"We look to Yahweh"

For once, a blow-by-blow recount will do no justice to these past 3 days. It was a long weekend I had waited so long for, and I was afraid the immense expectations I had of it would not be met. How wrong I was; they have been surpassed to the furthest extent.

Meeting old friends who've left and returned

Putting the old skill of tying thousands of water bombs learnt years ago in practice after all this while

Ad-hoc conversations at the fellowship deck in wet clothes over junk food

Prayer meetings at Simpang

The cold ROL floor and the sensation of not needing more than a few hours of sleep

Early morning group quiet time and worship practice

A double-handed shoulder-squeeze for a camp commandant more tired than he's felt before

Leading the largest team for the shortest yet most together worship session on night#2

An invitation to join the FL team permanently

Midnight briefings and the kind of things shared between 2 people caught together

Safari beds, foam mats and sleepings bags backstage to the symphony of snores

Mornings in town with 15 bottles of water and a games czar hung up over the visa ad jingle

Afternoons in the blazing Sunday heat on the roof of Vivo taking pictures

Evenings with hands and legs sooted with charcoal and refreshed by bubble tea

BBQ-ing the best food on the church's rooftop as the sun goes down

Getting a pleasant surprise from a hard tap on the back from a friend who's survived JCC

Completely unplanned meeting of 3 closest oldest friends at the fellowship deck talking over watermelons and oranges

Standing aloof watching and planning for how my turn with the worship portfolio in the coming weeks will be different, and better

Laughing as we used to at the expanse of others, but all in good nature and immense wit

Cheers for the spontaneous and for the familiar, just because

Handshakes for a commandant and chairman and a high five for a games guru

Hugs for a farewell that comes 12 hours premature, but leaving at the highest is a rule of life

I will say I find myself taken aback by how strong the afterglow of What's Up? FL Camp 2009 is; there's something about being around people you've grown comfortable by the passage of time that somehow beats other experiences.

What I was told last night at 130am was correct - now it's our turn, and mine especially, to make something magical for the next long weekend.

I'm driving fast now/don't think I know how to go slow

Black backgrounds make for good possibility. They are better than the oft-talked-about blank slates.

5-hour brunches on a Saturday morning are the epitome of good healthy living. It gives one a sense of suburbia, or maybe an urban tranquility.

Apparently I enjoy green tea; I used to avoid it consistently. It helps with a sortofbutnotquitealittlebitcanyoucallitthat split lip.

And as I said before leaving this evening, "Camp Facilitators are allowed to play frisbee". Hello Thursday in advance.

11 Sounds Better

I really wanna go for Paul's Alpha Camp, but the weekday thing is kinda hard to get past; I wonder, how can I weasel an off-day or three?

I fear I may have been pushy, and that's the last thing I want. But now it's a matter of capitalizing some silence and some (hopeful) opportunity the weekend presents.

Target of the Week

"...for the Belle of the Boulevard"

I suppose it was only a matter of time before this song made it to title-of-post status. Dashboard Confessional le sigh; such emotion packed into simple words and even simpler melody.

Opportunity sort of presented itself to me yesterday to take today off work. But I didn't seize it. The consequence of this is as certain as another "let's see asteroids/shooting stars" group/event invitation on FB - feeling shitty about having to spend 9 1/2 hours not at my own liberty.

Wednesday's over, thankfully. And hopefully I get an early despatch tomorrow. And guess what? It's TGIF all over again.

My little bit of evangelism

As far back as I can remember, the different circles I occupy have been more or less distinct from one another. We've got school friends, church friends, CCA friends, friends from camps, friends from one-off events, friends from switching schools, and so forth. With respect to the title of the post, I think I've only ever invited Cherry and Paul (paul: have I ever invited you to a church camp before?) to church camp, and the year later she was there again without my knowledge (Shiping followed up and invited again, bless her soul). This despite having sat on 3 camp committees, and helped out in games/played for worship/led or facilitated a group in just about every other except for last year's YAM Camp (Faith Factor; I must admit I would have gained a lot from it for this year's organizing experience. Bother.). This time, though, I have been led to capitalize on the unique experience of organizing YAM Camp 2009 (Fruitips), and unique for a number of reasons including the capacity in which I'm serving, the location and facilities at our disposal and the congruence of target campers and timing of camp. I believe fully in that who is meant to be at the camp will be at the camp, yet I am also burdened to be a catalyst of some sort. I've invited 5 friends, and do not think I shall increase this number (I do not know who else to ask, it would seem), though it would have been more had some (one?) of them not not been out of the country (double negatives ftw). Minus one confirmed out-of-the-country and we're down to 4, and Paul's more or less confirmed already, as is Ron given the caveat of one and/or two of the other 2 being there. Which is why the other two are the target of much persuasion at the moment, and I must find the words to say.

"A prayer in time of need" would be the title of a post jotted down but not blogged.

The sound of an old guitar is saving you

Allow me to quote a little scripture that was quoted in the context of one of Orwell's essays:

NKJV Ecc 7: "...there is a just man that perisheth in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man that prolongeth his life in his wickedness. 16 Be not righteous over much; neither make thyself over wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself ? 17 Be not over much wicked, neither be thou foolish: why shouldest thou die before thy time?"

Orwell quotes this in the context of his examination of the human spirit; it is tugged to both good (socially acceptable codes) and evil (hidden passions). Resolution, according to him, is found in balancing both the former and the latter. Scary, isn't it?

The great writers of fiction are usually immovably secular or devoutly religious. Compare Orwell with Lewis (C.S, not Carroll), and you get my point. Their essays shed light on their fiction. Should it? Does it make it better? Can I appreciate it more now? I think these are questions that are verging a little on the unnecessary.

In my shopping bags lie Orwell's Books Vs. Cigarettes (Non-Fictional Male British exposition) and Alice Walker's By The Light Of My Father's Smile (Fictional Female American introspection) . These could not possibly be more different.

I shudder at the prospect of anyone, especially anyone I know, leading an existence, as opposed to living experiences (rather than experience living). Often, our circumstances, state of mind or space we occupy requires that we ponder how, in life, there probably will be many things to fear or be nervous about; this is not one of them.

"Disappointment has a name - it's Heartbreak"

Friday the 13th spent learning about the Team Excellence Symposium (TES, and 769574618374 acronyms that preceded it).

Constraint exercised while walking under an umbrella in the rain. Enlightenment and elevated thought considered while waiting for the train. Discovery experienced after putting a mental bookmark on a page in George Orwell's Decline of the English Murder (Boys' Weeklies) and listening to John Mayer's Battle Studies (Heartbreak Warfare).

Note to Self:

The Mee Siam at work is poison. And not in the vodka-is-my-poison kind of way.

A pleasant reminder that I practically have a 3-day week, with just 2 days left! Quick, Friday arrive.

Emailing to get to you.

"Get up and go/take a chance and be strong/you could spend your whole life holding on"

This shall be a frivolous post about What I Did This Weekend, but it is meaningful because it had many significant moments that, in some way, represent the space I occupy right now.

1. I met Paul and Sean for dinner at Holland Village, and we talked about so much. We admitted things too, for me some already known, some always known but never aired, and others.

2. I attended a YAM Committee meeting.

3. I participated in a closed-door dialogue with Speaker of Parliament Abdullah Tarmugi.

4. I visited Zixian at a Flea Market at 8QSAM.

5. There was no cell group for once in a very long time, and I also didn't attend service for the first time in many many many weeks.

6. This was because I was at a meeting with Colleen, Daniel and Sophie to witnessing the recording of our new YAM Camp Theme Song. Excite.

7. I had Sunday Lunch at Popeye's and had conversation, which included a little about school mottos which was sorta reminiscent.

8. I spent the longest time in one single afternoon going through frisbee drills with Adriel and Louis (who helped out even in jeans; sorry for all the sweat) and Gavin. Adriel teaching me frisbee reminds me of Jake teaching me to play pool.

9. We played frisbee at Tanah Merah, our new field of choice.

10. I'm not having dinner at Timbre or watching the Chelsea-ManUtd match with company. I shall do so this evening only because I've got the luxury of leaving the house at 8a.m. tomorrow morning. With a bit of luck I should be back in front of this computer screen again no later than 4p.m. Crosses Fingers.

Flea (The Market Variety)

When one chooses an activity to pursue all-out, one immerses oneself wholly, bandying about its lingo as if the world should know what you mean. Take for instance an Ultimate Frisbee Player; things like grabhuckscore and insideoutoutsidein throws come as naturally as breathing (it was either frisbee or the flea market craze, and it seems I know slightly more about the former than the latter, hence my choice of example). More so than that, one is defined by the activity, especially to those in the same social circles (people like you or me). So one could, say, be an SA rugger, be from RJ badminton, or like me, an AC debater. Even if one has a second, equally heavy commitment something else, or picks up something in later life, there's always the easily identifiable tag to fall back on when one is talked about in said social circles. Yet very often in our pursuit of the highest standards of our activity of choice (and believe me, people like us don't do it any other way; "recreational" is very much taboo), when we leave it is with a strange feeling of not knowing what else to fill one's time with. Yes, we can very ably become coaches, play for clubs or, very rarely, make it a profession (because of a. the lack of avenues in our sunny island and b. sometimes going pro ruins the thing itself completely), but I have always wondered what I would pick up that is completely separate (and tuition or driving or applying for uni don't count; neither does church or ministry work (or ad-hoc charity/community work) really count either.). I've been asked to learn soccer from scratch (trust me, it will be from scratch; I have zero experience), or really put myself out there in frisbee, or master french or spanish, or volunteer in a full-time capacity at a major ethnic self-help group. It's not as if I don't have things to occupy my time with; and the idea of a job of any sort seems rather demanding. What can be my in-between?

Morning After Dark

This post could be, like others, a sincere but poor jotting down of the significance of having exactly a year of NS left (exactlytoday'sdatenextyearnobutit'stomorrow'sdaytobepreciseohwhattheheck).

But I think I've gained a little more perspective than that. A few early days that stretched from yesterday till Monday, with a little normality at work (TGIF at that) means that I'm in a same-but-different space around this time, so much more so when it's 2010 version rolls around. It's nice that I'm not a 1-year NSF, but already I have only a year left. 'Only', you say? But that is such poor representation and I accede to all incredulity with which this post is read. 10 months of this behind me have done nothing but make me think of better times past and better times to come.

I think I'll not look so far down this 1-year (though, as I've been told, round figures of such wholeness appeal to the mind, and so a nice appreciable number like 1 year can be bandied around this time, but not for long) as time passes it by and nibbles it up. Instead, as with the second parenthesis in the update, the weekend's much more grasp-able, don't you think?

Vestiges From A Longish Weekend

1. Friday leveling-up, with the outstanding issue of finding an electric guitarist

2. This Is It in place of a stay-over which never materialized; it's OST still remains un-updated

3. Prologue discounts let slip intentionally because of Borders 20%

4. An unexpected 4musketeers photo and an amazing night ending with weird horror films

5. Leaving the tan question for another week, but still getting to talk

6. Dinner and discussion with a bruised thumb and the need for rethinking its purpose

7. Wow, it's the 2nd of November tomorrow. This calls for commemoration some time this week. I expect good company. It had better be 'cos I feel I'm owed.

If there were a way to end and begin each and every month,

It'd be very much like this.