Tuesday, 17 September 2013

Desmond & the Lamb Chops Who Played Along.

Hello World, I'm 26.


When I think about how I've survived 26 years on earth, I have to say, I'm thankful that God has brought me this far. I have not gone through that much to be able to boast in being a survivor. I haven't survived much. A car crash, a couple of heartaches, many disappointments, and much struggles with self-identity, but nothing life-shattering. So to say I've survived 26 years, is more an indication of God's mercy and kindness than anything I've done; He chooses to let me live 26 years (and, Him-willingly, counting).

The usual birthday every year consists of mundane things. I normally try to avoid the birthday fuss, because I don't see the point of celebrating your birth. I'm not a great humanitarian, I've done little for Africa, and I didn't push my way out of the womb (that was the effort of my mom, whom we should be thanking, if we want to celebrate my birthday). I come with little life-experience that common-place men would deem worthy of attention. I don't sing well in spite of being impoverished, I haven't given millions in spite of being a begger, and I don't teach blind dogs how to be seeing-eye dogs, in spite of being blind myself. There is nothing extra-ordinary about me. But I am alive in spite of being just a wisp of smoke that could vanish at any moment. And that is the grace of God, whom I will thank, even if I won't celebrate my birthday.

This year, I did less mundane things. Yesterday I spent a large portion of time in the public transport system. I carried a camera around my neck, and barely utilised it. I ate, and laughed, and hung out. And when the night came to a close, I found myself smiling, and being happy that this was part of my birthday. I found myself happy at the prospect of having a birthday-something. And I found out that allowing myself to feel special is a wonderful feeling.

And just a few hours ago, my Dad treated me to one of the longest lunches I've had in awhile. It's lamb chop at a coffee-shop near my house, and as mundane as that sounds... the meal was one of the best I've ever had in a long, long, time. I found myself smiling again, because that meal made me feel special, with it's well-grilled meat, and it's long-lasting effects.


I'm writing now because I want to remember what this feels like. I haven't had much birthdays like that, and maybe you can say it's because I don't allow myself the luxury of indulging my self-esteem, but this year, the luxury seeked me out and made me feel luxurious--it's worth remembering. World, I'm 26, and it's worth remembering that as unspecial as I am, God made me completely unique. Born on this day, many years ago, born to wonderful parents, and into a good home, completely insignificant, but still meaning much to the people who care. Thank you God, for making a wisp feel so special, and for valuing me enough to give me special people to share my wispi-ness with.

IloveYouGod.

Monday, 1 April 2013

Desmond and that Familiar Comfort.

I understand how familiarity is comfort. I understand why we may choose to put ourselves in familiar situations, among familiar people, because we expect that any new change will be disruptive to our routine.

But sometimes, if by some flash of revelation, you happen to realise just how uncomfortable your familiarity has become... I hope you find the strength to step away from what you've long considered to be 'familiar'. Chances are, without you knowing, that familiarity has already morphed, slowly, into something different. And if it has changed to become something unfamiliar, and needlessly uncomfortable, then you shouldn't stay.

After all, the reason you sought out familiarity was because you wanted to be comfortable, and you were afraid of something disruptive.

I don't know how much about making choices. I know less about making hard decisions. But today, and recently, I've been wondering if I should turn away from my familiar people and places. Because I don't want to become my surroundings. I don't want to blend in, if what I'm blending into is something I don't endorse.

Familiarity is comfort. But a clear conscience, a strong conviction, and a good heart, can also make you very comfortable.

Tuesday, 18 December 2012

Desmond the First Real One in Years.


It's Christmas time again, catching me by incomprehensible surprise. How did this year past by so quickly? I don't know why, but as I age, each year seems to pass by with increasing speed.

A lot has happened this year. I've finally graduated--first from college, and then next, from my short-lived bumming stint (although I'm sure my parents disagree with me on the latter). Following that, I started work in a bookstore. And following that, Christmas time comes and catches me by surprise.



This year I also moved into my official room. We all know this, but sometimes we take our privacy for granted; Privacy a very special privilege. In a world where all our lives are sometimes carelessly laid bare on the internet, privacy should be better treasured--physical or otherwise.

Which might be also why this year I've also left huge gaps in-between entries. Since 2003, I've blogged pretty consistently, aiming for at least once a month. But this year has also been the first year in many, where my entries are a bit more personal, and less about the frivolous trivialities of my life.



With the advent of tumblr, and these other-like-minded hipster-ish platforms that everyone is migrating to, blogspot seems once again safe. Safe from the prying eyes of the half-acquainted people in my life, who somehow have access to my blog, through the links of a friend, of a friend, of a friend. Who knew being forgotten is strange comfort?

I love my God. Because even when I try to hide into nothingness, He never fails to notice me. :) Happy Holidays, my quiet and un-visiting world.

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Desmond and the Time-and-Task-Sensitive Music.

Today I played Mat Kearney's Young Love album in the background as I did some work. And I liked it. It was light, and easy to listen to, and bright and chirpy--a turn away from the direction that I normally poise my melancholy-loving ears towards. And you know what's happiness? I believe happiness is in the little things.

Happiness is when you have some work to do so that you're not too bored, and not too overwhelmed. Happiness is when your tea is just nice; not too cold or too sweet and not too hot or too bland. Happiness is in the little things, and not the exaggerated.

Happiness is about trivial things. 

Sure, extreme happiness is still happiness, but there's probably a more apt word for it flying so far out of my reach that I cannot possibly know or use it.

But perhaps the more persistant happiness, that leaves you feeling good a longer time than great for a moment, is the happiness of the little things.

Just as I saved my work and handed it in, the last song on Kearney's album ended. And then I smiled, because these things make me smile. I like it when my music ends accidentally in sync with the end my task. I love it that as I open my front door after a long journey back home, the seconds on my itouch wind down coincidentally to zero.

And if you can learn to be content with trivial things at the zeros, then one day, you'll truly learn the words to describe contentment and happiness at extreme levels.

Incidentally, I've written once about Happy and Happenstance, which both originally pointed to some form of accident or luck. Which is to say, Happiness happens to us, from external sources acting on or toward us. 

Thursday, 9 August 2012

Desmond and the Lane.

I graduated last week, World (of zero readership). I graduated, and I'm a graduate, and I have graduate qualifications, and basically that's how much I feel my graduation has changed me--merely given me the right to add the word 'graduate' in its various forms to any descriptions I make of myself.

But I shan't go into detail about that day, because I have little photos from my convocation, and I would really like to take some of my gown before I blog officially about it. Instead, I'll photo-journal the day I went to HJ Lane. This was actually taken a day before my graduation, come to think of it.

















It's a whole mess of pictures, and I couldn't control the textures as much as I liked to, which really just shows that in Photography, I'm far from graduated. But practice makes perfect right?

Friday, 20 July 2012

Desmond & the Lemon-substitutes.


In baking and cooking, there's what is known as a cooking substitute, which stands in place for something else you're missing. For example, some people say sour cream can be almost successfully substituted for full cream, as is the same with lemon and lime. Of course, they always swear that the finish product is good enough (or better).

I think it's the same in life. You know how life gives you lemons? I believe sometimes it gives you oranges, and you're supposed to do the same thing--make lemonade juice. Of course it'll taste nothing like the sour-ey pick-me-wake-me-up that we're used to, but it'll make a sweet greet-you-in-the-morning drink. Same principals. The finished product is good enough for fruit juice (or better, for the non-sour-toothed).




But at the end of the pulpy road... lemon isn't orange, and neither is sour cream, full cream. They were different for obvious reasons, and the finished product is never the same, even if sometimes better.

I watched my mom make a whole canteen of food today. First frying noodles, and then making mango-flavored jelly, before finally slicing up two oranges. And...? I had no big revelation. I'm just waiting for the jelly to set, before I nonchalantly ask my mom if I'm allowed to taste one. But if life does give me oranges one day, I'll just make the same puns as everyone else does, with the lemons: sell it, throw it back in Life's face, make juice, make pie, clean up the tough stains... Oranges and lemons are both citrus fruits, they should be good enough, right?I cannot help much what is given to me, or what someone else does. I can only cope, and hope that things will be better. And make the adjustments, hoping the finished product is good enough, or if I'm fortunate, better.

Monday, 16 July 2012

Desmond and the Long Break.

Blogger has dropped out of the popularity race, and now all the cool kids are endorsing the indie-ish tumblr and the incessant twitter. I have to say--and be slightly embarrassed while I do--that I have a tumblr. Several, in fact, and I actually have followers. Hee! Of course, most of the times, the people who think they are cool, really aren't, and so I really am not either. Also? I'm a sell-out for not updating my blogspot for three months now. Yes, that day finally came, and multiplied itself a hundred times over. I stopped blogging.

This blog has held a lot of history for me. I've seen myself grow, and I've seen my childishness, and dare I say it, my brief flashes of maturity. I've been overtly and unwisely honest at times, and mind-scrambling-ly guarded on other occasions, and in all of it, I've used writing this blog as a means to mark my time and remember my moments.


2012 so far has been a year of moments. Of course, every year has moments, but as we all know, certain moments in our lives are milestones. Towards the end of April, I finally got my own room. Yes, it's been a loooong and whine-ful wait, but I now have a room to clean and take care of, to slather with photos and other half-baked crafts that I know are terrible, but choose to think are stamps of my creative individuality. I finally have a room to call my own.

Of course, 2012 also marks the end of my undergraduate studies. I'm still waiting to have my convocation which happens in approximately 2 weeks, but that's a milestone too. I am a graduate! I get to wear a gown and a clunky hat, and worry about falling on the stage, and getting no cheers. I get to leave my schooling, laid-out, timetable days, behind, and enter the pre-working limbo of hours and hours of drama shows and spontaneous and continuous eating. Basically where nothing is dictated by any sort of time-based system. I've been living that for about 2 months now, and believe me, it's a heck of a slow-acting freak house. When the freak reaches it's maximum (which for me is kinda now), it hits you hard and shows no mercy. The only way to counter it is to rally up an inexperienced army of past working experience (none), and other past vaguely-relevant achievements that really aren't much to boast about anyways.

That's the next milestone--looking for a job. Which is really where I'm at now. I'm in-between states, and I'm in-between a rock and an incredibly soft and comfortable place which I now have to leave because of eviction on the grounds of graduation. It's unsettling and scary, and I just want to huddle up in my blanket and cry on my bed. The bad news is, I can't do that forever. The good news is... I now have a room where I can do that in private confidence.

Thank God for 2012's milestones. Some, and counting.






(I applied for some places, and we'll see who gets back. Also, I went to the gardensbythebay the other day. )