Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Learning.
I am learning:
- that a calling cannot and should not consume you.
- that at the end, what's most important, is that love relationship between our hearts and who we call God.
- that as we love Him more and more, our callings will beckon us, in clearer ways, in ways unimaginable.
- that our callings become toilsome burdens only because we see ourselves as mere servants, and forget that ultimately, we are also God's friend and child.
- that dreaming, like love, is a risk. And that while I'm dead scared (of both loving and dreaming), I think I will be less so in time.
-and that... it's okay to dream. It's okay to keep dreaming. It surprised me to find myself surprised to realise that, all over again.
And so it no longer bothers me so much anymore, to know for sure exactly what my calling is. Because out of love and dreams, trust and faith, tomorrow will become clear and certain eventually.
And that gives me great joy and freedom, to see it getting clearer, as I live in today, every day.
- that a calling cannot and should not consume you.
- that at the end, what's most important, is that love relationship between our hearts and who we call God.
- that as we love Him more and more, our callings will beckon us, in clearer ways, in ways unimaginable.
- that our callings become toilsome burdens only because we see ourselves as mere servants, and forget that ultimately, we are also God's friend and child.
- that dreaming, like love, is a risk. And that while I'm dead scared (of both loving and dreaming), I think I will be less so in time.
-and that... it's okay to dream. It's okay to keep dreaming. It surprised me to find myself surprised to realise that, all over again.
And so it no longer bothers me so much anymore, to know for sure exactly what my calling is. Because out of love and dreams, trust and faith, tomorrow will become clear and certain eventually.
And that gives me great joy and freedom, to see it getting clearer, as I live in today, every day.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My ugly hands.
They were bent, distorted and ugly. You might even have suspected they lost their function altogether. I remember looking at those pair of hands and trying very hard to recall the seven salient points about the manifestation of rheumatoid arthritis in a patient's hands.
I remember Mdm T even though I met her many months ago because I could never forget the colour in the words of her voice- that sense of utter dejection, and rejection.
"They are so ugly."
Que xian. It means defect in mandarin. Ren jia kan dao wo de que xian jiu pa. People see my defect and become scared.
I don't know if I said the right thing. When faced with such circumstances on a daily basis, very few of us ever do. But I remember replying in mandarin, "Mdm T, don't be sad. Each one of us has a defect too, just that some of them are visible, and some are not. But we all carry defects (wo men dou you que xian)- you're not alone."
I think those words hit me far harder than they did her. Each one of us has a defect, just that some of them are visible, and some are not. But we all do.
I met up with some friends today. One had injured her knee so badly during dance training that she felt embarrassed climbing the stairs at the train station, simply because she had to walk so slowly because of the pain; another has been on long-term medication because of lupus, a condition where the body's immune system attacks itself; yet another two were not in our midst because one had been warded for gall-stones and another had suffered a slipped disc.
The funny thing is, we are all less than twenty-five... looking healthy, strong, ready to take on the world. Yet, who but God and ourselves know the hidden infirmities and afflictions buried within our bodies.
Some defects are more visible than others. But defects they are, nonetheless.
It reminded me of all the psychiatric patients I had seen walk into the doctor's room. Each had a normal-looking face, a face just like yours and mine. A face that could have been you or I had our circumstances changed. Yet, who would have guessed the extent of debilitation each of their masked secrets had caused them. A young man whom my tutor had assigned me to interview turned beetroot red as he spoke softly to me. He is recovering from a social disorder which was so severe at one point that it was impossible to talk to anyone of the opposite sex, impossible to take public transport, impossible to attend school and impossible to simply go out for a run because "everyone is watching me". I then realised he was blushing at me.
Who would have known?
It's so easy to be insensitive, get mad or pass callous remarks when we don't see beneath the surface. And when we do see the visible defects of others, why is it that we run a mile away, forgetting that our defects, too, lay within our skin. I thought of how often I can still laugh and joke sometimes even when I'm feeling terrible inside- not everything is visible, always.
Maybe it's about time we realised that like Mdm T, we all each have a defect too. Wo men dou you que xian. And there's no need for us to ever run away because of a pair of ugly hands, because each of us owns them too.
When we finally remind ourselves, over and over, that we all have a pair of ugly hands too, it is perhaps then, that we can be a little bit kinder, a little bit gentler and little bit more forgiving, more human for our brother in need.
The grossly distorted hands belonged to Mdm T. "So what did you use to do?" I asked.
"I was a hawker," she replied gently in mandarin. " I used to help my son cut vegetables and meat at his noodle stall. We were doing very well. Then I had this painful arthritis and my fingers became like that. I could no longer cut vegetables because of the pain so I turned to serve the customers noodles instead. But people see my que xian (defect) and become afraid of eating my food. So I stopped working."
I remember Mdm T even though I met her many months ago because I could never forget the colour in the words of her voice- that sense of utter dejection, and rejection.
"They are so ugly."
Que xian. It means defect in mandarin. Ren jia kan dao wo de que xian jiu pa. People see my defect and become scared.
I don't know if I said the right thing. When faced with such circumstances on a daily basis, very few of us ever do. But I remember replying in mandarin, "Mdm T, don't be sad. Each one of us has a defect too, just that some of them are visible, and some are not. But we all carry defects (wo men dou you que xian)- you're not alone."
I think those words hit me far harder than they did her. Each one of us has a defect, just that some of them are visible, and some are not. But we all do.
I met up with some friends today. One had injured her knee so badly during dance training that she felt embarrassed climbing the stairs at the train station, simply because she had to walk so slowly because of the pain; another has been on long-term medication because of lupus, a condition where the body's immune system attacks itself; yet another two were not in our midst because one had been warded for gall-stones and another had suffered a slipped disc.
The funny thing is, we are all less than twenty-five... looking healthy, strong, ready to take on the world. Yet, who but God and ourselves know the hidden infirmities and afflictions buried within our bodies.
Some defects are more visible than others. But defects they are, nonetheless.
It reminded me of all the psychiatric patients I had seen walk into the doctor's room. Each had a normal-looking face, a face just like yours and mine. A face that could have been you or I had our circumstances changed. Yet, who would have guessed the extent of debilitation each of their masked secrets had caused them. A young man whom my tutor had assigned me to interview turned beetroot red as he spoke softly to me. He is recovering from a social disorder which was so severe at one point that it was impossible to talk to anyone of the opposite sex, impossible to take public transport, impossible to attend school and impossible to simply go out for a run because "everyone is watching me". I then realised he was blushing at me.
Who would have known?
It's so easy to be insensitive, get mad or pass callous remarks when we don't see beneath the surface. And when we do see the visible defects of others, why is it that we run a mile away, forgetting that our defects, too, lay within our skin. I thought of how often I can still laugh and joke sometimes even when I'm feeling terrible inside- not everything is visible, always.
Maybe it's about time we realised that like Mdm T, we all each have a defect too. Wo men dou you que xian. And there's no need for us to ever run away because of a pair of ugly hands, because each of us owns them too.
When we finally remind ourselves, over and over, that we all have a pair of ugly hands too, it is perhaps then, that we can be a little bit kinder, a little bit gentler and little bit more forgiving, more human for our brother in need.
Be kinder than necessary
for everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle.
- Anonymous
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Neetu Chandra Looks Hot In Black Top
Recently, when actress Neetu Chandra (of Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! fame) agreed to do a bold photo shoot for a men’s magazine, she hardly realised it would spark controversy and outrage from political affiliates creating some problems with the shoot.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
What's your Story?
They look just like your average joe. Or like your father, or mother, even. It's scary to think about it, but it could have been you or me. Just that this time, it's them that's all. It could happen to us tomorrow, the day after. It could happen to our loved ones, too.
They walk in, sit down, you wonder how you could possibly help someone who looks so fine and dandy and then you listen, and see the cracks beneath the veneer.
So, how can I help you today?
She looks perfectly normal, like any middle-aged lady you'd see walking down the street. A little on the plump side, perhaps, and you judge her immediately, critically and unforgivably, for being another mother who could do with a little more exercise and self-care.
But then you find out she walks slow because she had an operation to remove the cervical cancer last year, the monster which took away her plans to have more children. The doctors told her early on, but she sat on the cancer for two whole years because "I just could not accept it." You want to dismiss her as being silly, but you forget, sometimes things happen at bad times. People take time.
And oh, yes, by the way, she's here because after the cancer, she found out her husband hid an affair from her for nearly a decade, and her entire extended family knew but hid it from her. So she'd like some professional help, please. So she can function again because sometimes the headaches get so bad. And oh yes, so she can be strong for her children and so she doesn't get any suicidal ideations.
A young man comes in with his elderly mother. He looks like... he's my age. He smiles, he's rather charming actually. Then his mother tells you her son's been telling her that people are spying on him. He drinks a bottle of cough syrup a day to cope. Her other son has schizophrenia, too. They don't know how to cope-he's just had a baby, schizophrenia is debilitating, chronic and progressive. They come from a low-income family. He still works at an IT firm, but he's not sure if he can work anymore.
They look just like your average mother-and-son.
Then of course, you meet the occasional person whose appearance screams out. She's dressed in gothic black with a shock of crimson hair, has multiple tattoos, a piercing in her lip, and two previous abortions. She looks haggard, old even, but she's only twenty or so. You really want to judge her, but can you blame her if she was brought up in a dysfunctional family which abused her?
They all look normal. But one has schizophrenia, the other a depressive disorder, still another a borderline personality disorder. I'm doing my psychiatric posting now. I'm learning, that it's so easy to reach out to the obviously needy and disadvantaged, but do we not realise, that these normal-looking people with issues, problems and illnesses are all around us.
How our inconsistencies baffle me.
One moment, we're waxing lyrical about how much we really ought to help the poor, the needy, the disadvantaged, but the next, we're murmurring about some petty injustice done unto us by a friend or family, simmering with irritation or bristling with annoyance. And so often we forget, how nothing is ever what it seems, that people have illnesses and problems you will never be able to tell just by looking at them.
It seems to me, that for most, it's a lot easier to extend grace to someone we think deserving enough to earn it. It's hard to love normal people, friends or family who may ruffle our feathers. It's a lot simpler to love someone whom we bear no record of grudges, whose poverty is worn right there on his sleeve.
How chillingly inconsistent we can be.
And this disturbs me because it seems we have not understood the weight of what it means to always, always extend help to the poor and needy. It seems we have not unveiled our eyes to the immense poverty we have in riches, the invisible distracted by the visible. We are cordial to outsiders, callous at home; polite to strangers but brisk with our loved ones; generous to villagers and mercenary to our fellow urbanfolk. How can this be.
It seems, we find it easy to love when the evidence of poverty is apparent. And why are we most unforgiving to those closest to us.
I am learning, life is full of the unspoken, the invisible. And in some way, we are all blind. Blind to the poverty and the neediness of each and every individual, simply because pride and judgement are heavy veils. I am learning, how not to judge, how to give others the benefit of the doubt, how to love with empathy.
I don't know when it was that I stopped looking for seats on the train anymore. Once, I gave up my seat for an elderly woman, only to have her give it up for her young daughter in her twenties, who looked perfectly normal if not a little grim. I talked with her. She just found out she has thrombocytopenia or a low blood platelet count. She feels incredibly weak and depressed all the time. She really, really needed a seat on that train. Who would have known?
So I've stopped looking for seats on trains, and have learnt the joy of reading while standing. I've learnt to enjoy sitting on seats which face the back of buses, because I've met people who just hate those seats because they make them puke. I happen to like going backwards on a bus- I find it rather poetic to watch life from a different perspective.
If only we knew the Stories behind each perfectly normal-looking individual, we may love more deeply, show more grace, extend a kinder helping hand. And perhaps, the same goes for our loved ones, too. For have we considered that for every grudge we bear against their faults, they too could have a terrible cloud behind them too? We just assume they don't. And so we judge, bear grudges and hate the very ones we ought to love.
I am learning, that things are never what they seem- Perfect and Normal rarely are who they are thought to be. I am learning, that even in Singapore (or especially so), we are living among the Poor. I am learning, that in some way, you and I are poor and needy, too.
I am learning, still.
They walk in, sit down, you wonder how you could possibly help someone who looks so fine and dandy and then you listen, and see the cracks beneath the veneer.
So, how can I help you today?
She looks perfectly normal, like any middle-aged lady you'd see walking down the street. A little on the plump side, perhaps, and you judge her immediately, critically and unforgivably, for being another mother who could do with a little more exercise and self-care.
But then you find out she walks slow because she had an operation to remove the cervical cancer last year, the monster which took away her plans to have more children. The doctors told her early on, but she sat on the cancer for two whole years because "I just could not accept it." You want to dismiss her as being silly, but you forget, sometimes things happen at bad times. People take time.
And oh, yes, by the way, she's here because after the cancer, she found out her husband hid an affair from her for nearly a decade, and her entire extended family knew but hid it from her. So she'd like some professional help, please. So she can function again because sometimes the headaches get so bad. And oh yes, so she can be strong for her children and so she doesn't get any suicidal ideations.
A young man comes in with his elderly mother. He looks like... he's my age. He smiles, he's rather charming actually. Then his mother tells you her son's been telling her that people are spying on him. He drinks a bottle of cough syrup a day to cope. Her other son has schizophrenia, too. They don't know how to cope-he's just had a baby, schizophrenia is debilitating, chronic and progressive. They come from a low-income family. He still works at an IT firm, but he's not sure if he can work anymore.
They look just like your average mother-and-son.
Then of course, you meet the occasional person whose appearance screams out. She's dressed in gothic black with a shock of crimson hair, has multiple tattoos, a piercing in her lip, and two previous abortions. She looks haggard, old even, but she's only twenty or so. You really want to judge her, but can you blame her if she was brought up in a dysfunctional family which abused her?
They all look normal. But one has schizophrenia, the other a depressive disorder, still another a borderline personality disorder. I'm doing my psychiatric posting now. I'm learning, that it's so easy to reach out to the obviously needy and disadvantaged, but do we not realise, that these normal-looking people with issues, problems and illnesses are all around us.
How our inconsistencies baffle me.
One moment, we're waxing lyrical about how much we really ought to help the poor, the needy, the disadvantaged, but the next, we're murmurring about some petty injustice done unto us by a friend or family, simmering with irritation or bristling with annoyance. And so often we forget, how nothing is ever what it seems, that people have illnesses and problems you will never be able to tell just by looking at them.
It seems to me, that for most, it's a lot easier to extend grace to someone we think deserving enough to earn it. It's hard to love normal people, friends or family who may ruffle our feathers. It's a lot simpler to love someone whom we bear no record of grudges, whose poverty is worn right there on his sleeve.
How chillingly inconsistent we can be.
And this disturbs me because it seems we have not understood the weight of what it means to always, always extend help to the poor and needy. It seems we have not unveiled our eyes to the immense poverty we have in riches, the invisible distracted by the visible. We are cordial to outsiders, callous at home; polite to strangers but brisk with our loved ones; generous to villagers and mercenary to our fellow urbanfolk. How can this be.
It seems, we find it easy to love when the evidence of poverty is apparent. And why are we most unforgiving to those closest to us.
I am learning, life is full of the unspoken, the invisible. And in some way, we are all blind. Blind to the poverty and the neediness of each and every individual, simply because pride and judgement are heavy veils. I am learning, how not to judge, how to give others the benefit of the doubt, how to love with empathy.
I don't know when it was that I stopped looking for seats on the train anymore. Once, I gave up my seat for an elderly woman, only to have her give it up for her young daughter in her twenties, who looked perfectly normal if not a little grim. I talked with her. She just found out she has thrombocytopenia or a low blood platelet count. She feels incredibly weak and depressed all the time. She really, really needed a seat on that train. Who would have known?
So I've stopped looking for seats on trains, and have learnt the joy of reading while standing. I've learnt to enjoy sitting on seats which face the back of buses, because I've met people who just hate those seats because they make them puke. I happen to like going backwards on a bus- I find it rather poetic to watch life from a different perspective.
If only we knew the Stories behind each perfectly normal-looking individual, we may love more deeply, show more grace, extend a kinder helping hand. And perhaps, the same goes for our loved ones, too. For have we considered that for every grudge we bear against their faults, they too could have a terrible cloud behind them too? We just assume they don't. And so we judge, bear grudges and hate the very ones we ought to love.
I am learning, that things are never what they seem- Perfect and Normal rarely are who they are thought to be. I am learning, that even in Singapore (or especially so), we are living among the Poor. I am learning, that in some way, you and I are poor and needy, too.
I am learning, still.
“He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for his Maker,
but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.”
-Proverbs 14:31
Monday, May 18, 2009
Ueno Juri
Juri Ueno cute actress from from Kakogawa, Hyōgo Prefecture, Japan.The winner of Japanese actress award She is one of six actress who have received the "Newcomer of the Year" prize at the Japanese Academy Awards in 2005 for her role in Swing Girls.
She is also known for her starring role as the title character in the live-action adaptation of Nodame Cantabile for which she won "Best Lead Actress" at the 51st Television Drama Academy Awards in 2007, and as Ruka Kishimoto in Last Friends for which she was voted "Best Supporting Actress" at the Nikkan Sports Drama Grand Prix and the 57th Television Drama Academy Awards in 2008.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Aragaki Yui
Smiley girl Aragaki Yui A Japanese actress who was made this world and Japanese people brighten than ever.occasional radio show host of Ryukyuan ancestry. She is a well-loved Japanese idol. She is 21 years old.
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