A promising k-drama called Moorim School that's got me so super-excited, I have to rein myself in;

cause one generally has to be cautious with the love to prevent disappointment.

but ohhhhmygod, sign me up for this.

this drama has my favourite tropes and is hence hitting all the right buttons for me.

It feels like HP! but not quite. or wait, maybe it feels like DT.

• a special school that is hidden and mysterious (after Hogwarts, how can anyone not love this trope -- if done well, of course); they have a you-choose-whatever-class-you-want-to-attend system, and only morning exercise is compulsory!
• a wise-mentor figure that does not let on what he knows -- gah, frustrating!
• secret histories of characters that hook you in
• very-likely hero prophecy plot -- and the icing on the suspense: we're not 100% sure who it is yet!
• intense rivalry/enmity that is looking like it will develop into an unlikely blood-brothers-friendship -- no bonus points for guessing that this was the clincher for me, because DTDraco/Harry, duh. And the pair of male leads are an orphan and an unloved-rich-kid to boot. 
• kickass female leads who fight with sticks and fists; strong women are always necessary 
• a subtle yet supernatural element threading through the world as we know it: do our boys have special powers? which one of them does?
• I can sense the existence of a really, really evil villain, the magnitude of whom cannot yet be comprehended by our protagonists who are embedded in the dramas of youth: figuring out goals and dreams, and juggling school with love, friendship, and bullying.

Basically, yes, it's HP, ahahah. Not all of it of course, but definitely the coming-of-age, finding yourself in the world, the world is more than what it seems, good-vs-evil part.

And speaking of awesome schools -- met K and N at a work course today, and had a hilarious account of the sad state of our Singaporean schools. Sad in the sense of it being... crazy, machine-making, unreal, and inhumane. (In other words, a microcosm of the actual adult world in Singapore, I guess.) K was telling us how she has morphed into a nutso-Mother who texts teachers and is obsessed over tests and exams hahaha -- and how she needs to return to her old chill self.

Because yes, K (oh how I miss her, she's so awesome), was, is, one of the coolest Mums I know out there. When we were in school, she was proof for me of a loving Mum who lived her own life, participated actively in the community, did not micro-manage her kids, and had awesome kids anyway! because you lead and parent by example more than anything. Despite being a busy mother, she still organised our class outings, planned class events, got involved in Muslim efforts, and basically built a career. She didn't miss out on the fun side of life. Of course, her husband is awesome-beyond-awesome. Seriously, behind every great man, is a great woman, and vice versa.

So  anyway, K was telling us in her typical, comic, make-everyone-burst-into-laughter way, of her eldest boy scoring 93+ marks for all subjects in Primary 1 and still not gracing anywhere near the top 10 position in his class. Where apparently, it was not an uncommon event for kids to attain full marks on every single test paper since day 1 in school. Because, it appears, that marks are what all Singaporean parents have their eyes on.

And don't make me start on the increasingly-accepted norm of parents taking substantial amounts of leave because their kid is sitting for PSLE -- APPALLING. I cannot even. what. no, people, no. There is something wrong here. This is not right. Something is not right. And I don't know how or what to say, because they are my friends too some of them who do this.

My future kids, should God grace me with that responsibility, will likely be home-schooled. Why would I want to subject my kids to this life, seriously? So K was like all, yes, I need to home-school them, and what about character and resilience and tenacity and less outcome-oriented-ness and we were laughing it out.

God, I miss my class. I miss these two friends of mine. And unless it's Hogwarts or Moorim, I'm not sure I want to let my children go to school.

i fail to be light, yet again

Sitting by my lonesome in the wee hours of the morning, reading, and blogging, and doing whatever crosses my mind -- because my short holiday break from work has commenced! yay.

Maybe I really should consider having leave from work like this on a regular basis, so that I can return to my reflections without the thought of work responsibilities cluttering my mind. And I am aware that my being single and having generally few responsibilities allows me the luxury of delving into my personal projects to what feels like almost-infinite lengths of time. Alhamdulillah for that and for all the little things I fail to perceive.


Thoughts in point form!

* I thought today about how independent I am, or in other words... how selfish I am? Clearly, I don't run the nitty-grittys of my life, such as putting a roof over my head, since I live under my parents' roof (it's only monetary contribution that I give). Obviously, I owe a lot to them, and I need them; life would be way more of a struggle without them. I probably should express more gratitude for all of that. But what I mean when I say independent is the sense that I don't like being... tied down, told what to do, given expectations and roles to live by. And in general, I feel like I don't depend, or at least I don't want to depend on them. It's horrible of me, but I have now and then envisioned myself living somewhere far away by myself, so that I didn't have people's expectations to live up to. So that I could totally and freely explore being me without feeling like an ingrate. Which I feel like I am right now, hence this rambling. Don't get me wrong, I love my family -- couldn't have been blessed with better. But I always wanted that being by myself thing -- and it was probably the biggest push for me to study overseas when I was younger and hence was more than disappointed when I didn't manage to.

Oh gosh, it's been some time since I've blogged and felt like I needed to delete something because it shouldn't be for public consumption. And then I will often have a fight with myself because I fight for authenticity, and another part of me will fight for my self-image, because really, S, do you want to shoot yourself in your foot? Why do you always sabotage yourself?

* Which brings me to a memory of what Y said when we met up at the baby shower, after a long time. She exclaimed, Hah, you're still blogging??? and further implied how ridiculous it is to display things for the world to see. Which made me almost want to strike her off my friend list, but luckily, I treasure our friendship -- okay, I kid. I was hurt and affronted, so I gave in to some vindictiveness.

But really, how does one write at all if one does not write what one knows? And I already have a hard time half the time trying not to be too specific talking about things because yes, Y, despite what you said, you do know that I do not write things for the world to see. I don't mention people or even events clearly enough to have them be identified with more than a 60% certainty (most of the time). And the problem with that is, when you try to discuss or talk about things, it gets... fuzzy, and difficult, and meaning gets lost in my abstractness. Or even I get lost in my own abstractness -- when really, at the end of the day, I was really just upset that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, end. It is not easy to be an authentic reflective public blogger! (who also attempts to be politically, and socially correct)

Yes, why do I even do this. Other than the fact that I simply have the impulse to write.

* I really don't like who I am tonight.

* I feel like there's a general assumption that adults should have reached a peak or a status quo in terms of development of intellect, character, and spirituality. So people just don't feel like reflections like mine above are valid? Why are you blogging? Why are you writing a diary? Grow up!



What are the benefits of confronting one's ugliness? Evaluate them for rectification, I suppose. Swallow the reality of who you are... and then, strive to attain some level of beauty?

As always, I envision holding my heart in my hands, all battered and defective, for all my times of having stupidly dealt with things -- self-sabotage and what-not, and hand them over to You. For I don't trust anyone else, especially myself.

Ah, I should blog, I should just blog. I used to fall to this a lot more frequently, a lot more easily, when I was younger. Because writing things, privately or otherwise, and saying things out -- clarifies one's own thoughts first, before it helps others.


The fruit of all the service that I serve
Despair doth reap, such hapless hap have I.
But though he have no power to make me swerve
Yet, by the fire, for cold I feel I die.

In paradise, for hunger still I starve;
And, in the flood, for thirst to death I dry.
So Tantalus am I, and in worse pain
Amids my help, and helpless doth remain.

Help me to seek, for I lost it there, 
And if that ye have found it, ye that be here
And seek to convey it secretly.
Handle it soft and treat it tenderly,
Or else it will plain and then appear;
... Help me to seek

... I wis it was a thing all too dear
To be bestowed and wist not where;
It was my heart. I pray you heartily,
Help me to seek.



Reading this for God-knows-how-many-times-already, but today hit me differently, harder, than before. And made me want, in that very instance, to go home and cry into a pillow. But instead, I sat sipping a Mango macchiato at a KOI cafe, stared into space, and waited for a meet-up with J.



Then there are excellent comic moments that make me snort out loud, like when Nostradamus was trying to advertise his complexion cream:

"If used from the age of fifteen," Master Nostradamus said briskly, "it will preserve lifelong beauty and enable the skin at sixty to look as young as that of a twenty year-old. The contents are quite pure. Sublimate, quicksilver, rose-water, and the saliva of a young person who for three days has eaten onions without vinegar. Boiled, I may assure you, for the length of two Paternosters and two Ave Marias, repeated with reverence."

...

She sent for the pot of complexion cream. If one had to turn back the clock, one might as well begin systematically.



I'm trying not to be deliberately cryptic, really, but these are my thoughts, all jumbled throughout the day. Was it Walt Whitman the poet who said -- I am large. I contain multitudes. To put them all to coherent form and give commentary, is maybe to analyse prematurely, who knows. Besides, I don't think I have the mental energy. Let me just have them recorded, and some other day...

On a lighter note, put forth by the lighter aspects of my self:

It goes to show how far gone I am that I get how this is funny.  This was AWEsommmmmeee! ohhhmygod. Unfortunately, unless you have enough knowledge of the history of this show, and the history of its members, this wouldn't be half as funny. And it shocks me again -- how am I this nut. Why do I so easily get sucked into things.

And Gary's latest music video has Jihyo in it --

Way to fan the flames, Monday couple.

You two just know you'll rake in all the $$$ exploiting your very evident chemistry, deshou?

Last but not least, something I just finished watching, that talks about the importance of mentors.

It has crossed my mind several times: Who can help me? I don't know anybody. 

Where do I find them? Oh, I kid myself. 

Several names and possibilities have already popped into my head. 

The question appears to be, 

how do I gather the guts and the discipline to do what needs to be done?

Well, now I just feel silly.


Just came back from the yearly Ihtifal Maulid Nabi (i.e. celebration for our Prophet's s.a.w. birthday) -- only in SG this time round, meh -- and I was reminded today how small my self-absorbed problems were. Yes, they bother me. Yes, they unfortunately exist, at least in my mind. But the moment I started thinking about Nabi s.a.w., all I wanted to do was cry and cry and cry. For being so silly. For ever forgetting about him and the big picture and trust and faith. I don't like being this silly, pathetic woman. I want to be strong and work hard and make you proud. Please keep me close to you.

Today was very long, but I noticed a bit more this time how we were all concertedly there together, despite language barriers, racial differences, across distances, and across comfort zones, to be united under the same Prophet. It made me happy. Like, given another situation, would we be doing this? Would I have gone to a Tamil-Muslim house, say, to visit one of their boys who recently got into an accident? Would I go out of my way to take care of him seeing as how he's going to be coming to KK Rehab for therapy? Would we sit listening to Qasidahs in Urdu and Burmese and funny English lines thrown into the midst of the drumbeats? Would I have otherwise ever gotten to meet and hug and love people who I barely know but feel an affinity for? Sudanese, Yemenis, Syrians, Egyptians, Saudis, Malaysians, Indonesians and Burmese.

I'm remembering the two Syrian boys I met a year ago -- I hope they're fine. The family was already out of Syria and living in Turkey by that time when we met.

There's so much work to do out there, S. Let's get cracking. I think it's good that Rabiul Anwar is coinciding with the Gregorian New Year. Makes for a refreshing all-round renewal.

c'est la vie

Ah, I meant to post before the new year! but as always, procrastination is my greatest weakness.

I actually had two previous drafts for my final end-year-reflection post, but because I had a super-ambitious post in my mind, I kept stalling with the writing and neither of those drafts got completed. So I figured -- S, stop being ambitious and just write, dang it.

Here are my thoughts and ramblings as the new year begins and 2015 is no more.



*My battles stay the same. Still fighting feeling weird and out-of-place in my late twenties. Every day I question why I'm so weird. Why can't I just be normal like everyone else. I think I've lost count the number of ways I've tried to think about this, me, my life. I've told myself it's all in my head, I've recognized and acknowledged that it's a very INFP trait, I've tried to change my mindset, and I've even attempted embracing my perceived weirdness. I have my good days, but this outsider syndrome with its negative emotional effects persist. Sometimes I get a headache thinking about it cause obviously I go around in circles.

*Starting a book club possibly one of the best things that happened in 2015, hand-in-hand with the growing love and attachment to my Kindle.

*Unpleasant experiences in the second half of the year with respect to attempting and obliging to be paired up in real life. Reality clashing terribly with my idealistic thoughts. Realising that I simply cannot live with the cognitive dissonance -- to the point of physical discomfort, really. I cannot pretend to do things for the sake of practicality. I am idealistic, and I don't know how to live or think any other way. And then, having made my decisions, I bash myself up about them and the level of ingratitude I exhibit. There is nothing more tiring and more surely leading to depression than constant self-blame and guilt. I think that's why my angst resurfaced as well, and haha, reading fics like this not helping very much either:

Why is everyone married?” I cry after Mrs Kennedy leaves, “Am I the only one?”

“I’m not married,” Linda points out, “And I wouldn’t worry about it, love. Plenty more fish in the sea.”

“No, haven’t you heard? Fish are becoming scarcer and scarcer! That’s why salmon is so expensive these days! THERE ARE NO MORE FISH!”

“Calm down,” Gladys tries to soothe me.

“And anyway, I caught my fish and threw him back in,” I say, “I don’t deserve any more fish.” 

— Still Delicate, padfoot4ever

*Work was wonderful in comparison. I've had a great professional year. The work team has shifted in terms of dynamics, for the better. I feel more confident too, more trusted as a valuable team member -- one of my seniors even dubbed me the outpatient guru because I do so many outpatient speech-language clinics! I've been given opportunities to explore new theories, new ideas, learning new things; my thirst for knowledge is sufficiently fed and watered within this field and I find joy amidst the bustle of everyday work. I haven't shared this with anyone yet, but I might even recommence inpatient training. And my plan for the future keeps shifting -- I have ideas about my own personal projects, but I also feel increasingly attached to the team, to the environment, and the learning that does happen within the pressure cooker.



Having said all that, overall, I do feel calm in general about life. I do feel like I'm not stagnant, and that's what counts. And that though I struggle, I feel I'm growing. Or maybe in fact, because I struggle, then I grow. I pray that I never lose guidance and continue to seek it, because life is a long journey and more often than not, a rough uphill climb.

some love stories are really forever

This isn't my wrap-up post for the year, although I've been really, really meaning to -- but the family just watched Dilwale together hehe, and I just wanted to post this:

Honestly, the plot was so weak, it barely crawled. 

But if anything, this was a tribute to the Shak Rukh-Kajol pairing 

that has spanned more than 20 years; and that, I fully support.

Seriously, the both of them on-screen together is just so awesome, 

I'm starting to wonder which pairing in Bollywood could ever replace them! 

And juxtaposed against the young couple pairing in this movie 

only highlighted the amazing chemistry even more.

Not to mention that Kajol looks inexplicably gorgeous -- how on Earth.

2015 coming to a close soon, my friends. And yes, I owe a blog post.

my reflection post for the year is due, it being December! Subhanallah how this year has flown, and every year seems to be flying by faster.

Don't think I have the energy to give a full reflection piece yet, but maybe a quick wrap-up of the main events of the year -- like my brother getting married and therefore me gaining another sister. Sisters are always great to have! (:

Also, this year has record number of friends having babies!

Pigey being the most recent, and the most...

jarring? is that the word to describe the feeling?

I mean -- it doesn't feel that long ago 

when we were all kids ourselves and being thoroughly silly and immature.

How is it that one of us has a kid? Haha.

Also, this is just lovely and should be kept.

Tala'al badru 'alaina -- 

one of those songs my siblings and I learnt before we properly learnt to talk

and this makes very big fuzzy feelings in my heart.

after all the hate, seriously -- I cried like mad watching the Canadian PM giving his speeches.

Ya Rasulullah, please let your light shine in deserving hearts.

Amin.

Reminder to self:

submit.

I've been more and more in this very resigned state in recent times,

and what with all the horrors happening with respect to Muslims around the world.

It feels so exhausting, 

inside, outside, all of it.

I need to cultivate my supapawa

There will be moments when I have entire posts planned in my head, even specific lines that get conjured up that beg to be written down -- but then, time moves on, and the plans and lines fade from my mind, losing their intensity. They missed their moment, and cannot be reproduced without them feeling fake.

Which is why, words are also time beings. Words are especially time beings. You've got to catch them when they form and grasp them tightly for transfer onto something more concrete, like paper, or video, or at least into someone's memory.

This story is intensely philosophical, moving, and made me cry unexpectedly; 

but written with the straightforwardness of a teenage girl.

It's the cold fish dying in your stomach feeling. You try to forget about it, but as soon as you do, the fish starts flopping around under your heart and reminds you that something truly horrible is happening.

Jiko felt like that when she learned that her only son was going to be killed in the war. I know, because I told her about the fish in my stomach and she said she knew exactly what I was talking about, and that she had a fish, too, for many years. In fact, she had lots of fishes, some that were small like sardines, some that were medium-sized like carp, and other ones that were as big as a bluefin tuna, but the biggest fish of all belonged to Haruki #1, and it was more like the size of a whale. She also said that after she became a nun and renounced the world, she learned how to open up her heart so that the whale could swim away. I'm trying to learn how to do that, too.


At one point, Nao, the teenage girl, asked if only depressed people cared about philosophy. And that line made me even sadder, because when I get into one of these philosophical moods, I do feel extra sad, extra like-an-outsider, and thinking how, my God, I don't think I'm made for this world at all. Oh well -- Nabi s.a.w. did say that some of the best people are the ones who travel this world light, knowing that we're really not here for forever.

It's amazing my love affair with books: how they affect me, and leave major imprints on my heart, on my mind.




I've been remembering this thought, this memory: I remember going for a scholarship interview years and years ago, and nerdily mentioning Lymond, in relation to either books I love, characters I admire or citing leadership quality maybe -- can't quite recall. And then the Indian man who interviewed me said something about how this book must be really popular, the boy who was in just before you mentioned him too! At which of course, I almost got entirely derailed from the purpose of my being there (i.e. a job/scholarship interview) -- because Lymond? Popular? A boy reading it? Are you kidding me??? My eyes must have been almost rolling out of their sockets in shock. I think I insinuated to the interviewer that he must have been mistaken, but he was like, Really! And I was like, Okaaay...

I concluded by the end though, that the interviewer really must have been mistaken about Lymond -- there was no way it could be true. I could not find a single human being in my vicinity who was reading Lymond when I was, and I had to force my friends to read the books just so I could have people to discuss with! That was how desperate I was.

If it was true though, then: who is this boy! That's what I wanted to know. We would have had lots to discuss.

My sister asked, "What would you do if your friend or the person you love does something really bad, or something you don't like?"

I said, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."

Ahah.

Have I mentioned how I've ambitiously purchased Shakespeare's sonnets on my Kindle?

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alterations finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov'd,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

Subhanallah.

So angry. And I think I manifest anger in strange ways. I often say how anger in me usually transforms quickly into sadness and depression.

Maybe a couple of nights' sleep will do some good and then, I will get back some equanimity and deal with this in the best way possible, insya Allah.

I want to please You. I want to please Your Beloved. Forgive me if it has been otherwise. Forgive me that I am still trying.


I really don't understand how some people are just out to condemn. Such negative thoughts! Isn't there that aphorism: people live up to your expectations of them! Why constantly think the worst of other people! I am so sick of it, truly.

I read on a little further and found this.

In reality, every reader, while he is reading,
is the reader of his own self.
The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument,
which he offers to the reader to permit him to discern what,
without the book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.
The reader's recognition in his own self of what the book says
is the proof of its truth.
-- Marcel Proust

The value of fiction is that ironically it helps us see the truths in ourselves? (:

So when I feel like I see parts of my life in a story, it's only because I'm reading a great piece of fiction that's teaching me more about myself.

And E reminded me of this great piece: Can Reading Make You Happier?

So I finally watched Interstellar after L completely bugged her eyes out at me when she learnt that I hadn't seen it yet. And especially after I said how much I love stories that incorporate some concept of time.

One of my favourite bits of dialogue here -- 

that made my heart thud at the possibility of this theory:

I need to sit and discuss this movie with someone. Because, uh, I am somewhat confused. Someone needs to explain certain things to me, like how I'm supposed to wrap my head around the concept of five-dimensional space or how the heck Cooper dropped through a black hole and ended up where he precisely needed to be? Are we saying we still don't know the "they" that have been mysteriously placing things in just the right places and times for them? Or are they themselves the "they"? Cooper said he brought himself there. Or are we not supposed to know the "they", we just know they're there and they have been helping and the whole point is to trust that there's a they out there looking out for us... out of love? Is it God? Is it us? Is it fate as a tangible thing? Is it future humans taking care of their ancestors? (Oh my god, did I just mention off the top of my head a series of divine beliefs including Chinese ancestral worship? GASP -- I just proved to myself why this movie is starting to build a cult following.)

Like what the heck, you Nolans! Storytelling geniuses, and way to not let me sleep tonight.




This movie and our current seriously-awesome bookclub read, A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki, are both making my head hurt, my heart hurt. Things are resonating painfully with what I feel in real life. And I don't know if I'm imbuing meaning to the text, or they really are messages to me -- how do I tell? How do I tell. It's like little Murph in tears, trying to convince her Dad that there's a message that's telling him to stay, except no one believes her. So how to keep faith? How.

This place is designed to break your heart. 

It was designed that way. 

If you're looking to be happy in the dunya, 

you're in the wrong place.

I never tire of that quote. 

Every time I hear it, it jars me again.

I really needed this.

Yoshi, ganbatte!

Let's work hard at life.

How is it already November.

This blog has started to crawl to almost a standstill. It hasn't been like this in more than 10 years.

I have no idea what this means, if anything.




Been revisiting old angsty feelings (are all these events connected somehow? -- the slow blogging of my early teenage days, the angst, the fanfic reading; yes, you heard me). I haven't felt like I want to break plates in a long time. But tonight, in between being properly adult and sane, there were brief flashes of angst.

Maybe it really is because of the fanfic I just got done with -- and you know how some people are 90% what they just read? Yes, maybe that's it. The protagonist is such an angry woman, I think she's rubbing off on me.


I should probably go read some proper literature.

It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion;
it is easy in solitude to live after our own;
but the great man is he
who in the midst of the crowd
keeps with perfect sweetness
the independence of solitude.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

waxing fangirling nostalgia

This is here because I couldn't stop laughing while watching this --

it's fangirling in action:

Fangirling in whichever genre, language or country is the same; 

the falling all over the floor like crazy especially cracks me up!

And I totally approve: Song Joong Ki remains on my favourite Korean actors list without budging -- and staying power more than anything bespeaks value, right? 

GOD. I wish Joong Ki was still a Running Man. 

Then we'd get to see him every week.

This fangirling behaviour reminds me of the time my friends and I were having breakfast during our recess from Arabic class -- and lo and behold, Nouman Ali Khan was sitting at the next table. I saw him first -- cause the sole lady there was staring pointedly at me when we were obliviously hunting for seats -- almost as if daring me to notice. Which I did, of course. When we sat down, I quietly announced to my table what was happening -- and the flurry that followed, ohmygod. HAHAHA. HILARIOUS. Because my cousin became completely flustered and got everyone else flustered and went like, "Where, where! How, how!" And the moment the boys from our class started moving towards him, the ladies jumped out of their seats too: "We want a photo also!"

Not to mention tripping over our feet in front of him and shaking so badly that it was impossible to take a photo. Ridiculous! I was so embarrassed. If it was just me alone, I would probably have feigned ignorance and quivered with excitement inside at best.

Even if it was Yamapi at the height of my youthful infatuation (I can't believe I'm so over him now -- ah, fickle celebrity love), I probably would just freeze like an ice block. Overt fangirling needs company.

---

I don't know why I'm in such a random mood tonight --

but here's something else which had me in stitches:

I'm sure I've posted this here before in the past -- but it so deserves a re-post. 

This entire cast was classic.

why are ravens like writing desks?

I'm alive!

This has to be one of the longest breaks I've had here in years. Not sure why it happened -- just maybe the fact that there was always a gazillion other things that took priority over this blog, valid or not. I think it's gotten to that point again -- why am I writing? who am I? (like seriously, S, at age 28?) I'm still discovering or rediscovering facets of myself -- I suppose it's always better to be growing than not.

Lots have been happening.


*A few friends and I have started a book club! And it's one of those things in life one just has a very good feeling about -- know what I mean?

*I also had a rather long break from work back in September, starting from Polling Day and stretching on for two weeks -- that included a Bali villa-getaway, an amazing self-paid Social Thinking Conference and Workshop (that gave me awesome ideas for social skills clinics!), and Hari Raya Haji. You would think with that much time away from work, I would get down to reflecting and blogging, right? I don't know what got into me.

*I successfully co-conducted two separate talks in primary schools about teaching and caring for our special kids in the mainstream setting! as M likes to say it --- coola!

*I am way overdue for a proper, reflective post -- my thoughts have been simmering for weeks and weeks. And it needs to be let out -- but believe me when I say I should sleep. I really should just SLEEP instead of blog right now. I don't know if everyone's work day is this much nuts (it probably is because I largely blame our crazy Singaporean capitalist culture for our lifestyles) -- but see, the moment I step into work, like literally the very second I step through those glass doors -- work just doesn't stop. I can buy breakfast but it would seriously be sitting there unopened until maybe lunchtime on some days. Like today, I managed to down my cold tahue whilst I grabbed a 30 minute discussion with my NUS student. The flurry of activity at work is just out of this world -- I am doing magical feats, I tell you. I cannot imagine what the medical doctors are doing upstairs in the wards. They might as well be Flash the superhero, as far as I'm concerned.

*Which brings me nicely to this point: that despite how seriously inhumane work demands are right now, I am so deeply thankful that I love this career. It is possibly my ikigai (:

I cannot imagine slogging away at something I don't at least feel a passion for -- and looking back, taking that step to pursue something different in my younger days, has really been one of the best decisions I've ever made. I've mentioned before: how I've learnt that the right decision appears to be accompanied by a feeling of liberation, rather than a feeling of entrapment. I carry that knowledge now into the future as I battle through other rough, unknown terrains.

*That rough unknown terrain currently being this incessant need to be married off before I tick off like a time bomb or something (whyyyyyy). I question my iman -- it probably is terribly deficient in many ways. But what do I do -- I just. Can't. Don't. Know. All I know is I don't want to feel trapped. Do I even make sense? I hope I do. I want a man who will set me free. I want an ikigai-equivalent in this part of my life too, can?

*Yes, I often speak in hyperbole and metaphor, okay. (It's the way E and I talk all the time. I should totally record one of our nutsy conversations.) Not everything is to be taken literally. Because sometimes, truths can only be seen when situations are stretched to the extreme.

*It's like what Dr. Jeffrey Lang advised us to do in his talk about The Purpose of Life (which woohoo! Shaykh Hamza recommended on his blog after I did okay, hehehe -- see why this shaykh is still my favourite no matter what?):

(circa ~1:49) When you want to investigate the truth about something, assume the opposite and see if it fits the big picture/life/our existence. So for example, if you ask, "Why does God let little children suffer? They're too young to know anything, it's heartbreaking", think of the opposing hypothetical situation where children are invulnerable until they're adult. What do you get? What happens to the world?

Then Mummys and Daddys wouldn't need to be Mummys and Daddys anymore. Parenting would be robbed of its value.

Listen to it:

 

(this is one of several versions you can find on youtube -- but it's the longest!)

Wah it's been a while since I've had a somewhat stream of consciousness post.

Ja -- the kitchen-cleaning still awaits.

Shots of Awe

how have I not discovered this youtube series earlier!

it's basically short snippets of narrative/commentary about anything in the world 

-- always philosophical, thoughtful, and artistic.

mr darcy doesn't exist in this world, S

so what do I do, right?

but maybe, 

if there's a Mr Collins, 

stands to reason...

there may be a Mr Darcy.