to do

People sometimes use blogs as to-do lists.


My days of writing Big 5s and PDA lists are currently in recession. For one, I do not have a PDA, anymore anyway. And my Big 5s have gone mental, as in, I now commit them to memory.


Which shouldn't be, really. Lists, writing them and having them, are exceptionally therapeutic, whether your life is in shit-state of chaos or in perfect synchrony. Especially if you are a visual-literal person like me - you see, and see in words - then all the more, lists are a must have.


But I draw the line at using blogs to pen to-do lists. For one, people want enjoyable reads, and unless the lists are penned artfully, they are not likely to be very entertaining. Also, blogs are not for personal unseen gripes, they are meant to be published.


Hence they are called web-logs? The only way to reconcile the need to whine and self-inspect, is to write well, and concealingly if needed.


Why the rant, Elaine?


Because I am going to Cambodia next week and I haven't gotten ready!


I am leaving next week and there are so many things still left undone. I have work to do, I have no money to pay for the trip yet. I have programmes to plan. I have to buy and prepare things to bring to the people there. I have to pack stuff. My house is in a mess still. I don't think my bag is big enough to pack for my trip; I have no other. And I am sick and now still recovering.


Then He said to another, "Follow me."


But he said, "Lord, let me first go bury my father."


Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God."


Reading the word of God feeds me with internal strength, as if intravenously.


In all priorities, God first, and all will come in place, and be taken care of. My heart lives in missions, and I will not waver.


Now, time to get down to doing those things.

and now...

I have finally come to this stage of sharing my best reads in blog reading.

Those who prefer anonymity are not in this share-list. As for everyone else, turn to the sidebar and find links to my favourite blog reads. If you would like to share your blog address, do drop me a comment! I love reading new blogs, especially those in proper english/singlish.

Meanwhile, I am out of books to read, I need to discover more reading material. Recommend me some!

faith and dutch courage

Yes, I needed one and half glasses of wine before dinner to get me going and able to face my task confidently. And it sure does help.


While I practised my script, I murmured and subconsciously I start praying instead.


And then I realise, that I can do this well.


I guess it is really all Him.

soul and worlds upon words

Some feelings can only be condensed into pleasure with music.


I find Nancy Wilson's Alfie and play it on repeat, so that I can keep recreating this cognac-moment. Soul music, literally. Just like tasting enjoyable novels that airship me into thinking dreaming moments, where I will just keep writing afterward.


Not in sensible copywriting words, but like cigarette smoke that fills my living room air in the lounge lighting, for pleasure and decadence only, for mine only - if I did.


After I am done, I will return to copywriting with the same pleasure, upon my desktop and write continuously for serious art purposes.


But in the meantime, she sings for me.


As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, Alfie,
I know there's something much more,
something even non-believers can believe in.
I believe in love, Alfie.


If I don't write, I will cease to live. My writers whose books I collect hungrily to read, they write for me - and teleport the elements of their experiences into my world, reconstituted, through the medium of beautiful 'live' words. If I don't learn to write like them, I cannot share my experiences, which I will keep collecting and swelling up with, until I blog and it all comes out in quickies that end too soon, or till I write for real, one lifetime, and be like my writers.

Third Day - Cry Out To Jesus

From the album Wherever You Are


To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye

And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there's nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right

Chorus:
There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mecy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus

For the marriage that's struggling just to hang on
They’ve lost all of their faith in love
They've done all they can to make it right again
Still it's not enough

For the ones who can't break the addictions and chains
You try to give up but you come back again
Just remember that you're not alone in your shame
And your suffering

Chorus:

When your lonely
And it feels like the whole world is falling on you
You just reach out, you just cry out to Jesus
Cry to Jesus

To the widow who suffers from being alone
Wiping the tears from her eyes
For the children around the world without a home
Say a prayer tonight

Chorus


Third Day dedicated this song to the hurricane victims. I heard this song and cried. Suddenly everything came into perspective. Even in the lost, worst scenarios, I know again and again that God will never abandon me.

Third Day is one of my favourite ccm artists, I will be moved by this song again, and by their Love Song.

I look at myself in the mirror and hear it.


Curious? Ask me for the songs.

review of frankie's play

Update: I am reviewing my review on this, in order to give it more justice, that it deserves.


Read Frankie's self-written synopsis on the play.


It is based on Cyril Wong's poetry. I am not one to have memorised local poets, but after watching a play that translates words into visual, theatrical display, I am keen now to know more about this Singaporean poet.


It got me started on reading his poetry.


Few poets move me with their words...


Frankie and his team chose the poems and strung them into a story, and thereafter punctuated them seamlessly with songs, conversation, props, other poems and bits of prose.


No it is not a musical, thankfully. I still maintain, that I really do not enjoy musicals.


Bits of the poetry were presented in textual display - art in itself, written poetry soometimes without verbalising it audibly - overhead, forming the backdrop. I like this, though some may not. It was however too high above the action on stage; non-habitual subtitle readers may not acclimatise well.


The fact that this is a multimedia performance, in a different, less in-your-face way, and that is abstracted without losing meaning, comprehension and allure, it is a severely good setup. It can outdo performances that I paid for and attended in similar or even larger capacities.


That said, the only thing that I may not like about it, is that, it should have been a bigger event.

A-Z

I stole this from Yiguang's blog. Do one and link me if you are bored and/or skiving!

A is for age: 26
B is for booze of choice: beer, single malt, whiskey, cognac
C is for career: poor and happy entrepreneur
D is for your dad's name: David
E is for essential items to bring to a party: ELAINE! and drinks, and good dressing
F is for favourite song at the moment: something playing on Pandora.com
G is for favourite game: Scrabble
H is for home town: Singapore
I is for instruments you play: guitar, keyboards
J is for jam or jelly you like: i hate jam
K is for kids: when i'm married, have money and time
L is for living arrangements: 3 room flat, on mortgage loan
M is for mom's name: Lily
N is for name of your crush: what crush??
O is for overnight hospital stays: none, thank God
P is for phobias: claustrophobia
Q is for quotes you like: shit happens, that's why we're overcomers; but what things were gain to me, these i have counted loss for Christ (phil 3:7)
R is for relationship that lasted the longest: the first one
S is for sexual preference: male
T is for time you wake up: mornings. unless it rains, then I can't tell the time by the sun anymore.
U is for university degree: B.Sc Management w Law
V is for vegetables you love: all veg, except leek, spring onion, jew's ear, facai
W is for weekend plans: Keyue and Shirley's wedding, church, preparing for mission trip
X is for x-rays you've had: 2 - spine/chest/lungs
Y is for yummy food you make: bakuteh, herbal soups, salad, stir-fried anything, pasta, noodles
Z is for zodiac sign: scorpio, goat

darkholme

the mad splashwurks team and one particular art gallery

We just finished an artspace. Here are some really silly cool pics of the gallery.





This is Clyda in her chio-bu contractor outfit. The artworks in the background are not painted by us; we only managed the gallery to the extent of designing the space for these works as well as hanging them up - more work than it looks, really. The butterfly sculptures are really alive and nice; more about them below.







This is H, aka Mr Koh, or Ah Koh the main contractor. Work in progress.







The butterfly sculptures we designed with the students that Clyda and Enid taught Pop Art to, through much screaming and punishing no less.








And here they are, the digital art teachers and part-time splashwurks coolies (aren't we all). Tired and silly for sure, but that's what distinguishes us from others: we are always mad and upbeat about our job, regardless! That's why I love the team.







Here it is again, unmarred by us workers.




The 'before' pictures should give a better understanding of the transformation this space went through. The splashwurks artspace revamp started with this:








Yes, it is the same place, a month earlier. We hope to do more art spaces again soon! Art gallery management, anyone? It will get better than this, I believe it will.

continuation of my Bleach following

Take The Quiz Yourself!

its december weather already

It was a cold day.


I lay in bed at noontime, wondering if it was a fever, because it felt air-con-like cool without the air-con turned on. I needed blankets at noontime, something must have been up.


H turned up for lunch, wearing a purple sweater over a polo shirt, with camo-speckled berms - his leg hair will suffice against the weather, and cigarettes warm one I suppose.


It was a cold day, H affirmed.


We ate at my favourite Malay stall near my place, a quaint stall. I like eating there because it makes lunch such a chillout time, and the food is darn good. The hosts somehow created an idyllic eating place that would make any working class slave feel like he truly rested that one lunch hour.


H bought me a birthday present too! Oh that bastard, he said nothing for him for HIS birthday but then he comes along with a Metropolitan Museum of Art necklace for me. I suppose the circle really closes, because I bought him a cross pendant from the same, about a year and a half ago I believe. It matches my wedding event outfit. Some will find out soon enough.


During our discussion we talked about how we can work towards being able to fit future family commitments into our working style. H surmised that it would only be possible if we owned our own art space, then we can look after our children even though at work.


I mentioned a Murakami setting in his latest book Kafka on the Shore, where there was a coffee parlour that played classical music, specifically The Archduke Trio, which gave one man in the story - Hoshino - an epiphany of sorts. I suppose I could be passionate about an artspace like that soon. I enjoy hosting. I love creating chillout ambiences. Just like what I write on my friendster profile - that artistic reading, jazz listening (think Fred Astaire and the like), coffee-sipping life is not a faraway ideal, but already in my own home, once I get the housework done again needless to say. I think that in time soon to come, when we have more splashwurks (mad) folks on board, a splashwurks artspace will be quite possible all over again, and better too.


While we talked and listened to more classical jazz on my computer via Pandora.com, I made coffee lovely enough to garner praise from most men but not H of course - nothing is good enough for him most of the time, and we talked more in between doing some real work.


About doing art, about our business - oops that is real work isn't it, about music, about whether the necklace goes with my new love outfit from C, more about making art.


H says I have to believe that I can be good enough to take part in art competitions. Erm. We'll see about that lah. My students' artworks are nice though, does that count for anything? I think I am better at writing than I am at visual art. I can write literal poems better than I can visual ones. But I do love art, so I guess eventually I will. Like all little girls, I once had the list of must-dos-before-age-30: write a book, make a painting.


We did a simple pipeline planning draft, and I suppose I have to make our forecast revenue target for 2006 higher, because our pipeline as at this point already meets half of what I initially projected.


Business planning is definitely one of my more favourite pastimes in the business.


And now, after dinner, it is back to doing real work again, so I shall be back another time not too much later.


I leave you with pictures of my students' artwork:

bourgeois friday, chic weekend, adult thoughts

It started with us waking up at lunchtime at his place.


I wore my new skirt, which only cost me $10, and my signature black top, heels and my Coach bag. Calvin was taking me shopping for my outfit for next Saturday's wedding event.


He has said this before, that I am a closet tai-tai. I agreed with him eventually. This was because he mentioned that his family bought and installed ceiling fans in the back porch so that they could have barbecues, and I said, 'Ee, smoky." I guess that meant something.


I must have said other similar things before, subconsciously. I thought about my closet tai-tai fantasies, and realised that perhaps I could do what I need to do on this earth in the capacity of a upper-crust homemaker and wife, aka Marx's private prostitute. I already work from home, and I want to do missions and other welfare work, something that tai-tais do whether it be for the right reasons or not. Maybe this is proof that God indeed knows the desires of my heart, and will grant them to me if I put Him first, isn't that great?


I am not a materialistic, anti-feminist capitalist, I must disclaim. I do however believe that the one in subservience is the one in power, where men and women are concerned. And I do not mind being the one in seeming second-place, because when you empower a man, you are the one in power indeed. Subservience suits me, despite my woman-on-top tendencies. They go hand in hand, really.


C's mom gave me a $50 Taka voucher for my birthday, as well as a high tea 1-for-1 voucher at Orchard Hotel. We headed to town when we were all prettified and perfumed, and started our high tea at 3pm.


High teas are luxuries beyond compare, by Singaporean standards, and in my own judgement. I mean, we have just eaten lunch right, and you will be eating dinner eventually. What constitutes teatime should be mere coffee and pastry - one serving only - and nothing more. But with the invention of high tea, buffet no less, you eat, a lot.


So we did, at just $26+ for 2 people, thanks to C's mom. We had fondue, ice cream, cake, brownie, pudding, dessert hors d'oevres, as well as savouries like chicken wings, laksa, chu-bi-berng. I had endless cups of coffee, which I needed because I was still sleepy.


Decadence, indeed.


After that we went shopping for a 'dress' for me, but of course I ended up with separates and with shoes to match. C paid for everything. You will find out what I bought after K and S's wedding this weekend. I will wear the clothes (and shoes) at other instances also, for sure. Everything cost C about $200 - my birthday present.


We shopped for five hours, and had a quickie dinner before a movie (C's idea, no less). We watched Oliver Twist, a classic, which fed my literary inclinations, so it was okay. See, I am already speaking like a bourgeois lady.


After the movie we went home to C's place, and had some birthday cake with his parents, lovely ice cold cookies-and-cream ice-cream cake, in the warm glow of the living room at about midnight. It was lovely.


The next day, before our separate dinner plans, we went to select some chairs for C's house, at an office furniture shop near my place. We stumbled upon a warehouse sale of IT goods, in a carpark. Talk about a road show with a twist! I bought a 512MB thumb drive for $60+ and a CD-RW drive for $33, using the angpow money I got from my parents for my birthday. C bought a new LCD monitor which was also a TV, for about $500+.


After stopping at home for a break and to get dressed again, I went out with my JC ODAC friends for a hen-nite/stag-nite party because two of them are getting married in the weeks ahead. We had a fabulous dinner at Sushi Tei at Paragon - I got us a VIP room - and dinner cost us only $15 per head. After that we headed to Zouk because Jean's - the bride's to be - friends were there. Phuture was good - breaks and beats. There is more seating space in Phuture now, though the chairs are entirely uncomfortable. Drinks were lovely. We had some vodka in Winebar before that and at Phuture itself I had a few beers, a few Chivas-on-the-rocks.


Supper after that with Calvin was even better.


He told me the most romantic things. That the reason why we couldn't get married yet was for no other reason but that he wasn't happy with his job.


He is not undecided about me, it means. How many men can say that about me? I want to marry this one.


At twenty-six, I am finally adult enough to marry and settle down just like so many of my friends who have walked this route. I often fantasise about a life I would lead without marrying. It always ends up with lonely others, and I will always be too frightened to start a relationship. I might have one-night-stands with exes, or spend time with different men. I had a glimpse of a similar life, in between H and C. It may have been chic and happening, the swinging singleserves lifestyle, but I come to decide that I would rather not. I think it is like having children, that it may seem unglamourous to those outside, but to those involved, the safe route is actually the route to take at least for this one. If C should leave me just like the rest, then I suppose I would end up reverting to that chic lonely life. After all, what is certain except for God Himself? I always start a relationship hoping and planning for it to be the last. But so far my hit rate has been nil. I would be ready to take on the single lonely route, but as for now, it may no longer be necessary, because of lovely C.


I awoke Sunday lunchtime with a mild hangover, which I got rid of with glasses of cranberry/kiwi juice. Afterwards I slept loads again, completely forgetting about housework, which I will do tomorrow in between doing my day's work. I hope to have more sleep soon, dreamless preferably, and without violent tossing. C complained that I punched him in my sleep on Saturday morning. Thankfully he is sleeping at his own place tonight, and I, at mine.

it is saturday at last

I tried to sleep in today but I couldn’t. I ended up waking up at the same time that I have been for the past five days.


Which is bloody six plus in the a.m.


I have been teaching in two schools the past week, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. The morning session's course is acrylic painting in Impressionism - yes again - as well as mixed media in Modernism. My kids now know who Claude Monet and Paul Cezanne are because they have been studying their paintings. Upstairs from the art room where I am, Enid and Clyda are teaching Pop art using Photoshop in the computer lab.


We have been shouting so much, I have lost my voice, especially since I have seconded Enid to teach upstairs and I have been alone doing my 2D art classes.


You see, discipline is very important in doing art, especially when learning it. If a student fails to listen to the one he is learning from, he stops learning, and he then has nothing to apply to his canvas. His brushstrokes will be different, his work on the computer screen will not get saved, and he will disrupt the rest of his group members hard at work. And so, one value we extol in the splashwurks classroom - discipline. Thus we have been fierce, screamed and have punished.


And in art, logistics is so key, that we pay our folks for those hours which are spent preparing materials and equipment - not every external education company does that. Work on computers needs to be saved into one central disk drive. Palettes, palette knives, brushes and all those whatchamacallits have to be washed. Paint has to be mixed and separated into bowls so we can distribute them.


In the morning, the kids are in Primary 4. Some of the kids have never painted before. A lot of them are not yet computer literate (neighbourhood school demographics). It gets harder to teach this way.


But in the end, the artworks are beautiful. Really.


Compared to the art now currently displayed outside their classrooms, these artworks are truly, works of art. After the screaming ruckus leaves the room with the class, I look at their work and am moved. Even in the silly mistakes. Some of them try so hard, some really listen to instructions, some obviously realise they made a mistake and try to cover up - in strange and wondrous ways for sure. The fruits of your labour makes it worth the voice. I'm glad we hit an imprint in their systems.


When it hits lunchtime, we munch and head to another school to teach an incredible bunch of Primary 2 kids. Incredible because, they have, by this age, all done painting before. Different type of kids from the other school. Who are even noisier, but surprisingly more obedient when it comes to doing their art. This time around, the logistics get worse, because the classrooms have no sinks, and there are no breaks between classes, so the paints and water have to be prepared beforehand and transported to class.


Thank God for SKP packaging, and that I have 2 of us teachers to a class here.


The P2 kids have been drawing, colouring and painting Henri Matisse. Now they are learning about landscape painting. We are training their visual observation skills - of form and of colour - as well as in their painting skills. Because this is a good school, their painting abilities are already developed.


Teaching P2 kids is all about brainwashing them.


"When you've finished painting the trees/mountains/sky, brushes where?"


"In the bowl!"


"I said, brushes where?!" Some will still be painting as you are about to teach them the next step, and they will miss out if they don't stop and listen.


"In the bowl!"


"Then why are there pupils who are still painting?!"


"Whey, faster! Wait teacher scold!" Brushes enter the bowls of water at lightning speed. Some will invariably still be painting.


"That boy in the back, stand up! You are not listening."


Even more silence. Now everyone is really attentive.


"Okay class, we are now going to paint the mountains. Where are the mountains on your drawing paper? They are below the sky, and around the trees," I point the area out on the board. The visualiser is not working. "So where are we going to paint now?"


"The mountains!"


"Do you paint the sky?'


"No!"


"Do you paint the trees?"


"No!"


"Do you paint the tree trunks?"


"NO!"


"So be very very careful. Now, Mr Marc and I are going to give out paints to you. When you get it, THEN you can take out your brushes and paint the mountains."


Artistic chaos reigns supreme thereafter.


Children make really cute comments sometimes.


"Why do you always have to tell us your name [when you come into class]?" says James. Everytime I step into class, I will write both teachers' names on the board, so that they know us. I am afraid they might forget. And so I answer him the same.


"Why was your group so noisy?" I asked the group I was punishing for not listening when we were teaching.


Alexander says with head lowered and eyes up towards me, "I was shy."


Huh? "What do you mean by that?"


"I was shy so I didn't dare to tell them to keep quiet." Head still lowered, eyes still up at me, mouth still in a geniune pout.


Even though lower primary kids are, in my opinion, harder to teach, still, they can be cute and funny. When we listen to Enid relate and animate her stories to us about her kids also, they are so funny really.


These two projects finish next week. In the meantime, I will continue to shout, get shouted at (by H when he is around, because he is stressed too), paint like crazy with the kids, teach from the beginning of morning session till the end of the afternoon session, and be so stressed that Enid and I end up buying stickers at a stall outside the school. Entertainment, social and personal time have been so sparse, stickers and Hello Kitty paraphernalia suddenly seem wildly interesting. We buy 3 sticker sheets for a dollar.


It is Saturday. I intend to go back to the school I teach in the morning today, to varnish the works I have selected for exhibition. Not all classes have finished, so I will varnish the Haystacks, Parliament Houses and Irises first. Perhaps I will take photos. I will also be discussed with by H: he will be telling me where we should be hanging our digital art sculptures.


The monster continues. I hope I regain my voice soon.

[untitled]

Like lemon juice on a wound
I will work until blood comes out from my tear ducts


Enlarge lengthen strengthen
Perhaps, it is not yet time to say:
multiply me an entity


Pursuit of excellence, that I may
impart to the world; she needs a living
which only a Protestant work-ethic will bring


Tonight I toil still,
thankfully not as a dung beetle in a shitpool:
As a dignified human who almost breaks in glass shards.

help

I cannot take it already.


"It is just work..."
It is not helping.
Snacking is not helping.
Music is not helping.
Resting is not helping.
Doing something else is not helping.
Reading is not helping.
Knowing that I can do it is not helping.
Knowing God is here is not helping, yet.
I don't know what to do.

Some things just make me freeze up.

avalonjunkie

I am a junkie because...


I am stressed and rather anxious, would like to have some Xanax on hand.


Alcohol calms me down but not as easily as before.


I need food and snacks constantly so that I feel less stressed and can work better.


I can feel like buying ice-cream at the supermarket even AFTER I've eaten my meal. I thought stepping into the supermarket after eating would cause you to buy less, but no. More than ever before. I even got a lucky draw ticket to win a Nissan Sunny because I spent more than a certain amount. Hah.


Anyway I think I look like one, but not the sickly kind, more like Maggie Cheung in Clean. Pretend-glam, me.





That's me, taken by Amanda, at the same party you might remember at Kelly's with the pussy and Calvin. I think a beer mug is such a wonderful accessory.








Yeah that's us. Why is Amanda is the only girl who I find fun to flirt with?










Here I look like I really needed some fresh supplies and was on the phone with my dealer. This shot is taken by Kelvin.



And now, I need some snacks else I can't resume doing my work.

new addition

I finally bought Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore!!

I am stressed

My stress and depression used to be two different conditions.



If I was stressed, I'd vent my anger by cursing the customer/company/boss whoever and rant to friends who would make me feel better after that, because, lovely them, they would say things that helped most of the time.



When I went through depression in the past, I would hide under tables or on floors and cry or clam up, unable to express verbally what the hell I was going through. Time would pass me by and suddenly I realise I don't remember 1999 at all.



Now, they come together and become a mental morphism;



Recently, I have been stressed, but inflicted with a different breed of it. There is no boss/customer/company to complain about except for H my best colleague who is immaculate save for the fact that we hate each other sometimes. Seriously though, entrepreneurial stress is completely different. It is like S&M, because it hurts so much, and in the midst of the new, intense pain, you love the pleasure behind it.



Mini-pockets of depression have surfaced this year, and my loved ones have reflected to me, that these bouts are onset because of stress.



It happened once early this year. I was incapacitated, and couldn't go to work for two days, and couldn't do anything at all except read, sleep, cry. It was like a flu that I couldn't control, as all flu's are.



Now that I have introspected on my new reaction to stress, I realise that right now, I feel bits of depression-signals rearing their limbs toward me.



Sometimes I suddenly feel very lonely doing my work.



Other times, I feel like crying -



But of course, letting these get to me is pointless, these triggers have to stay as triggers, and not let myself cave in and hide in bed again about it all and nothing much.



Although I really wish someone would release me from this. I don't want to be sad about nothing. What does this mean? Stress makes me depressed? Or makes me more susceptible to what I am already prone to? Today's society doesn't yet understand depression. People view it as a weakness and not a sign of biologically low levels of serotonin or whatever. I might lose friends who think this way, after admitting that I have weird, unjustifiable feelings. I hope the world changes. I hope my stress goes away as soon as possible, and that I get round to building up my coping mechanism for my changing life situations.

busy with work

Really have been laden with work, both paid and volunteered.


Remember the backdrop we were supposed to paint for Sherilyn's church play?


It is a rather post-modern play, hence with all our input - Sherilyn, myself, Huanjie and Cassandra, we decided on something Surrealist, like this draft that H made on Photoshop:



















And so we painted.


Here are some random shots:
































































































It is finished. But camera was out of battery, hence I will only be able to take the complete one the next time I get to see it. The amazing backdrop. Painted by Sherilyn , Cassandra, and her drama crew, plus me.