Glorious Ruins.

It's been a while & I reckon it's time for a regular, good old-fashioned update on what's been happening... I've always been a big list-maker, so here's how life has been in the past couple of weeks in five parts:



1. Old friends, food, drink & live music.  


Five more weeks till Sweden & I'm treasuring every moment I have with the people here before I leave. Lunches at Marche & dinners at Saveur, watching the Goodfellas at Timbre with Tiara & Kieran whilst getting drowsy from the multiple LIITs & of course, the inevitable late-night suppers. Have also been spending a lot of time at the movies (Great Expectations, Now You See Me, World War Z & hell, even that monsters university animation), which is great except that I keep falling asleep halfway. It's been lovely, nonetheless.

2. Church Camp 2013: Serpong, Indonesia.


Wow. I can honestly say that this has been the best church camp I have ever gone for in the sixteen (yes, sixteen!) years of being an NLCCian. This year we had a combined camp with one of our sister churches in Serpong, a small township outside Jakarta. Church camp is always refreshing & something I look forward to every two years but there was just something special about this years' camp, a combination of certain events & the relationships built with people that made it different & perhaps even ground-breaking.

The highlights:

Churros from a shop called Churreria. We went after these deep-fried treats & their range of chocolate dips like rabid dogs, rushing to the mega mall (right next to our hotel) every night after service to get some. In all honesty, they weren't that fantastic, but somehow sharing these warm, sugary snacks with a bunch of people whose company you genuinely enjoy made them taste so much better.

We also patronized a very hipster cafe called d'journal (or 'DJ ournal' by most of us, coined by Schist) that served pretty good cafe lattes & an assortment of teas every single day. Great hangout spot & plus, they didn't kick us out till 2am.

Had the privilege to be a part of the craziest team in church camp, proudly named 'LIGHTLY SALTED', an eclectic mix of odds & ends: teenagers, little kids & a bunch of parents. It's amazing how we managed to do the wacky night item & the cheer, thanks to our leaders (Alex & Bea) & frankly, because of how creative the parents were. Always ended up in stitches at the end of each rehearsal & enjoyed every moment together. What an awesome bunch of people!

This was the other youth team lead by Pat & Megan (my cool roomie since 2012 lol) that was so amazing, both in their cheer & name & wacky night item. Pity we didn't get to spend much time together though.

Another amazing part of church camp was the worship. I remember just feeling so overwhelmed & partially frustrated before camp at the thought of doing/leading worship for four services, worrying about practice times & music sheets & the biggest headache of all, setlists. Oh, dreaded setlists. It didn't help that my throat felt as raw as sandpaper &that I could barely string a sentence together without a hacking cough. Really could not see how church camp could be enjoyable with so much to do, but God really came through in a time of desperation & weariness & did something so powerful through us in the praise & worship sessions. It seems surreal to talk about it now, about how everything just came together & about how people abandoned themselves fully to worship despite the crackling sound system & power failures. & this was regardless of whether it was a full band or just a guitar & two voices leading. It just showed me how much God could move when we fully relied on Him! I'm beginning to understand what people mean when they say that excellence in worship comes not solely from our skills but from the trust that each musician had in each other, & the trust that a worship leader has on his or her team & vice versa. I just have to say that I'm part of an amazing, amazing team.

It's a crazy rant, I know! It was just cool to see the church, particularly our youth group, be so deep in worship night after night. Not caring about what another person was doing, not caring about how he or she looked like to another. It was as if a dam had broken, as if a wall had come down. What a privilege it was, to be a part of it all.

Besides worship & all the team stuff, we didn't do much else except hang out at DJ-ournal or each others' rooms, talking late into the night. The last night, after megs & I invited a bunch of meandering youth to our room, word unexpectedly got around that everyone was gathering at 1106 & by 1am, there were about twenty people squished in our tiny hotel room. It was a little insane, how we managed to order room service & play bridge & the classic 'animal' game despite how exhausted everyone was... Great great fun though.

Though it was mad tiring with all the music rehearsals & team rehearsals & planning for a birthday surprise (Happy birthday Anthea & Beatrice! Love you both.) while also attempting to squeeze in time with my family, I had a real blast. Church camp has just barely passed but I'm already eager for youth camp 2014 & what new things it'll bring!



3. Work.

After deliberating on work opportunities for a while, I ended up helping out at Oops Asia again this summer. It's always a privilege & joy to go back because everyone feels like family & we always have a good time together, whether if it's at a ministry event or jamming spontaneously in the studio or just laughing over something during lunch.

Particularly excited for our new media videos that we're currently experimenting with & shooting. I love little artsy ventures like these where it allows our team to get creative & create something uniquely 'ours'.

(P.S. what I wore to work sometime last week. Love the chill office vibe, something I often take for granted!)




4. Rest.

There isn't much time for this at all, but when there's an hour or so to spare, I love delving deep into old comforts: poetry, song-writing or best of all, afternoon naps. Can't wait for the couple of weeks just before I leave where I can have tons more of this!

Also, having tea in my lovely, new, firetruck-red tea set! Back story: Last tuesday after a gruelling day of work & before young adults lifenet, I met Andry alone for a quick talk at the coffeeshop because he said he had something 'urgent' to discuss with me. After the talk (which had made me slightly anxious the preceding days but turned out to be about nothing much at all), we walked over to church in time for lifenet to start. But when andry opened the door to the main sanctuary, I got a whole lot of poppers & noise & a rousing 'SURPRISE' thrown at me by a combination of youth & young adults...! What a crazy surprise. Turns out that lifenet was but a farce & that Jenn & Jordan etc had been planning a surprise 21st birthday party for me for a while. The rationale was that I would be in Sweden during my actual birthday & they couldn't celebrate it with me, but it was still totally absurd because my birthday wasn't for another six months. Still, it was really, really sweet (until Circle of Death happened... HAHA). I received a tea set & a double set of TWG teas from everyone, which shows how well they know me ;) I can't believe how fortunate I am to have such thoughtful & amazing friends, & I'm grateful for them everyday.

So thank you all, it was incredible.



5. Sunsets & stuff

Photos taken during our nature trip to chek jawa last Friday, which I had to wake up at 550am for. I surprised myself & a lot of other people simply by getting up at all & staggering out of the house. Interesting trip & good fellowship & took some nice photos, but it's going to take much more than this the next time I wake up before dawn.

That's about it for now. It's currently 6am & I've spent the past two & a half hours just putting this together... somehow, it just felt important to do so. I could go on, but it would be mad to continue & so ends the longest post ever.

Will write again soon, but for now, good night!

The tide is going home.

Going for a music festival is nearly always a tiring affair; the waiting, the jostling with a sweaty throng of people, and standing for hours on end. It hardly seems worth the effort, and there always comes a point where, out of frustration & pure exhaustion, I inevitably question the reason I came at all.

But then there is the singular moment that comes, unpredictable & sweeping as a tidal wave, a moment so elusive and mysterious that up till now, I feel ill-equipped to describe it. It comes, strong & tactile & palpable, & then ebbs away as if it were a dream. It is the electric moment where everyone stops whatever they are doing, the shoving or screaming or slugging beer or making out, & the air becomes filled with something that I can only describe as the spirit of harmony. It is the moment where in the three-minute space of an otherwise ordinary song, a thousand individuals are transformed into a single body with a solitary pulse.

And this is the beautiful thing: In that instant, no one cares if you are singing off-key or if you don't know all the words or how different you are from the next person, because all that matters is that a piece of music has brought us together like no one & nothing ever can. Sometimes, in the spirit of it all, I take a look around & nearly say aloud to no one in particular, What a strange world we live in. I want to be present in it all. It is then when I realise what a song can do, & suddenly remember why I always come back.

Paris, 1899

A continuation from here. 

Take time & imagine

A landscape, like hands, warm

& a plane melting into clouds

silently & beautifully as we watch

from down below,

Rose.

Imagine

A scene, like a film, unfolding

enfolding, embracing

tasting like mulled wine, in my mouth

on an autumn day

Cold tongues licking cold ice-creams

A divot, in the glass, in the kaleidoscope, in eyes

Colours aflame

Don't look,

see.

People in graceful waves

These houses must be made of paper, I'm sure

Buildings transform into

shades,

& well

There are a hundred ways to look at the city

but I like my view the best of all.

By the river

the birds cry out,

& the river begins to sing.

________________________________________________

A lot of the time, for me, poetry comes out of a single moment of intense emotion & flows out as if it were seamless dialogue between people. The greatest instance of this happening was in Paris last year, on a three-week-long backpacking trip with two dear friends. I remember we were sitting on the left side of the River Seine, taking photographs & savouring salted caramel & vanilla ice-creams that we had bought with the last of our money. Paris, in all its romanticism & sepia tones & language with its elegant twists & turns, is an inspiration in itself. I remember that it was very cold & the wind was very harsh (even though it was summer) & we were all laughing at the irony of eating ice-cream in such freezing weather, & the very posh & reserved Parisians were looking crossly at us but we didn't care & laughed anyway, & it was all very beautiful & at that moment I started making leaps into my notebook & scribbled masses of words, lines, stanzas. It was just a pity, to not capture that single moment in time on paper, if you know what I mean. I sent it home on a postcard to my family the very next day.

There's a lot that goes into the process of writing poetry, the conscious or unconscious aspect of it all, that's become very interesting to me. Over the course of this semester, I've realised that writers basically fall into two groups: those who sit down & dedicate a portion of their day to writing & mulling over ideas, carefully constructing poems over a duration & creating masterpieces & inspired projects. While I respect these people very much, it's an attitude that I can never hope to emulate because as said before, most of the time, inspiration for me comes from an image or an atmosphere, & transforms itself into a poem or a song. To be honest, it sometimes feels like I'm cheating, like I have snatched the line from thin air & made it my own...

On writers.

'Great House'

Nicole Krauss

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I love this extract where Krauss talks about the world of a writer. Taking an advanced poetry class this semester has been incredibly challenging, and different to what I had originally expected. While studying poetry spanning centuries has been wonderful, one cannot help but feel a degree of discomfort when exposed to something entirely novel, like this, and being told that it is poetry. 

I've learnt a couple of things though, about the process of creating poetry and the foundation of which it is built on. For aspiring poets and writers, the first thing to do is not to ask what qualifies as poetry but rather, what we can turn into poetry. It was difficult and tricky at first, of course, stepping out of my expectations of what poetry is supposed to be, and accepting that it merely is. It's funny, how at the beginning, I would ask questions like 'What does this line mean?' or 'What does the author want from this poem?' but along the way I've learnt that sometimes poetry doesn't have to be understood so much as it needs to be felt. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that exploring and being exposed to the myriad of rhythms & forms & types is only the initial step that builds the foundation for your own poetry. To be exposed is to learn, but to only look at different poetry forms with disdain is to put your creativity and artistic style in a box, and I'm learning to accept all kinds, I'm learning to enjoy. I don't want to put my idea of poetry in a confined space. I'd like to believe that poets are capable of the fierce invention Krauss speaks of, that we create, alter and amend, and like many spheres of art, poetry is freedom.  

Dear Friend,

'So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.'

________________________________________________________




It's hard to describe in words, how much this novel means to me. I have read coming-of-age books like The Catcher In The Rye or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn before, but up till when I was fifteen, I don't think I've ever felt like a book really understood me. That is, until The Perks of Being A Wallflower.

I remember reading it for the first time and just being incredibly astounded and moved by the sheer profundity of this story, this small collection of letters. It was as if all the weariness & frustration & things I could never quite actualize into words were present in that text and the spaces in between, all the adolescent awkwardness I've ever felt was reflected in the protagonist Charlie. It's amazing, to see your own experiences come alive on a page.

I don't think it's fair for people to sneer and say that The Perks of Being A Wallflower is just another book about teenagers and sex and drugs, because these things don't make it any less important, they make it more real. And it's not all about the sex and drugs, because all of us have had Patricks & Sams & Bills & Mary-Elizabeths in our lives, and all of us have felt the bit of magic found in the three-minute space of a song. Some might think that there is no point in sharing or writing or reading about these stories because everyone else has experienced it before but there is, because sometimes, we just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even if they could have.


We just need to know that these people exist. 

On art & poetry

Ever since coming back from the States, I've been writing a lot more. Jotted anecdotes, notebook doodles, song lyrics, short prose, etc. I miss the holidays because of the abundance of time where one can write. Because of the poetry module I'm taking this semester, I've been thinking a lot about the creative process & the mixing of poetry with different kinds of mediums... It's interesting, really. 

Before my mom became a housewife, she was a graphic designer specializing in font design & layout. Sometime in the 1980s, her company was commissioned by the American furniture company, Herman Miller, to create something; a designed product to be sent out as corporate gifts. This was what they came up with. She gave me this unframed piece two years ago, & it's been hanging on my bedroom wall since then. 

I can't pronounce half the words on the handkerchief, but I love how art & words were fused together to make the final product, which is more than the sum total of its parts. The way I see it, it's no different from writing Haiku, or a sonnet, or sticking to any kind of poetic convention (like following a certain rhyme scheme, or creating a kind of form). The only thing that's different is that with graphic art, you're working with space, & colour, & the shape of words, while maintaining the flow of the poetry or prose. I've tried it before, & well, it isn't in the least bit easy... That's not to say I'm giving up. I'm trying, trying harder. It's a process. A work in progress.

Quotes from the Lesser-Known: The End

'The idea for this compilation came about like most ideas often do: while I was checking Twitter & Tumblr & the rest of the new-fangled social networking sites on an otherwise mundane afternoon. I don't quite know how it happened, but I was just suddenly aware of how much & how often we quote famous people. People, myself included, are constantly filling their blogs with verbatim from the influentials: authors, poets, celebrities, musicians, politicians, artists, philosophers, & the like... & for some reason, it got me a bit upset. Please don't get me wrong: it isn't bad to quote the aforementioned. They were, are, famous for a reason; if not for wisdom or advice or life experience, at least for being wildly entertaining. It does lead us to the question though... What is worth quoting? What is it exactly that deems a person 'quotable'? Surely it is not based solely on the worldly prominence or social status of the individual, but the weight of meaning in that statement that deigns itself worthy to be remembered. I'd like to think ordinary people like you & me say extraordinary things every day, that everyone in this seven billion population on Earth has something to say, simple or profound. 

So here we go, these are Quotes from the Lesser-Known.'

Prologue to the QFTLK compilation

Stacy T, 20

Too embarrassed to write a self-professed, self-praising, one-liner biography

___________________________________________________



It all started from a creative writing project final. I remember writing something like this in my journal, two weeks before it was due: 'Oh god I have no idea what to do. A blank slate. Nil nil nil. Gods of creative writing, HALP!' Excuse me, I was a bit deranged by then, starved of sleep & good ideas.

When I finally struck creativity gold (or at least, I'd like the think I did), the problem of the number of subjects came up. Who would help me with this mad prospect? I had less than two weeks, so I set my bar pretty low: at least fifteen people would be good enough to make a decent final project. But it was amazing, the amount of help that poured in. Family, friends, colleagues & even acquaintances, all of you amazing people. People set aside time for video interviews, long talks over coffee, phone calls (long-distance, mind you), random polaroid-taking sessions, answering emails etc. After two weeks of working, I looked at my scrapbook consisting of nearly forty interviews & a video compilation, & almost wept with relief. I was exhausted, but overwhelmingly happy.

There were so many more wonderful interviews, but the ones that were put up here best represented their respective fields & topics of music, photography, writing, acting etc etc. (You can ask me for the video or the complete book if you'd like a peek though, I'd be happy to pass it to you). It's a little late, but I just want to say that I loved every minute of this project, & that I enjoyed sharing all of it with you.

Here are the previous QFTLK entries:

(1) Claudia, Paris & Travel
(2) Lizzie M,Theater 
(3) Samuel, Running
(4) Jennifer, Books
(5) J.J, Music
(6) August, Photography & the Arts
(7) Myself, Love & Finer Things 
(8) Megan, Art & Happiness
(9) Nicholas, Music
(10) Swee Cheng, Travelling & Photography
(11) Samantha, Writing
(12) Alarice, Purpose
(13) Marc, Journalism
(14) Vanessa, Books & The Imagination
(15) Jayne, Dance
(16) Sheri, Art 
(17) Alex, Love
(18) Dylan, Music & The Beatles
(19) Tiara, Education
(20) Melanie, Fashion

Quotes from the Lesser-Known: Part 12

'You've been to so many places, due to the nature of your job and throughout your childhood. Is there any place in particular you'd like to live in, and why?' 

'Honestly, it's wherever I feel God wants me to be, wherever I have purpose, you know? (laughs) So it's not necessarily about wanting to live in a country like say, the States, so I can have a big house there, because these things don't really matter much to me. Honestly, I don't mind living in a box in some third-world country as long as I have purpose and I have an impact.'

Alarice T. 26

Singer-songwriter, recording artist

You can find out more about Alarice & her music here.

Violet

Today is just one of those days where everything seems a bit off. The tea is cold, the favourite movies are less entertaining & the comfort novels that I run to every time don't seem quite right. I am tired when I have done nothing all day. I feel like crying one second, and then I find myself laughing at absolutely nothing in another. I play guitar and listen to music and try to write, but the notebook paper remains blank, like the insides of my mind.

I know I sound a little bit depressed, but honest to God, I'm not. Maybe it's just too much Plath or Foer I've been reading lately, or work coming up next week (still not entirely sure how I feel about that), and having so many things on my mind. It's just one of those days, and tomorrow is a new one, so there.

Clandestine places & little things

Once or twice

I have been tempted

on occasion 

to run away from my love of the sea

A love that could ruin me

Out of salt

and black ink

He was borne

So we waltz with a heavy step

with rosebuds peeking out beneath my dress

Oh the confidence of young lovers

But now 

the light in your eyes is dying

and the day has come

where I no longer yearn, 

skin of skin

The day has come

where the man of steel and wood

has become sparse

and silver doorknobs appear

where his eyes once were

So I sit deep in forest crevices

at the edges of cliffs,

and dream of the days

with kisses of melted butter

and unimportant things

Yet I feel less like myself than ever

The air smells of tang and despair

For it was I, who first loved you

from across the sea

___________________________________________

It's easy to feel insignificant. Sometimes, when I'm sitting at a cafe and having a perfectly amiable conversation with a friend about literature or films, I get this jolt of fear. I suddenly think of all the thoughts and conversations I've ever had, things I had thought were profound and original, and how they have all already happened. Doesn't it scare you tremendously? That your every blossoming epiphany about life and its pinnacle events have already taken place somewhere in time or space, recorded in a book of sorts. Who are we then, if not vessels to hold the recycled thoughts and experiences of greater people? Who are we, if not brilliant? 

It makes me wonder... How does one cope with the feeling of insignificance? We bake cupcakes & take long walks & write long, sad poems & read old novels who have become friends & drink mug after mug after mug of tea. We do extraordinarily, ordinary things. We do ordinary things, because often, it is the ordinary things that make us happy. And I've come to realise that in the end, one's happiness is truly the only thing that matters. 

Lent: Day 18

It's been a tough eighteen days, ya'll. It's not easy to give up two meals a day, especially on sixteen-hour school days that is full of commuting, essay-writing and the like. But this fast has been wonderful; somehow I've managed to keep the intense hunger at bay and use the extra hours for QT, which has been rewarding for the soul.

Food-wise: I've found that stuffing your face with carbs and protein during that singular meal will leave one nauseated and sickly for the rest of the night. I've not a fan of vegetables or salads, but I've been eating a lot of this dish lately for that very reason. 

It was 'created' a couple of months ago, from a box of almost-stale swiss mushrooms and a box of pea sprouts. The tomato pipérade used in this dish involves a whole lot of simmering and reducing, so pasta sauce does just fine! This warm salad tastes better if left to stand for a couple of hours.The salad is best served with toasted slices of rustic bread with a dry crumb, to eat with the leftover olive oil and vinaigrette. 

Pea Sprout & Zucchini Salad

Ingredients

1 medium/large zucchini

20 red cherry tomatoes

25 medium swiss brown mushrooms

75g of fresh pea sprouts

2 cloves of garlic

Extra Virgin olive oil

White wine vinegar 

Tomato pipérade / pasta sauce (Prego)

Fresh & dried basil

1 bay leaf

A few sprigs of fresh thyme

Salt & Pepper

1. Prep: Slice the zucchini into half-inch thick crescents. Then, halve the cherry tomatoes (do not throw them in whole. Cutting them into half means that the dish will be more flavourful from the pulp inside). Chop the cloves of garlic finely.Take the stalks off the mushrooms and slice them thinly. Do not be surprised by the quantity of the mushrooms; the entire mound will reduce in size by at least half after sauteing and reducing.

2. First, heat a good lug of olive oil in a large skillet (at least 12 inches in diameter) at medium heat. Add in the zucchini and sauté for about 4 - 5 minutes, stirring and flipping the slices constantly. 

3. When the zucchini is just about to turn tender, throw in majority of the pea sprouts. Stir-fry for about 2 - 3 minutes

4. Add in the tomatoes, basil, thyme, bay leaf and a heaped tablespoonful of tomato pipérade / good-quality pasta sauce (Prego or Dei Fratelli). Stir to mix everything. Reduce heat to low and cover with lid, allowing the flavours to meld for a few more minutes. Put the vegetables aside.

5. Add more olive oil and the chopped garlic on the skillet on medium heat, adding a tablespoon of olive oil if necessary. Sauté mushrooms for about 5 - 7 minutes. Sprinkle with sea salt and freshly grated black pepper. Cover with lid, and let the mushrooms cook under low heat for another 3 minutes.

6. Take off lid and combine mushrooms with the vegetables. Add a good splash of white wine vinegar and more olive oil for dressing.

7. Add a generous dash of salt (1/3 table spoon) and more pepper. Adjust according to taste. Give the remaining pea sprouts a quick fry in the pan (not till limp) and place on top of the entire salad for garnish. Remove bay leaf. 

Serve with toasted focaccia or ciabatta slices 

The light in your eyes

I think that it's nice sometimes to watch people do something they love, even though you might not understand it very much yourself. Like watching people who love music talk about it, or listen to their favourite piece. The way their hands move, the nuances in facial expression, a creased brow slowly seeping into relaxation. It's like watching the truest form of happiness.

Be not inhospitable to angels

On Wednesday, 14th December 2011, George Whitman died at home in his apartment above his bookshop at the fine age of ninety eight. He will always be remembered as the man who brought fine English literature to the Parisian masses, as the angel who lead many to the joy of reading, and as the Don Quixote of the Latin Quarter. I, for one, will always be grateful for the opportunity I had to experience the magic of Shakespeare and Company. You will be missed.

Oh, the places you'll go

School doesn't really feel like it has started with CNY holidays just around the corner! Explored Chinatown for a bit today and started to really get into the holiday spirit... Of course, the slew of new year shopping and anticipated haul of moolah doesn't hurt.

Besides the odd book sale or cup of tea with friends, going for Foster the People last Saturday was pretty amazing. It was an eclectic mix of fist-pumping beats and headbanging moments. Looking forward to Laneway next month hurrah!

On another note, I'm really enjoying the creative writing module I'm taking with a friend this semester. We read an excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet written by German Poet Rilke (whose series of beautiful poems about Angels I remember vividly) during our first lesson and discussed the reason for writing. We write, because it is a baring of souls, because it is the depth of human nature, and because we can't help but spill our thoughts into words. It was such a peculiar, yet pleasant feeling, just sitting quietly at a table and writing whatever comes to mind.

Somehow, I've got a feeling that this semester is going to be much more enjoyable than the last :)