my dad gave me a card that had a piece of paper inserted in it. He had written on the note to wish me a “Merry Christmas” and telling me that I could help the environment by reusing the card next year (because it was blank).
why some people are impressed when big words and names of philosophers and schools of philosophical thought are thrown around.
I just call it pretentious.
If you can’t speak simply and clearly in layman’s terms, then you probably don’t know what you’re talking about.
I just spent a while reflecting upon my attitude towards others and my speech. I realised that I belittle and tend to mock others very often. While reflecting, I realised that I belittle others so readily because I am afraid of being belittled. I am constantly fearful that people will scoff at my choices in life of vocation, university etc. As such, I thus belittle others so that I will not be belittled and I will puff myself up by scoffing or marvelling at the fact that others got into good universities so that I can make myself believe that I could’ve gotten there too (but well, I couldn’t be bothered to apply for Oxbridge) or that they are going into a “mercenary” or “prestigious” job which is just about the money while I’m going into somewhere which at least helps society etc.
It’s a bit like Singapore or Israel. Fearful of being attacked and thus are always on the defensive but will attack first if they feel threatened.
It’s a disgusting trait: that I belittle others and put others down so that I can feed my own pride.
In fact, we who seem to have superiority complexes are normally the ones with huge inferiority complexes which is why we have superiority complexes in the first place.
ERGH. I am going to bed because I’m pretty repulsed by myself.
A couple of days late, but today when Ali asked us to speak about what we hope for in 2010, it got me thinking. What do I remember about 2009 and what do I want from 2010?
There are a lot of fleeting memories about 2009; some great, others less so. There are bright spots and some darkened times. But to be honest, I don’t remember anything exceptional. It felt like a rather nondescript year. And yes, I do feel somewhat saddened by that realisation.
I look back on 2009 and just see myself getting by each day, just getting by. Nothing exceptional, just getting by. God’s been good, there’s no doubt about that and I do remember some things fondly, but I can’t remember anything that I actually achieved. There was no milestone, no marker that “2009 was the year that such and such happened”. I completed essays, spoke to people, made friends, took part in debate, smiled, laughed and cried just as things happened. They happened and I did them, that’s it.
Ask me if it’s a bad thing and a feeling in my gut tells me that it is.
Ask me what my resolution is this year? I’ll tell you that it is to live each moment intentionally. Living isn’t about carpe diem but it’s about living with a purpose in mind. I existed from day to day in 2009. In 2010, I want to live each moment with eternity in mind, to keep my eyes fixed on the end goal because that’s the only way that I don’t wander around aimlessly not doing anything, or sometimes doing everything (and anything).
I think that if one thing were to characterise love, it would be irrationality. If love were truly rational, it’d be utilitarian. One would not do things because one cared but only if it benefited the ‘doer’. Love means that we do things even without promise of reciprocity, we hope for and believe in the best because we love and care for the other person. We hold on even when we know there’s no hope.
We grieve for those we love even though we know that the expense of our tears and energy does nothing to bring our loved ones back to us.
Love never gives up, even on those who seem hopeless. That’s why it’s so amazingly irrational and irrationally amazing.
Actually, love seems to point towards a greater purpose in being rather than simply, well, being. If we were truly about survival and built and living for the sake of living, we wouldn’t love, we’d rationalise and exist but not love. For love is not about survival, for in loving, we give up little bits of ourselves and we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, hardly a formula for the survival of the fittest. Love isn’t about survival, it’s about living; truly living.
Sometimes I blog and update my status because I want sympathy and comments. I want people to tell me that they care when they read my emo posts or statuses. It’s stupid and highly narcissistic, but yeah, sometimes I just need to know.
To paraphrase a bad song that I actually dislike, “It’s our relationship, so we can be mushy if we want to”. MYOB.
A friend from church, no more than 30, died today. My sister showed me his Facebook page which had many writing on his wall, “Rest in Peace”.
I then thought to myself, there is no need to wish him to rest in peace (or Requiescat in pace as the original Latin Catholic epitaph said)! Why? Because he is already resting in peace! He’s entered God’s eternal rest (Hebrews 4:1-11) and is with the Prince of Peace himself at this moment in time.
Truly, what a glorious hope we have! We need not wish souls to “rest in peace” as Christ’s redeeming work on the cross means that the saints who have fallen asleep are already resting in peace in a place where there is no death, mourning, crying or pain (Revelation 21:4). In light of such a glorious hope, we do not need to grieve like those who have no hope for we can look forward to being with the Lord forever (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18) in the new Jerusalem where God will provide his abundant peace (Jeremiah 33:9).
I remember once lamenting that I do not have a particularly poetic style when I write, this of course in comparison to other writers who somehow manage to blog poetically.
A friend responded telling me that I write plainly and that itself is an art. I don’t embellish my posts or writing in general because I usually can’t be bothered and it isn’t really in my nature to do so (not embellishing my speech whether with verbosity or niceties).
Sometimes though, it would be nice to be able to write a line that sounds vaguely poetic.
On an unrelated note, I really do wish that the teenagers above me who are attempting their version of rockband without the good singer, drummer, bassist and guitarist programmed into the system would stop. After a while, people need to be told that they may have a gifting elsewhere, for others’ benefit and for their own. I don’t know if I’m hearing a lot of feedback from their sound system or if it’s just their natural talent to produce sounds that sound like feedback.
Not seeing the woods for the trees, and not seeing the trees for the wood.
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