly, was boiled in oil. It’s hard to imagine how a religion steeped in so much pain and sacrifice turned into a promise for earthly euphoria. I think Jesus can make things better, but I don’t think he is going to make things perfect. Not here, and not now.

What I love about the true gospel of Jesus, though, is that it offers hope. Paul has hope our souls will be made complete. It will happen in heaven, where there will be a wedding and a feast. I wonder if that’s why so many happy stories end in weddings and feasts. Paul says Jesus is the hope that will not disappoint. I find that comforting. That helps me get through the day, to be honest. It even makes me content somehow. Maybe that’s what Paul meant when he said he’d learned the secret of contentment.

After the girl I’d dated had been in Switzerland for a while, and as I continued to see a counsellor, I realised that for years I’d thought of love as something that would complete me, make all my troubles go away. I worshipped at the altar of romantic completion. And it had cost me, plenty of times. And it had cost most of the girls I’d dated, too, because I wanted them to be something they couldn’t be. It’s too much pressure to put on a person. I think that’s why so many couples fight, because they want their partners to validate them and affirm them, and if they don’t get that, they feel as though they’re going to die. And so they lash out. But it’s a terrible thing to wake up and realise the person you just finished crucifying didn’t turn out to be Jesus.

I was interviewing my friend Susan Isaacs after her book Angry Conversations with God came out. We were in front of a live audience, and I was reading questions to her off of index cards submitted by the audience. Because so much of her book talks about relational needs, relational fulfilment and unfulfillment, one of the questions asked was whether she believed there was one true love for every person.

Susan essentially said no. And she said that with her husband sitting right there in the audience. She said she and her husband believed they were a cherished prize for each other, and they would probably drive any other people mad. But then she said something I thought was wise. She said she had married a guy, and he was just a guy. He wasn’t going to make all her problems go away, because he was just a guy. And that freed her to really love him as a guy, not as an ultimate problem solver. And because her husband believed she was just a girl, he was free to really love her too. Neither needed the other to make everything okay. They were simply content to have good company through life’s conflicts. I thought that was beautiful.

There is a lot of money and power to be had in convincing people we can create an Eden here on earth. Cults are formed when leaders make such absurd promises. Products are sold convincing people that they are missing out on the perfect life. And political groups tend to scare people by convincing them we are losing Eden, or inspire people by telling them we can rebuild what God has destroyed. We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn’t hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy.

All of this may sound depressing to you, but I don’t mean it to be. I’ve lived some good stories now, and those stories have improved the quality of my life. But I’ve also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I’m walking around on this planet. I’ve let go of the idea that this life has a climax. I’m trying to be more Danish, I guess. And the thing is, it works. When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you’d be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you’d be surprised how much you like spending time with God.

Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won’t be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast.

Jazz n' Jive: Origins.

2009-11-08T21:24:00.012+08:00

When did my fascination with Jazz begin? Why did it begin? Why Jazz?

Well, it all stems from my days as a young 10-year old. My family had recently bought a brand new Intel 486 desktop computer with Windows 95 pre-installed. Our new PC also came with an Encarta 95 cd-rom. I used to enjoy reading random articles from our family's encyclopaedia set when I was younger - (Yes, Yes, I know I'm a nerd) - and now with Encarta, I had a whole new audio-visual experience with which to explore.

Back then I didn't really know what Jazz music was all about. In fact, my musical knowledge was limited to popular classical music (like Mozart & Beethoven), my dad's mix tapes (full of sentimental 80's power ballads), and the stuff I heard on mainstream radio.

One day, as I was browsing through Encarta, I decided to look up an article on the saxophone. I used to have an innate fascination with the sax and have now come to realise that this was a subliminal message implanted into my subconscious by The Simpsons. Anyway, I happened to come across the first jazz piece that I ever loved. It was only a short, 2-minute excerpt, but after that I was addicted for life! The opening line of the song had such a catchy melodic hook, full of lyricism, life and vivacity. The notes pouring out of that saxophone sounded like they were floating effortlessly through the air. In the end, I guess it was all that spontaneity and joyous expression that I fell in love with.

A year later, I started learning the clarinet. I actually wanted to learn the saxophone, but apparently kids in Year 6 are too small for that kind of thing. I was told that I had to learn the clarinet before I could transition to the sax.

Once I got more proficient at the clarinet, I taught myself to play that Jazz piece from Encarta by ear. My clarinet teacher, Mr Gillam, later told me that it was called "St. Thomas" and that the saxophonist who composed the piece was Sonny Rollins (see picture above).

St. Thomas is a readily accessible piece of Jazz. A lot of Jazz, however, isn't so accessible. In fact, it would take me years before I had a full appreciation of the art-form.

But hey, we all have to start from somewhere, no?

Life Metaphors: Amen & Amen.

2009-11-01T22:19:00.018+08:00

Here's a fun little activity. Say out loud the title of this post and take note of how you pronounced "Amen".

Did you say "Ah-men" or did you say "Aye-men"?

It's subtle isn't it?

Well, this slight difference in pronunciation is the basis of the following post.

And this is why:

Whenever I finish off a prayer to God, I always end it with the word "Ah-men". I've always pronounced Amen this way. I'm not exactly sure where I picked up the habit. It can't be from the churches that I've attended. I've always attended churches where everyone says "Aye-men". And I don't just mean a soft-spoken, pansy kinda Aye-men. I mean a loud, brash, enthusiastically charismatic AYYYYYYYEEEEEE-MEN!!! The kinda Aye-men that compels other people to jump to their feet and do all sorts of weird and wonderful things.

I don't come from a Christian family, so I can't have learnt it from them. Maybe I picked up the habit from my primary school teachers? Two particular teachers spring to mind. The first was my Year 4 teacher Mrs Moffat, who was a very genteel and good-natured lady. She was old enough to be my grandmother at the time and I'm quite sure that she baked delicious lamingtons too, like all Aussie nanna's do.

I actually went to a secular, non-religious primary school, but for reasons of her own Mrs Moffat would always start class with a prayer - a short, uplifting prayer that ended with the word "Ah-men". I don't think she'd be allowed to do that nowadays. The PC brigade doesn't like that, and everyone knows that all hell breaks loose when you offend the PC brigade.

There was also a second teacher. She was my music teacher, Mrs Waring. Now if you know anything about me at all then you would know that I am indebted to this lady in so many ways. My love, passion and desire to learn, explore and enjoy music was more-or-less her doing. I even won the Book Award for Music in Year 7, which is quite a feat considering that there would've been kids in my class who were much better musicians than me. I mean, I could only play the clarinet. That's nothing compared to a kid who plays the piano or the violin!

Mrs Waring, like Mrs Moffat, was also a teacher old enough to be my grandmother. She even played musical games with us that taught us Bible stuff. That was the reason why I knew the names of the four gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke and John - before I knew Jesus!

Sufficed to say, Mrs Waring was also the kinda person who always said Ah-men. Okay, I admit that I can't recall a specific instance when she prayed with us, but I'm adamant that if she did, she would've said Ah-men. She definitely wasn't an Aye-men kinda person.

As I mentioned earlier, I have always attended Aye-men churches. Even so, I have persisted in saying Ah-men. I even had a girl from my old church point that out to me once: "I noticed that you always say Ah-men at the end of every prayer. Why do you have to be so different?"

I didn't have an answer for her at the time. To be honest, I never really noticed it myself. I just shrugged my shoulders and told her it was a peculiar habit of mine.

~~~

"Now where is he getting with all of this?" I hear you ask.

Well, the fact of the matter is that I've been an Ah-men person attending Aye-men churches. I mean, I enjoy jumping up and down ecstatically (literally and metaphorically), as much as any other church-goer, but lately I seem to have lost the drive to do so. This wasn't something that happened overnight. Instead, this was something that had been brewing for many months now. The more ignorant Aye-men people will rashly accuse me of having "lost the fire" and being a "cold" or "dead" Christian.

I beg to differ.

What they don't understand is that I have been an Ah-men Christian masquerading as an Aye-men Christian. It took me a long while to realise this, but now that I have, I ain't turning back.

Since coming to Brisbane I have tried attending a large Aye-men church. I never really had a proper reason for attending the church other than convenience (and that is never a good enough reason for joining a church).

Everytime I attended the Aye-men church, I felt like an alien and an outsider. I tried shutting off the intellectual part of my brain that questioned everything. I tried feeling happy-clappy every single day (or at least presenting myself that way). I even tried altar calls for re-dedication. In summary, nothing worked.

A month ago, I decided to join an Ah-men church near my uni. The people there are a lot quieter. They don't jump up and down in the church. They don't babble in weird and wonderful languages. Instead, they preach the bible in a careful and ordered manner. Praying is also a lot simpler. Now some of the more ignorant Aye-men people will call this church a "dead church". In response I ask them this, "If this church is so dead then why do I feel so alive there? And why did I feel more dead than alive going to a lively, happy-clappy, Aye-men church?"

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Aye-men churches. What I've realised, however, is that I just don't fit there anymore. There are a number of reasons for why this is so, and why I don't think I'll ever join an Aye-men church again. But for simplicity's sake let us leave it at this: "For better or worse, I am just an Ah-men kinda guy".

Poems I Write: "My Desideratum."

2009-10-26T12:33:00.018+08:00

desideratum (noun): something lacked and wanted

the ivory fan is burring
outside the wind a-whirling
while thoughts of you are swirling
unfurling in my head

tiny drops of matter
collide, freewheel and scatter
dreams about the latter
they tatter into shred

the flames flare up in stages
desideration rages
to fill the empty pages
my search for you has shed

the search that has thus led
where angels fear to tread

Yong Yi Lee

Written 26/10/09

...

"FW: For Yongz": Subtle Signposts.

2009-10-17T20:02:00.028+08:00

Lost? Follow the signposts, you'll get there.
~BlackFrostRose

It is August 2008. Around this time I had recently graduated from UWA and was then working at a manufacturing factory up in Wangara. I'm sure you can understand how I felt working in a dead-end job that had nothing to do with my 5.5 years of university study.

After coming home one night, I opened up my hotmail and noticed an email from a close, university friend. The email read, 'Came across this at work. Just in case you haven't seen this already, its a job description of an internship at WHO. You must apply!!!'

It is nice to know that there are people out there who know your personal dreams and ambitions - even when you haven't thought about those dreams too seriously. In this case, my friend hit the nail on the head. However, after poring through the internship I noticed the following condition: 'Applicants should be minimum 20 years of age, currently enrolled as a graduate or post-graduate student, and enrolled during the proposed internship period.'

I was not enrolled in any university at the time. Instead, I was working in a dead-end job while waiting for an acceptance letter from the University of Queensland. And so I pushed this to the side and didn't think much of it.

Until recently...

~~~

Fast-forward to last week. I opened up my UQ email and noticed an unusual email from an unusual source.

The unusual email immediately brought to mind the August 2008 incident that I just mentioned. That, and a whole lot of others. For example:

- My first lecture at UQ.

- Meeting a girl at the bus stop who mentioned moving to Switzerland for a year.

- The tedious task of writing a resume.

- Receiving a birthday card from a friend at UQ with the message, 'Keep track on your life. Grab your ambition.' My friend also drew a cartoon representation of me with a thought-bubble containing the acronym 'WHO'.

All of these subtle (and not-so-subtle) signposts have reminded me that He is there right beside me, leading me gently and purposefully along the path of life. In this case, I guess it isn't that bothersome to know that my life isn't so vanilla after all.

~~~

By the way, if you haven't realised by now, I've actually been accepted for a two-month internship with the World Health Organization in Geneva, Switzerland! It will be out of my comfort zone, but who honestly cares about that?

Goodbye Summer/Hello Winter! =)

Some Exciting News: Opportunity and Constraint.

2009-10-10T12:10:00.007+08:00

I just got an email yesterday with some exciting news. Well, it may not be exciting for some, but it sure is to me.

The gist of the email is an acceptance for a potential opportunity in the near future. I'm absolutely thrilled with joy/awe/gratitude. It is a once-in-a-million kinda opportunity that I've been given here.

But there is a catch. There is a major constraint that I'm going to have to overcome before I can follow through. I hope/pray that this will all work out in the end and that this potentiality can become a reality.

Gosh, I'm already dreaming about the scent of frosty air and the crunch of snow under my feet!

Currently Reading: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.

2009-10-08T20:11:00.006+08:00

I just received a copy of Don Miller's latest book in the mail today - "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years". I've been looking forward to reading this for quite a while now. In a nutshell, the book is an exploration into what makes stories meaningful, and in turn, what makes an individual person's life-story meaningful.

This is lifesong...

If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn't cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn't tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you'd seen. The truth is, you wouldn't remember that movie a week later, except you'd feel robbed and want your money back. Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.

But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won't make a story meaningful, it won't make a life meaningful either. Here's what I mean by that:

~Taken from "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller

Poems Others Write: i carry your heart with me.

2009-09-21T22:45:00.004+08:00

i carry your heart with me
by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

NOTE: this is a favourite poem from a person i know. i can clearly see why.
.

Reliving Life's Lighter Moments #4

2009-09-15T20:17:00.009+08:00

He hops on to the bus with his newly bought Bialetti Moka Express in his hands and the taste of Hawaiian Kona lingering on his lips. All-in-all, the visit to the Torrefazione (i.e., coffee roasting house) was a fruitful one. In addition to his shiny, new coffee maker, he has also come out of the trip with a newfound appreciation of the distinctive nuances of coffee from around the globe.

As the bus approaches his stop, his mind imagines the fresh aroma of the short black that he intends to make later that afternoon. An unexpected tap on the shoulder interrupts his reverie. He turns around and sees a chubby, Asian, adolescent boy smiling at him.

"Sorry for disturbing you", says the boy in a halting accent, "But I was just wondering where you are from?"

"Ahhhh, I'm from Malaysia originally, but I've lived in Perth since I was two. I'm Chinese though."

"Oh!" exclaims the chubby Asian boy. "I'm from Mongolia and I thought that you looked Mongolian!"

...

...

WTF!?

A Time to Reminisce: Auto-stranger.

2009-09-05T23:58:00.013+08:00

"I was a fundamentalist Christian once. It lasted a summer." ~Don Miller

"It happens. You grow up with someone for a period of time and at the end of it all, you come to the point where you say, 'Who the heck are you!?' " ~A Newfound Friend

I've been taking a moment to reminisce and look at where I am now and where I've been in the past. Invariably, I started scrolling through my old blog (i.e., 'Ye Olde Blog'). After a few minutes perusal, this is the first thought that came to mind: "Who the heck is this guy?"

Sad but true. I was recently having a conversation with a newfound friend about how you can grow up with someone, know someone for a long period of time, and still not recognise who they are at the end of it all. It's a fact that I've been trying to grapple with, especially with the tumultuous changes that have beset me in the last several months.

It goes something like this. You can grow up with someone, be super-dooper buddies with them for a long period of time, but they change. You change as well. And the combined changes are so-much-so that you end up not being able to recognise each other.

I've recently come to an acceptance of this in the arena of friendship.

I never expected that I would not be able to recognise myself (or my 2003-2006 self, to be precise).

It certainly brings the question, "Who am I?", to a whole new level.

Welcome to UQ: My First Lecture.

2009-09-02T22:15:00.023+08:00

It is 10:05am. The young man hurriedly rushes up a flight of unfamiliar steps and through an unfamiliar corridor. It isn't what he'd call an auscpicious start to the year, but it could be worse. He could've slept in.

Puffing-and-panting, he eventually makes it to the room of his opening lecture. He quickly composes himself, sucks in a deep breath, then takes the first step into this strange, new, hallowed sanctum of learning.

The young man seats himself around the back of the class and briefly glances at his surrounding classmates. It is apparent that the majority of students are much older than him, but that is to be expected seeing that he isn't an undergraduate student any more.

The lecturer quietly sits on a desk at the front of the room. He has a friendly, unimposing air about him and the roots of his hair reveal a conspicuous grey hue - the sign that a lifetime of wisdom is coming to fruition.

Within the space of several minutes, the lecturer initiates the first class of the year.

"Hello everyone," the lecturer announces. "I'd like to welcome you all to the International Health Policy unit - I'm sure you will all find this an interesting and rewarding experience. Before we focus on the nitty-gritty details of the course, however, I'd like to go around the room and have you tell me your name, your professional background and whether you have had much experience in international health. I'll start first to get the ball rolling...."

The lecturer recounts his personal history, beginning from his younger days as a newly graduated medical doctor gallivanting through the countryside of Africa, to the time he pursued an arts major in French poetry, then finally his chosen career path - international health policy at the University of Queensland.

Soon after, a plethora of names and experiences bombard the young man. Tales of Zimbabwe, Tanzania, Japan, Switzerland, Cambodia, Thailand, France, working for AusAID and (his personal ambition) working for the World Health Organization. All these experiences collectively swirl like a maelstrom in the back of his mind. When it is his turn to speak, he sheepishly utters, "My name is Yong Yi and I have completed a Bachelor of Health Science and Commerce at the University of Western Australia in Perth."

Those final words leave the young man's mouth with a blatant, unfulfilled tone. It's not that he isn't grateful of his circumstances or his upbringing - he is! It is more to do with the fact that his consciousness now has an opportunity to reveal a latent reality regarding just how vast the world around him is and just how little he has experienced.

A flurry of daydreams quickly fill his mind: the icy fjords of Scandinavia; the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas; the sunny beaches of the Caribbean; the forests of Germany; and the sandy deserts of Sub-Saharan Africa. All these images flash before his mind's eye.

And thus begins the start of what could very well be a strong, insatiable wanderlust...

On Turning: Twenty-four.

2009-08-23T22:56:00.003+08:00

"Life is not what I thought it was 24 hours ago,
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with you.
And I'm not who I thought I was 24 hours ago,
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with you."

It's official. I am now waist-deep in twentysomething territory. To commemorate the occasion, I have posted a little song entitled "Twenty-four" by Switchfoot. It was a song that I sung at an SMA event in a not too distant past. I intially found this to be quite a strange and obscure song in terms of the lyrics, the song structure, and the mood. Nonetheless, it grew on me and I think it is very much a song that more or less describes where I am now and where I hope to be in the future.

I Am: Writing A Résumé.

2009-08-20T22:37:00.009+08:00

I am currently applying for some summer internships with various organisations. For me, writing a CV is awfully tedious and time-consuming. This is exacerbated by the fact that I am customising my CV for each respective organisation.

I was intending to return to Perth during the summer period, but planning ahead is difficult given the uncertainty surrounding my prospective employment opportunities. Still, it would be nice to visit home sometime soon.

Okay, random ranting aside, here is a poem by my favourite (Polish) contemporary poet - Wislawa Szymborska. I love her poems because they provide a refreshing, unconventional outlook on life. That, and her insightful use of irony (see below).

WRITING A RÉSUMÉ
By Wisława Szymborska
(Trans. By Stanisław Barańczak and Clare Cavanagh)

What needs to be done?
Fill out the application
and enclose the résumé.

Regardless of the length of life,
a résumé is best kept short.

Concise, well-chosen facts are de rigueur.
Landscapes are replaced by addresses,
shaky memories give way to unshakable dates.

Of all your loves, mention only the marriage;
of all your children, only those who were born.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know.
Trips only if taken abroad.
Memberships in what but without why.
Honors, but not how they were earned.

Write as if you'd never talked to yourself
and always kept yourself at arm's length.

Pass over in silence your dogs, cats, birds,
dusty keepsakes, friends, and dreams.

Price, not worth,
and title, not what's inside.
His shoe size, not where he's off to,
that one you pass off as yourself.
In addition, a photograph with one ear showing,
What matters is its shape, not what it hears.
What is there to hear, anyway?
The clatter of paper shredders.

So You Think You Can Dance: Addiction.

2009-08-11T00:08:00.006+08:00

For the record, I am not a regular viewer of 'So You Think You Can Dance'. My opportunities to watch the show are limited to the times when I am in the same room as someone else who watches it regularly. Though the moments are few and far between, I tend to enjoy them, and of the styles of dance that I have seen, my favourites are Tango and Contemporary - Tango because it is just so damn sexy and Contemporary because of the storytelling element in the dance.

The other day I saw this particular performance choreographed by Mia Michaels and performed by Kayla and Kupono. It was, to say the least, breathtaking! A short, but memorable journey into the world of addiction. The pain/struggle/suffering associated with wanting something that the addictee knows is bad for him/her was represented spectacularly.

For me, this was an exemplar of the arts at its finest - art that gleans a greater understanding of the human condition and the world around us. After viewing the dance, I hope you too can share in this sentiment.

Life Metaphors: Financing Love.

2009-08-05T12:20:00.010+08:00

met·a·phor
n.
1. A figure of speech in which a word or phrase that ordinarily designates one thing is used to designate another, thus making an implicit comparison, as in "a sea of troubles" or "All the world's a stage" (Shakespeare).
2. One thing conceived as representing another; a symbol: "Hollywood has always been an irresistible, prefabricated metaphor for the crass, the materialistic, the shallow, and the craven" (Neal Gabler).

I love metaphors. They are elaborate (sometimes pretentious) disguises that writers and poets use to muddy the meaning of their words. I personally enjoy taking the time to deconstruct the hidden meanings of metaphors. In a way it's like a process of discovery, a search for truth, that culminates in an eureka moment where the secret message is finally unveiled.

Here I would like to commence the following series of blog posts entitled "Life Metaphors". In it, I hope to explore how subtle, subconcious metaphors can have a huge bearing on our perceptions and behaviours.

I was reading Blue Like Jazz several weeks ago and stumbled upon the following passage, which superbly demonstrates the direction in which I'm heading with this. It is a lengthy read, but trust me, it is totally worth it.

It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you're looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things.

My realization came while attending an alumni social for Westmont College. I never attended Westmont, but my friend Michelle did, and she invited me. Greg Spencer, a communications professor, was to speak, and Michelle thought I might enjoy the lecture. I did. More than I can say. The lecture was about the power of metaphor. Spencer opened by asking us what metaphors we think of when we consider the topic of cancer. We gave him our answers, all pretty much the same, we battle cancer, we fight cancer, we are rebuilding our white blood cells, things like that. Spencer pointed out that the overwhelming majority of metaphors we listed were war metaphors. They dealt with battle. He then proceeded to talk about cancer patients and how, because of war metaphors, many people who suffer with cancer feel more burdened than, in fact, they should. Most of them are frightened beyond their need to be frightened, and this affects their health. Some, feeling that they have been thrust into a deadly war, simply give up. If there were another metaphor, a metaphor more accurate, perhaps cancer would not prove so deadly.

Science has shown that the way people think about cancer affects their ability to deal with the disease, thus affecting their overall health. Professor Spencer said that if he were to sit down with his family and tell them he had cancer they would be shocked, concerned, perhaps even in tears, and yet cancer is nothing near the most deadly of diseases. Because of war metaphor the professor said, we are more likely to fear cancer when, actually, most people survive the disease.

Mr. Spencer then asked us about another area in which he felt metaphors cause trouble. He asked us to consider relationships. What metaphors do we use when we think of relationships? We value people, I shouted out. Yes, he said, and wrote it on his little white board. We invest in people, another person added. And soon enough we had listed an entire white board of economic metaphor. Relationships could be bankrupt, we said. People are priceless, we said. All economic metaphor. I was taken aback.

And that's when it hit me like so much epiphany getting dislodged from my arteries. The problem with Christian culture is we think of love as a commodity. We use it like money. Professor Spencer was right, and not only was he right, I felt as though he had cured me, as though he had let me out of my cage. I could see it very clearly. If somebody is doing something for us, offering us something, be it gifts, time, popularity, or what have you, we feel they have value, we feel they are worth something to us, and, perhaps, we feel they are priceless. I could see it so clearly, and I could feel it in the pages of my life. This was the thing that had smelled so rotten all these years. I used love like money. The church used love like money. With love, we withheld affirmation from the people who did not agree with us, but we lavishly financed the ones who did.

The next few days unfolded in a thick line of melancholy thought and introspection. I used love like money, but love doesn't work like money. It is not a commodity. When we barter with it, we all lose. When the church does not love its enemies, it fuels their rage. It makes them hate us more.

~Donald Miller (Blue Like Jazz, 2003, pp. 217-219).

Back To You.

2009-07-01T02:24:00.007+08:00

It's amazing, how after 4.5 months, 3,614 km and a lengthy period of non-contact, he can't stop thinking about that person. It haunts his dreams at night, his daydreams, his waking hours - remembrance of days gone by and those days that could've been.

There is no reason for it. There shouldn't be. Yet the memory remains. The fantasy continues to manifest.

*Insert expletive here*...

Ode to Espresso: Doom & Gloom

2009-05-26T10:44:00.002+08:00

Coming Soon.

2009-05-14T00:18:00.004+08:00

Things have been hectic lately. My personal list of things to do seems to grow and grow. Of course, this blog has been neglected because of it. But stay tuned for the following:

- As promised... more "Jazz n' Jive"

- A resumption of "Musica La Viva" with a few of my personal fav albums

- "Life Metaphors": an exploration of how metaphors influence the way we think/act

- "The Christian Economist"

- Speed-Dating Fight Club (???)

- The FP in INFP

Hope: The Heavenly Counsellor.

2009-05-03T11:16:00.009+08:00

But the Counsellor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
~Jesus Christ [John 14:26-27]

A young man repositions himself in his chair and soon finds a more comfortable sitting position. In the front of the church, the elderly pastor gesticulates wildly as the worship band behind him draws the morning's worship session to a close. Suddenly the pastor closes his eyes, pauses for a couple of seconds, then invites all those people who have suffered from some form of abuse in the past to come to the front for prayer.

To his surprise, the young man sees a considerable number of people come forth. It doesn't take much to notice the pain of past hurts chiselled all over their faces. What's worse, the variety of people present would most likely represent a range of abuses from the verbal, to the physical , and even to those of a sexual nature. And this only includes those people who were brave enough to come forth. What of those victims who are quietly hiding in their seats? Needless to say, the young man soon experiences a combination of nausea and outrage well up inside of him. The fact that he personally knows two friends who were sexual abuse victims in the past certainly doesn't help.

Within the space of a few seconds the feelings of anger and sickness soon turn to despair. Then he looks ahead and sees the Holy Spirit minister to each person at the front. Smiles of joy can be clearly observed as the unseen blood of Christ washes away the muck of the past. The old is gone, the new has come.

The young man pauses to reflect and lifts up a silent prayer of thanks, for no matter how depraved this world can be, there is always hope and there is always a chance for restoration.

I am INFP: Intuition.

2009-05-01T02:00:00.010+08:00

Their eyes converge in the crowded, noisy room. It was a long time coming, with both of them starting at opposite ends of the cocktail bar. After an endless series of unsatisfying meet-and-greets they have finally reached equilibrium.

This is the juncture they'd been hoping for, the one they'd been privately working towards from the moment they first entered the party.

You watch from the side as the light playfully inflects from eye-to-eye. You hear what no one else hears - an unspoken tête-à-tête. You see what no one else sees - the invisible clasping of hands.

Nothing has been made explicit, and why should it be? So you keep silent, observe from a distance, and revel in the symmetry.

In the midst of the incessant chatter and the chime of glass, the portable walkman in your head plays the following:

"A boy and a girl is a dangerous thing, a train, a banjo and a chicken wing." ~Wynton Marsalis

Give A Warm Welcome To: The Awkward Turtle.

2009-04-16T00:55:00.011+08:00

The Sunday service finally ends. He stands up, stretches, then makes his way to the outdoor cafe area, adjacent to the church's main hall. He sees her sitting at one of the tables, smiles and takes the seat opposite her.

'So how's your week been?' she asks him.

'Yeh, it wasn't too bad. I didn't really get up to much. Though I recently wrote a budget the other day and made some important realisations.'

'Oh? And what were they?'

'Well for starters, I can't afford to go out and eat so much anymore, so its home-made food for me from now on. Two, and more importantly, I can't afford a girlfriend!'

She laughs.

'Well, what you need is to go out with some ultra-feminist girl.'

'Or, I could go out with an arts student!'

She laughs again.

'Are you sure? You know that you'll be taking on a whole set of other problems, right?'

'Yeh, why not? I'm short on money, but I'm long on time!' he remarks confidently.

During the lull in the conversation, the assistant pastor covertly positions himself next to him and begins to set the trap.

'Excuse me sir, but would you be interested in joining us for the men's breakfast this coming Saturday?'

'Ahhhh, nah I'll be okay. I'll probably be busy during that time,' he replies.

The assistant pastor looks at him, then looks at her, then looks at him again. A sly expression materialises on his face.

'Well,' the assistant pastor grins impishly, 'Her dad is going to be there, you know? The men's breakfast will be a good opportunity to score points with the dad!'

A sharp, metallic clunk resonates in the background.

'What? Huh? No! No, it's not like that! Ah. Um. I'll be okay. Honest!' he stammers awkwardly.

'Fine! Have it your way!'

And with that, the assistant pastor cheerfully moves on to his next victim.

A stunned silence transpires. The two friends eventually turn towards one another, with a look of disbelief, outrage and nausea plastered on each of their faces. Not knowing what else to do in this situation, he places his left hand on top of his right, extends his thumbs outward and twirls them in a forward, circular motion.

Jazz n' Jive: Introduction.

2009-04-04T23:53:00.003+08:00

This has been on my heart for a while. Those of you who know me well also know that I am a self-confessed jazz fanatic. I have been entranced with this form of music since I was a wee little boy. Yes, I have picked up a love for other musical forms along the way (most notably alternative rock), but jazz will always have a special place in my heart.

How much do I love jazz? Where should I start? The majority of the songs I sing in the shower are jazz standards. My 21st b'day (which was my first, and possibly last, extravagent b'day bash) was entitled, 'Yong Yi's Jazzy 1920's 21st Dessert Party', complete with live jazz and a 1920's dress code. The invites even had little origami saxophones on them! Which leads me to the clarinet. When I had my first opportunity to play a musical instrument, I naturally wanted to play the saxophone. Unfortunately, the instrument would be too heavy for my 11 year-old fingers and so I ended up learning the clarinet in the hopes of switching to the saxophone when I got older - a switch I have not made as of yet. Even while learning the clarinet, one of the first books I bought was called 'Jazz Method for Clarinet'. I even learnt to play the intro to my favourite jazz song at the time by ear.

Needless to say, I hope to start a series of posts that will endeavour to share with you some of the following:
- Why I love jazz so much.
- Why you should love jazz so much.
- My first encounters with jazz.
- Some of the best jazz recordings around.
- The exemplars of jazz and their contribution to music and art.

So, all you cool cats and fine felines. Come swing with me on a beboppin' musical journey through the hip-to-the-jive world of jazz...

An Economics Joke.

2009-04-02T22:02:00.003+08:00

I found this little gem in my Macroeconomics book today.

A chemist, a physicist, and an economist are all trapped on a desert island, trying to figure out how to open a can of food.

"Let's heat the can over the fire until it explodes," says the chemist.

"No, no," says the physicist. "Let's drop the can onto the rocks from the top of a high tree."

"I have an idea," says the economist. "First, we assume a can opener..."

Short Post: Realisations.

2009-04-01T22:09:00.008+08:00

I've recently had some realisations that are worth jotting down:

1. I love learning and those moments of discovery you have along the journey.

2. I missed calculus. It's nice to be differentiating equations again.

3. Dirty bathrooms are my new pet hate, and the effort put into cleaning them is oh so worth it.

4. Friendships (i.e., the ones worth keeping) can transcend even the tyranny of distance.

5. Bittersweet longings are my guilty pleasure - one that I should really wean off.

6. The Beatles were right. All you need is love... eight days a week.

7. Writing down a budget is useless if you don't adhere to it.

8. It's great being unbusy. More "me-time" is just what the doctor ordered.

9. *Insert forgotten/missing realisation here*.

10. I'm warming to the thought of extending my stay in Brisbane...

... Career-path/God-path pending

...

The Wise Narrator: Photographs/M.I.A.

2009-03-29T01:12:00.015+09:00

Author's Note: When I use the term "they", I actually mean it in the singular and not as an address to a group of people. I have opted for this grammatical error for the sake of gender-neutral language (i.e., so I can avoid using "he/she"). Remember, it is not a group of people the main character is referring to, but a single person.

'See I've become a man who holds nothing too dear. Who will mind if I just disappear?'
~'Picture of My Life' by Jamiroquai

Here I was, happily helping him nut out those econometrics proofs he'd been poring over for the last hour. Then he decided to have yet another one of his "Mental Health Breaks". He should've finished the chapter before doing that (he was so close to finishing), but he is just stubborn like that sometimes.

After a few mouse-clicks, he discovered a collection of photos of his friends on the other side of the country, all full of smiles and happy faces. I kept pestering him to stop looking at the photos and to get back to work. He knew I was in the right, and yet he consciously chose to ignore me.

Then it happened.

He suddenly realised that there was a noticeable exception among all those familiar faces. I quickly went into damage control and urged him not to think too much of it. 'It's nothing,' I told him. But no, he let my rival get the better of him.

'Even after all these years, it's like I'm a nobody to them!' he growled.

I patiently reasoned with him that he couldn't have been in the majority of those photos, due to his recent geographical displacement.

'But how about here, here and here? They're all times and places that I recall being a part of. And yet there is no record of my being there. It's like I'm an anathema to them, and that they refuse to acknowledge that I was ever a part of their life!'

'So what?' I pointedly asked him. 'If they don't see you as an important part of their life then there's nothing you can do about it. I know there are other reasons why you're getting so worked up, but it's time for you to let go of the matter and move on.'

He let out a sigh and mumbled in agreeance. It took a while, due to his stubbornness, but he soon switched over to my way of thinking.

Here's to another victory for Sound Judgement!

My Friendship Manifesto.

2009-03-25T23:45:00.003+09:00

For the record...

I am sick and tired of putting myself out there/making an effort to connect with people and receiving nothing but non-responses. For people who are acquaintances, I understand if you choose not to respond. For those that I've known for a considerable amount of time, this is a different matter.

It's not that I don't like/hate you, but if you refuse to make an effort to connect with me when I'm making a concerted effort to connect with you, then don't be surprised if I return your non-response with a similar non-responsiveness.

Not that you'd care anyway you non-responsive nobody.

Revealed: A Secret and a State of Mind.

2009-03-25T21:58:00.004+09:00

I read something the other day that I wasn't meant to read.
I didn't actively seek it, nor did I want to know about it.
But I stumbled upon it all the same.

It didn't really involve me at all.
But it did on a particular level.
I should've got angry.
I should've kicked up a fuss.
(It could be argued that I had a legitimate right to do so).
But I didn't.

I was surprised.
But I shouldn't have been surprised.
It was evidence
That there is a God
Who has been teaching me how:
To forgive;
To love unconditionally;
To look at the bigger picture.

Life Lesson: Detached, But Not Indifferent.

2009-03-22T21:43:00.006+09:00

Being "Detached, But Not Indifferent" with Material Possessions

Ingredients:
- One Laptop
- 3/4 Mug of Water
- One Box of Tissues
- Lots of Panicking Seasoned with a few F-words
- One Sigh
- A Thankful Spirit
- A Prayer to God

Method:
Take the mug of water and pour it all over the laptop keyboard. Start panicking and make a split decision to put the laptop into standby. Panic some more and start piling tissues onto the laptop to absorb the moisture. Observe as all the lights on the laptop turn dead. Unplug all attachments to the laptop and leave it out to dry for a day.

After patiently waiting, try to turn the laptop back on again. If the laptop still refuses to turn on, and is past repair, then it may need to be replaced.

At the end of it all - sigh, give thanks for what you still have, lift it all up to God, and move on.
.

Poems I Write: "Helvetica."

2009-03-19T23:25:00.006+09:00

Author's Note 1: This poem really needs to be seen in the original format to truly appreciate it's content, form and structure. If you would like a copy then please leave a comment and I'll get back to you.

Author's Note 2: The unintelligible line is written in Wingdings and says, 'I'm definitely not abstract'. The 2nd last line is written using a font called 'Gotohellvetica', which I thought was quite funny... =P

Author's Note 3: And for all you typeface Nazi's out there, the font that I masquerade as Helvetica is technically Liberation Sans. I'm a poor student. I can't afford to pay $45 for a font. Nuff said.

I am INFP: The Introvert.

2009-03-18T10:41:00.005+09:00

I am an introvert. I always have been. To those who have seen how I act among friends, this statement may come as a surprise. To clarify, extroverts are the sort of people who are energised by large social engagements. I'm the sort that feels drained. Yes, I know how to make conversation and how to act in social settings, but on a scale of preferences I'd much rather be alone at a cafe reading a good book or at my piano singing for no one in particular.

That isn't to say that I don't value friendships and family. It just means that I don't require a lot of contact to keep them going. [Caveat: I yearn for intimate one-on-one meetings with said people when I do meet them].

I think that is why I'm most alive at night. It's the time when most people are asleep, where quiet is the norm - the time when I can shut out the world and gather my thoughts. I cherish my solitude greatly.

And this is also the reason why I've been doing quite well in Brisbane. I miss everyone in Perth, but on the same token it's nice to have a break from all the tiresome relationship upkeep. It's also a good time to sit back and observe who actually bothers to keep in contact. Those will be the friendships worth keeping.

New Layout.

2009-03-17T12:20:00.007+09:00

I've decided to try out a new layout for the blog. This new layout is called Cellar Heat.

It's about time I rejuvenated this site visually! Thanks to sodabug for the inspiration (and the links).

A Taste of Heaven: Roy Fields.

2009-03-15T12:51:00.011+09:00

Sorry if I accidentally spat on you guys just now. But don't worry, that spit is anointed!
~Roy Fields

He sits down at the spot he usually occupies during the Sunday church service. All around him is a buzz of excitement. Talk of a worship leader from the revival in Lakelands, Florida fills the air. He shrugs his shoulders and doesn't think too much of it.

'It'll be a Sunday like any other.'

Little does he know of what he is actually in for:

... A moment to fan the dying embers of a once brilliant flame.

... The transfiguration of clichés into realities.

... A personal visit from the Creator.

... Rededication.

A Brief Happenstance: When East Meets West.

2009-03-12T20:38:00.021+09:00

'I'll find a way to see you again.'
~From 'I'll Find a Way' by Rachael Yamagata

He sits down on the bench and waits for the evening bus to bring him home. Sitting on the bench next to him is a girl. He immediately recognises her from the previous bus trip that transported him to his current location. He glances at her, glances at her again, then glances at her once more for good measure

15 minutes pass and still no bus. He starts to fidget restlessly, wondering when the bus home will arrive. In the midst of all this a voice in the back of his head keeps bugging him to start a conversation with her. He reasons with himself, 'What's the point? It won't amount to anything! Don't bother!'

Another 15 minutes pass. He is well aware that the bus is supposed to come every 15 minutes and wonders why his ride home is taking so long. He glances at her another time and she turns her head towards him. The back of his mind starts to scream and before he knows it, a series of words escape from his mouth.

In a matter of moments they are on a bus exchanging various details about each other. The topics range from: places of birth (i.e., Kuala Lumpur and Perth); growing up in Brisbane; growing up in Perth; a love of French; wanting to return to Perth and complete a PhD; wanting to go to Switzerland then come back and start a career in law; and so on and so forth.

He loses track of time - engrossed in this brief exchange of life stories.

She suddenly interjects, 'Sorry, this is actually my stop. I have to go now.'

He is taken aback and before he knows it, she has stepped off the bus.

'Dammit! I should've got her number!' he silently berates himself.

He sighs.

'It was short, but sweet. I guess if I'm meant to meet her again then I will.'

A sardonic expression crystallises on his face.

'Hah! As if that'd happen!'

Caught in a Web of Expectations.

2009-03-10T21:16:00.012+09:00

'Our hopes and expectations. Black holes and revelations.'
~From 'Starlight' by Muse

You're standing in the middle of a dark-lit room. You feel the intensity of their stares bore holes in your inner being. They are the people you love and/or respect - family, friends and periphery. As they look at you with either hopeful or disappointed eyes, silky threads extend to bind your limbs, your torso, your mind, your soul.

You are the mannequin, the puppet on a series of strings. You are caught in a web of expectations. Be what they want you to be. Act the way that they want you to act. Forget about the fact that you are supposed to be your own man or woman. That is irrelevant. All that matters is pleasing the people you love/respect/crave-encouraging-words-from.

Don't you want to be free? Don't you want to cut loose those cords that are holding you back from reaching your full potential? You cannot discover the life that God has in store for you if you are constantly seeking to please the people around you. Yes, they may have the best intentions for you, but sometimes fulfilling those intentions is not necessarily what's best for you.

Be free. Be individual. Be true to yourself. Be who you are (meant to be) in Christ. It doesn't matter if you tread on peoples' toes. Even if you do, the only people that matter are the ones who will love you regardless.

Poems I Write: "To My (Future) Wife"

2009-03-07T00:32:00.004+09:00

Hello my darling. How are you?
I hope that all is going fine.
I know that it’s out of the blue,
For me to write these random lines.

Right now my thoughts are filled with you,
And all the bliss your love inflame.
A holy bond that will inspire,
Desire for you to change your name.

A little premature I cede,
To so delight with hope this day.
For as of yet we have not met,
But our romance I’ll still survey.

Imagining the day we meet,
And then that day I ask you out.
I brim with happiness inside,
And pray with earnestness about.

The wonder of the day we’re wed,
And miracles of life beget,
In concert we will deft compose,
A strange but heavenly duet.

Although I cannot promise that,
Our lives will pass without distress,
I know if we commit to Christ,
Then there will always be success

With our own journey as a source,
Let us our own novella bind,
A book with only one main theme,
On how two lives are love entwined.

Yong Yi Lee

Written 27/08/07

Ode to Espresso: A Social Lubricant.

2009-03-01T14:11:00.006+09:00

'Close, engaging company can make even the most mediocre coffee taste like heaven in a cup.'

A Contradiction in Terms.

2009-03-01T13:50:00.007+09:00

'No, my Lord. I, your servant, cannot do what you ask.'

In Absentia: You (and Me).

2009-02-23T10:00:00.018+09:00

'What is this six-stringed instrument but an adolescent loom?'
~From 'One Crowded Hour' by Augie March

On a beautiful summer morning, a flood of sunshine leisurely trickles into the young man's room. On the whole he's been doing fine, but today the gravity feels heavier than usual.

He takes out his guitar, positions himself, then strikes the first chord. While playing through a familiar progression, the man weaves in melodic words that complement each harmonic strum. It's technically a love song for no one, or is it?

If you were to sneak a look into the back of his mind then you would see a hazy projection of her face. Though he would prefer to think otherwise, the situation is not a split screen sadness. He is well aware that she doesn't think about him the way he thinks about her. But he doesn't mind. He's used to being the man on the side.

On this bright summer morning his heart is covered in rain. But that's okay. Just a few more songs, then clarity will surely come.

[Author's Note: See if you can spot the John Mayer references]

My Current Wallpaper: A Personal Reminder.

2009-02-19T01:14:00.008+09:00

.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.

I am INFP: The Idealist Healer.

2009-02-17T15:54:00.013+09:00

Healers have a profound sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. They conceive of the world as an ethical, honorable place, full of wondrous possibilities and potential goods. In fact, to understand Healers, we must understand that their deep commitment to the positive and the good is almost boundless and selfless, inspiring them to make extraordinary sacrifices for someone or something they believe in. Set off from the rest of humanity by their privacy and scarcity (around one percent of the population), Healers can feel even more isolated in the purity of their idealism.

At work, Healers are adaptable, welcome new ideas and new information, are patient with complicated situations, but impatient with routine details. Healers are keenly aware of people and their feelings, and relate well with most others. Because of their deep-seated reserve, however, they can work quite happily alone. When making decisions, Healers follow their heart not their head, which means they can make errors of fact, but seldom of feeling. They have a natural interest in scholarly activities and demonstrate, like the other Idealists, a remarkable facility with language. They have a gift for interpreting stories, as well as for creating them, and thus often write in lyric, poetic fashion. Frequently they hear a call to go forth into the world and help others, a call they seem ready to answer, even if they must sacrifice their own comfort.

- If you wish to find out your own Myers-Briggs personality then click here.

- Descriptions for each type of personality can be found on this website.

- Please do share what your results are and whether or not you feel they are an accurate description of your own personality.

Au Revoir: Hello Sunrise, Goodbye Sunset.

2009-02-13T20:43:00.009+09:00

Individual/Small-group Catch-up Counter: 30 catch-ups in the space of 24 days.

Farewell Party Counter: Zero.

I'm glad I opted not to do a farewell party. Some people couldn't understand, but to me all that hoo-ha and fanfare was unnecessary.

I appreciate everyone making the time to meet with me before I leave. There were a few pleasant surprises along the way, some much-needed resolutions and re-connections, and a whole heap of memories.

Thanks y'all, I feel so blessed!

The highlight of all of this was the chance to hold a friend's newborn baby yesterday. I wasn't sure if I'd have a chance to see him before I go, but he didn't disappoint!

Okay, nuff said...

Now Watch Me Disappear!

Reliving Life's Lighter Moments #3

2009-02-12T00:46:00.008+09:00

A young boy quietly studies in a neat little corner. Surrounding him are rows of bookshelves ordered anally according to Dewey. While mulling over a thick publication of boredom, the boy discerns a distinctive rumbling sensation around his lower abdomen. Nature is finally calling.

The boy packs his things and retreats to that special seat where many wondrous epiphanies have been made in times past. He locks the cubicle door, readies himself, then settles down for a moment of Zen.

In the middle of his private meditation, the boy looks down at the various bits of scrawl etched on the door facing him. He immediately notices the following communique:

'If you are reading this, then you are shitting at a 45 degree angle!'

An awe-inspiring truth from a truly enlightened individual.

[A link to the above picture can be found here]

A Prognostication.

2009-02-09T00:15:00.010+09:00

Here lies a limestone trail. One well-trod in the past; one I am re-treading again. I would highly recommend that you listen to the following piece of music as you journey with me along this beaten track: [Sigur Ros - Hoppipola].

"This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God."
~Luke 8:11, NIV

The golden sun envelopes a scene of eucalyptus, bark trees, bush and soil. On one side, a flock of ducklings paddle along a shallow creek, soaking in the sun's glorious warmth. I too relish the sun's ardent embrace, while plodding leisurely in the forward direction.

I follow a turn along the path and am immediately greeted by a bleak landscape of charred wood and scorched earth. Taking a glimpse in the distance, all one can see is an extension of the void - this overwhelming lack of vitality. It is a dismal, chaotic spectacle. One, I recall, created by the greedy flames of past tribulation.

I pause a moment to reflect, then promptly utter a silent thanks. I recall that a number of seeds planted under the soil had failed to germinate prior to the great inferno. These seeds lay comfortably in their well-protected shells, totally oblivious to the world outside. But that is no longer the case. The furnace of tribulation has demolished these protective coverings. Now the seeds can finally grow!

Two or more years from now you will see the fruits of the fire. The bleak landscape will be transformed into a habitat of spirit and vitality. All you need is to give it time, water and sunshine.

Just you wait! When I come back here you will see a complete restoration (and then some)!

Sweetness.

2009-02-06T00:22:00.007+09:00

..............................i am glad

that i am no longer..............................

..............................sinking

into sweet..............................

..............................uncertainty

but..............................

..............................the sweetness

will not be..............................

..............................concerned

with me..............................

[Inspired by the Jimmy Eat World song "Sweetness"]

Watch Me Disappear.

2009-02-02T20:28:00.010+09:00

'Here is your double espresso, sir!'

A waitress cheerfully places a steaming cup of coffee on the young man's table. He smiles politely, thanks the waitress, then proceeds to conduct his own private ritual. After raising the cup to his nose, he gives the espresso a quick swirl and lets the invigorating aroma permeate through his nasal cavity. He lovingly sips the bittersweet brew then glances off to one side.

Her plane is clearly visible through the glass walls of the airport. He observes her at the entrance of the plane's departure gate as she tearfully bids farewell to a small assembly of family and friends.

'She's come a long way', he remarks to himself. 'I'm happy for her.'

He smiles unconvincingly then downs his espresso in a single gulp. As he rises from his seat, he surveys the motley collection of faces that surround him.

'Looks like no one showed up to say goodbye. Good. It'll be a simple disconnect.'

He walks away with bag in hand - vanishing in a wispy haze.

The waitress returns to collect the empty cup and notices a small note left on the table. A quizzical expression develops on her face as she reads the following inscription:

"Watch Me Disappear."

13 Days.

2009-02-02T00:12:00.005+09:00

Only 13 days and counting before the big day.
The significance still hasn't hit home.
Or am I just being evasive?

Lost.

2009-01-31T10:03:00.004+09:00

I can't find my Bible!
I have others, but this one's different.
It's a small, compact, black, leather-bound NIV Bible.
A Bible I have read everywhere:
In uni, on the bus, at cell, at church,
On my table, in my bed, during worship.
I've prayed many times in the past with this Bible in hand.
God has spoken to me while reading this Bible.
Personal struggles have been fought with it too.

I can't find my Bible!
A simple misplacement?
Or a sign of a deeper, underlying problem?

Out of Reach - Green.

2009-01-29T01:20:00.011+09:00

s
He sits along the ocean shore meditating quietly on the chrome of the moonlight and the crashing of the waves. By his side, there she also sits dressed in her green shirt, black jacket and blue jeans with knees bent up to her chest. He looks at her intently as she stares pensively into the turqoise waters. She then smiles a melancholic smile before pushing back her fringe behind her ear.

He reaches out towards her with his hand outstretched not sure why he is doing what he is doing. As his hand steadies on its course, it soon meets with the touch of cold glass. He has no idea where it came from and eventually realises that no matter how much he tries, he can't make contact with her.

He calls out to her. He shouts and implores, begs her to let him help her. But she looks on into the ocean without flinching. It's as if she cannot, no, refuses to hear him.

Her green-tinged melancholy continues, while on he looks waiting patiently on the side.

A Sign of the Times: Reality Check.

2009-01-28T18:02:00.007+09:00

'Recessions are tough. You have to work much harder to keep your job - that is, if you're lucky enough to have a job in the first place.'

Noon-day. A crowd of factory workers gather around the entrance of Unit 4 with a great deal of chatter and all-round good humour. As the last worker arrives, the foreman makes his way to the front and surveys the assembly of fluorescent shirts in a morose fashion.

'Okay lads. We're just letting you know that things at the factory have been tough lately. Sales have dropped by 60% in the last month and we're in a situation where we are paying more wages than what we're bringing in. The owners are not happy.'

'What I'm asking from you guys is for you to lift your game. We need to increase our productivity - work faster and reduce the set-up/set-down times of jobs. From now on you will all be recording how long it takes for you to complete your work. The necessary forms will need to be filled out before you sign-off at the end of each day.'

'I hope we don't have to fire anyone, but if we can't reverse the current situation soon then don't be surprised if some of you get the sack.'

'Any questions?'

My Cultural Identity.

2009-01-26T10:24:00.006+09:00

I am Malaysian Chinese.

I was born in Malaysia. My extended family lives there. I love the food!

The blood that courses through my veins is Chinese. I love my culture. I love my yellow skin, squinty eyes and black hair. I love learning about the history of China. I love the Chinese language (though I can't speak a word). I love the food!

I am Australian.

I love the Australian nation. I love the people. I love the multiculturalism. I love the beauty of this sunburnt country. I love casting my vote at both State & Federal levels of Government. I love the Australian Government(!) I sing the national anthem with pride. I will fight tooth and nail for this nation if the need arises (and no other). I love this Great South Land of the Holy Spirit. I love the food!

Xin Nian Kuai Le, Gong Xi Fa Cai, Chuc Mung Ngam Moi, and Happy Australia Day everyone!

Now would you please rise to sing the national anthem - as sung by the band Gyroscope [click here].

Reliving Life's Lighter Moments #2

2009-01-24T22:59:00.008+09:00

At last, the siren signalling the end of yet another day echoes across the high school. From one of the classrooms a boy begins making his way home. As he leaves the school grounds he notices her walking on the opposite side of the street.

He gives her a look. She looks back.

He smiles and waves. She smiles and waves in return.

He smiles even more, then returns his gaze in the forward direction.

He sees a pole directly in front of him.

BANG!!!

*A groan, a grimace and a sudden rush of blood to the cheeks*

Don't Do a Gatsby!

2009-01-22T23:13:00.005+09:00

The Great Gatsby is one of my all-time favourite novels. It was written by the American author F. Scott Fitzgerald and tells the story of Jay Gatsby - a man who lived in New York City during the Roaring 20's.

I saw the following description of the book from artofmanliness.com:

'From it we learn that often the wanting of something is better than actually having it. It is relevant to every man’s life.'

After reading this I paused a moment to reflect. In the story, Gatsby is in love with a girl named Daisy - a girl he met and courted while fighting in The Great War in Europe. Daisy comes from the "Old Money" establishment in New York City. Gatsby, on the other hand, comes from humbler beginnings and in order to "win the girl" he amasses a large fortune through trade, gambling and other under-the-table dealings.

In the novel, Gatsby holds popular, lavish parties in his West Egg Island mansion in the hopes that one day Daisy will make an appearance. He is also portrayed gazing in the direction of East Egg Island (the island where Daisy lives) dreaming of the day that Daisy will be in his arms again.

Sadly, when Daisy does come back into his life, Gatsby realises that the dream that he built of her doesn't turn out to be all that he hoped it would be. Without giving too much away, things turn a little sour for our starry-eyed protagonist Gatsby.

I thought about the story more and the lesson hit home hard. I know a lot of guys that are prone to "Do a Gatsby" (myself included). Even so, this lesson doesn't just apply when dealing with members of the opposite sex but it also applies with the way we think about our hopes, dreams and aspirations.

How often have you thought, 'Oh, if only I had a better job. I'm sure things would be so much better with this company than with that company'.

How about, 'If I was with that guy/girl then my life would be complete'.

Or even, 'I can't wait to move to such-and-such-a-place. I'll be so much happier once I move'.

We always like to believe that the grass is greener on the other side. We persuade ourselves that the horizon of our dreams, ambitions and aspirations is where true happiness lies. Or does it?

Take a lesson from Gatsby. Don't be so caught up in "The (Day) Dream" that you fail to learn an important lesson. The art of being content in all circumstances.

An Extended Hand.

2009-01-19T23:46:00.010+09:00

A young man wearily trods on a poorly-lit road in the dark of night. As he makes his way, sweat drips liberally down his forehead and back. Behind him he carries a duffel bag filled with the overbearing weight of past, present, future, worry, regret, desire, ambition and anxiety.

After a moment that seems like forever the young man collapses in exhaustion. While recovering his strength he sees a bright light approaching him in the distance. As the light draws nearer he recognises who it is immediately.

'My Son, why are you lying on the side of the road in exhaustion?'

'My Lord, it is because I have been carrying this bag for so long. I just need a moments rest.'

'Why don't you give that bag to me? I can carry it for you.'

'No. I will carry it myself. This is my burden.'

'As you wish. Though I must inform you that this burden of yours is no burden to me for I overcame it long before you were born.'

'I know, but... but...'

'Let me walk with you. I will keep you company along this road and when you are ready I will take the burden from you completely. I must warn you though that you mustn't keep carrying it for much longer. I have much planned for you. They are plans to prosper and not to harm you - plans that won't be realised unless you surrender your burden completely to me.'

'I know my Lord,' the man sighs in resignation. 'I know.'

Viva La Musica: Soundtrack for 2008

2009-01-17T11:59:00.006+09:00

To be honest, 2008 wasn't the best of years for me. It was however a huge learning curve and I'm thankful for that. I have definitely come out of 2008 all the more wiser.

Here are a number of songs which I thought described my year pretty well. It is the 2008 playlist for the soundtrack of my life.

1. MGMT - Kids
2. Augustana - Meet You There
3. Kings of Leon - Use Somebody
4. OneRepublic - Stop and Stare
5. Gyroscope - Australia
6. Lifehouse - Disarray
7. OneRepublic - Goodbye Apathy
8. Augustana - Boston
9. Coldplay - Shiver
10. Jimmy Eat World - 23

~Viva La Musica!~

Reliving Life's Lighter Moments #1

2009-01-15T18:13:00.003+09:00

I was meeting up with a friend the other night for a long overdue catch up. We decided to go for a late night Macca's run and then head off to a picnic area by the river round the Swan Valley to eat and chat.

As we entered the picnic area, we noticed a number of cars with guys sitting by themselves in the driver's seat. May I add that the area was pitch dark. My friend and I didn't think twice about it. We parked the car and proceeded to eat our food, chat and listen to some music. After some time my friend decided to have a smoke, which is where things started to get a little interesting.

From inside the car, I noticed that my friend was approached by a man who looked about 40-something years old. A 15 minute conversation ensued. When my friend got back I asked him what the deal was with that random man.

The conversation was (roughly) as follows:

Random Man: Hello

My Friend: Hello

*Random chit-chat*

Random Man: So what brings you out here tonight?

My Friend: Well I was praying with my friend in the car earlier this evening and now we're just grabbing a bite to eat and catching up.

Random Man: Ah I see.

*More random chit-chat*

Random Man: Yeh it's a real nice night tonight. So do you know any other good gay meeting spots?

My Friend: Say what????

*30 seconds later - A car door slam and the screeching of tyres on the gravel*

Poems I Write: "A Fresh Start..."

2009-01-15T00:06:00.005+09:00

i desire an empty cup
devoid of history, past, memories
and any reputation that precedes
as a means to meet others
without the baggage that inevitably appears
with those pesky degrees of separation

i desire something creamy, cold and vanilla
yes i know it’s plain
but it provides opportunities
to add the toppings i want
rather than having to accept those flavours
currently offered to me everyday

i desire a particular artwork
“WHITE DOTS ON WHITE LINES ON A WHITE CANVAS”
a painting that will come at great cost
a requirement of personal sacrifice
even a journey outside the territory of comfort
but it’s a price i’m more than willing to pay

Yong Yi Lee

Written 26/06/08

Somewhere in the Middle.

2009-01-14T23:54:00.003+09:00

I love Perth. This is the hometown in which I have lived most of my life. Lately though, my zest for living here has taken a turn. The best way to describe it is a sense of stagnation/being somewhere in the middle/neither here nor there. I've felt as if I haven't been making progress. Everytime I try to move I hit a glass ceiling. It's hard to pinpoint exactly how this all came about, but let's say it all occurred through "a series of events".

Hopefully moving to Brisbane will allow me a chance to start new - a fresh start. Better make the most of it!

New Beginnings.

2009-01-13T23:49:00.001+09:00

Well it's been a long time coming, but here I am starting my 2nd blog.

I don't know who my readership will be and I am unsure as to how far this will go. Nonetheless, I will write for all to see - my lifesong memoirs.

I hope you enjoy.

~Yongz