A conversation tonight made me realize that I have no role models anymore. The double-realization is that how quick I concluded that fact. I got no one to look up to these days. Nobody's perfect, nobody's even nearly perfect anymore, and that's fine. I like it like that. I like that I can pick and choose and learn from whoever I find light in. Suddenly flaws become strengths. In people's flaws I see their strengths, and learn all the same. By tracing their shadows I find their light. But is that it? Are there other implications to the fact that it it looks like all my heroes have died?
That's where Bon Jovi comes in. This is now the second time a Tuesday night lead me to a Bon Jovi binge. There is something here. I guess a gathering of people trying to open their lives, no matter that it's ever so slight, inevitably open the doors to memories of a time long ago when I had more of this kind, more often and much deeper. But it's been so long, and here I am so very far into the future but still talking of the same thing. I feel pathetic, like the guy in Byousoku, unable to part from my past and move forward to make a new history.
So what is it between Tuesday nights and Bon Jovi? And. That's right. "And" implies a joining, an act of addition, a formation of togetherness. I have no more heroes. That tells me that I have nobody to inspire and influence me on that level anymore. Seen in terms of circles of influence, I stand alone in the middle. Despite everything, I still do feel that I stand alone, fight alone, completely open to nobody. "And" is a significant issue in my life right now.
The thing with rock music is that it speaks to me. Long ago we used to refer to Jon Bon Jovi as Pastor, due to the way we sang along with him, and found ourselves holding our hands on our hearts as we sang his chorus. His songs spoke to us, back in those days. Maybe these songs still do. Maybe I should heed their voices. Theirs was not the only voice to preach this "And" thing to me. Wouldn't be the last either, I think. We were not designed to be alone. It's really hard for me to voluntarily open up and stay vulnerable in this world I live in right now. But this ain't what it's supposed to be, not what life is supposed to look like. There has to be a better way to live than this.
I'm walking around,
just a face in the crowd,
trying to keep myself out of the rain
But the stars ain't out of reach
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
I dunno what's it got to do with it, but tonight's lifegroup somehow lead me to go on a quickie Bon Jovi binge run. I plugged in my supposedly-pretty-good headphones, fired up my old-school Bon Jovi collection, and closed my eyes. For some reasons I went mellow first. I first noticed the drum beats and how I play a lot of these beats now, though I haven't really been listening to these songs for a long time. I guess the subconscious really works. These songs influenced me much longer than the time I spent listening to them. Then the lyrics slowed me down. I'm so tired. God, I'm so tired.
I know I've been running myself ragged since Easter. I couldn't even sit down and read a book anymore. I got such a short attention span these days that I read a few words ahead everytime I try to read a book. I can no longer sit down and watch a movie at home. The longest things I can sit down and watch are boxing matches, which are usually an hour long, but that's only because they're split into three-minute rounds. I'm tired of running around all the time, a rat in a rat race. But I can't stop. Not easily anyway.
These songs remind me of that, of a time when I can relax. It's just a thought in my head, a huge chunk of data in my frontal lobe. I remember these beats by heart, and the lyrics not much further away. They almost instantly brought me back to those scenes. The city lights, the wet roads, the lonely CBD, the Starbucks, the nowhere-in-particular, the best car a man can have. The city is still there, the wet roads repeat themselves, the CBD is still lonely, the Starbucks are all still there, and the car I can get again. But the time will not come back. The memories will not revive. The midnight sing-alongs, the stomach-hurting laughters. God knows what we laughed about. The 1am BK, the 2am McD sundae. The cheap-ass [aka: free] fireworks session by the beach. The 4am Symmonds St. The kebab takeouts by the rugby field. We will never be the same, and we should never be the same again. I don't wish those times to come back. But the memories remain. I guess this is what true "home"sickness feels like. What do you do when your only experience of home is one spot in time? This is loneliness. The longing to belong, for a metaphysical place to rest a soul, a psychological cushion you know you can always count on. As it turns out, I'm not made of stone afterall, and this wolf isn't all fangs.
It's true, I gave love a bad name. Always. This is real life, and it ain't no bed of roses, but I'd die in a blaze of glory if that's what it takes. A lot of times I shout, "Hey God! Give me something for the pain!" There's no one else but us these days. But we live on a prayer, and we keep the faith. Most days feel like a Monday to me, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
The memories are of a time long gone. But I'd be lying if I say those weren't great times. When I'm tired, when I got no one to talk to, when there's no one I trust, when I feel weak and mellow [which isn't very often these days], the memories come back and I have to admit, I try to relive them in my head in vain hope to gain some strength and recover some comfort. I'd be lying if I say I don't miss those times. But at the same time I don't wish them back, because that would de-value them. They are best kept as memories, to remind me such a thing was possible. There is a home. It is possible to have a home, to be completely and utterly comfortable with people, to accept and be accepted all the same. It is possible to live among trusted people. I started writing this on a rather down state. I thought, there ain't no time to waste, nobody left to blame, nobody else but us these days. But by the end of it, I felt that I've seen a light somewhere. The stars ain't out of reach.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the memories.
Hey man!
I'm alive, and I'm taking each day a night at a time.
I'm feeling like a Monday,
but someday I'll be Saturday night!
I know I've been running myself ragged since Easter. I couldn't even sit down and read a book anymore. I got such a short attention span these days that I read a few words ahead everytime I try to read a book. I can no longer sit down and watch a movie at home. The longest things I can sit down and watch are boxing matches, which are usually an hour long, but that's only because they're split into three-minute rounds. I'm tired of running around all the time, a rat in a rat race. But I can't stop. Not easily anyway.
These songs remind me of that, of a time when I can relax. It's just a thought in my head, a huge chunk of data in my frontal lobe. I remember these beats by heart, and the lyrics not much further away. They almost instantly brought me back to those scenes. The city lights, the wet roads, the lonely CBD, the Starbucks, the nowhere-in-particular, the best car a man can have. The city is still there, the wet roads repeat themselves, the CBD is still lonely, the Starbucks are all still there, and the car I can get again. But the time will not come back. The memories will not revive. The midnight sing-alongs, the stomach-hurting laughters. God knows what we laughed about. The 1am BK, the 2am McD sundae. The cheap-ass [aka: free] fireworks session by the beach. The 4am Symmonds St. The kebab takeouts by the rugby field. We will never be the same, and we should never be the same again. I don't wish those times to come back. But the memories remain. I guess this is what true "home"sickness feels like. What do you do when your only experience of home is one spot in time? This is loneliness. The longing to belong, for a metaphysical place to rest a soul, a psychological cushion you know you can always count on. As it turns out, I'm not made of stone afterall, and this wolf isn't all fangs.
It's true, I gave love a bad name. Always. This is real life, and it ain't no bed of roses, but I'd die in a blaze of glory if that's what it takes. A lot of times I shout, "Hey God! Give me something for the pain!" There's no one else but us these days. But we live on a prayer, and we keep the faith. Most days feel like a Monday to me, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
The memories are of a time long gone. But I'd be lying if I say those weren't great times. When I'm tired, when I got no one to talk to, when there's no one I trust, when I feel weak and mellow [which isn't very often these days], the memories come back and I have to admit, I try to relive them in my head in vain hope to gain some strength and recover some comfort. I'd be lying if I say I don't miss those times. But at the same time I don't wish them back, because that would de-value them. They are best kept as memories, to remind me such a thing was possible. There is a home. It is possible to have a home, to be completely and utterly comfortable with people, to accept and be accepted all the same. It is possible to live among trusted people. I started writing this on a rather down state. I thought, there ain't no time to waste, nobody left to blame, nobody else but us these days. But by the end of it, I felt that I've seen a light somewhere. The stars ain't out of reach.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the memories.
Hey man!
I'm alive, and I'm taking each day a night at a time.
I'm feeling like a Monday,
but someday I'll be Saturday night!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Growing Up and Living A Little
I thought I was gonna celebrate turning 28 by a mini-repeat of 2004: bushwalking. In fact, it was looking like a precise replica of 2004, with bad weather whipping the country and forecast looking bad. On Friday night, I was halfway between letting go and kinda wishing for a repeat of 2004. It turned out different, into something I don't quite know how to put into words that make sense. But anyway, here goes.
When I saw on Friday night that the forecast for Saturday turned for the worse, my mind came back to 2004. I didn't initially thought of 2004 necessarily, when I planned on how to celebrate my bday. It was nothing more than a passing thought in my head. At about 7pm Friday night I was ready to call it quits. I stood in the shower for quite a while, mulling over it. At that point, I was a few days into mulling over my openness to receive, in anything. Under the shower I thought, why would God change the weather for my bday? It's just a small thing, nothing big, nothing important. Why would God lift a finger for that? But then all my few days' [or maybe weeks'] worth of discussions with Red came up, the whole issue about me needing to receive more, open myself up to love more. On Thursday night I dreamed of nearly getting stuck in a narrow lift. I'm claustrophobic, so those five seconds constituted a nightmare. So under the shower I thought, what, don't I believe God would save me from things like that? Then I remembered that incident on Easter Sunday, when I heard God strongly told me, "Let me die for you!" He might've even said, "Let me do SOMEthing for you!" So under the shower on Friday night I took an unusual step. I let myself be vulnerable and asked God to make Saturday morning clear. I have to admit though, I was half-hearted. Half of me felt really really bad for asking for such a selfish thing.
Well, it didn't stop raining on Saturday morning. So I cancelled the bushwalk and decided to just go yumcha, such was the plan B anyway. But the Plan B stopped there, I had nothing else after. At that point I began to get a bit nostalgic. You see, when memories of 2004 came back to me on Friday night, I loaded up the 2004 documentary that I made. It reminded me of the good times we had, the great friends I had, the faces I haven't seen in a long time, and started pondering, how did I got here six years later? This sure wasn't the place I thought I'd found myself in six years later. I noted at the end of the clip that the whole bushwalk thing back in 2004 was conceived at 1am in a BK. There's no way that would happen again right now. I kinda miss those moments now, that state of self, those friends, that atmosphere, that fire.
But let's continue with the story. We decided to go bowling, only to find a whole suburb of pre-teens occupying the bowling alley with a few parents. I knew it was the end of it for us when I saw a mom with a huge box full of snacks. Even as we went out I still saw cars after cars full of kids being cattled into the place. It's not a nice place to be. So we left, decided to grab a few movies from my hard drive, and went off to Andrew's. Now, we haven't done this in a long long time, so I didn't know how it would go. Quite frankly, I didn't care, I couldn't think of any better way to spend the rest of the day anyway.
When I revisited my old clip of 2004, it brought me back to Linkin Park. This wasn't the political and anti-war Linkin Park, this was something from 2004. I thoroughly enjoyed the tunes, but couldn't help noticing that the music was all so very teen-angst-driven. It made me chuckle, and my chuckling made me think. Why did I chuckle anyway? Here's where God's sense of humor came in.
This whole thing of me not being open enough, of me being too hard, when I chuckled at old-school Linkin Park I came to a realization to the link, and it's full of holes and maybes. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve more. These days I keep it to myself. Completely. I used to want to say things to the world, to make stuff, to live out loud. These days I just wanna survive another day's work. I consider anything beyond that as unneccessary. I have become apathetic, bitter, and passive. I'm still convinced that teen-angst is selfish, but maybe I've went to the other side too far. In my attempt to live and live more efficiently, I've stopped living.
Having fun should be the easiest thing to do. But in fact, it's probably the hardest thing in my life these days. I asked myself that, and quickly I thought of playing drums. But that's where it stopped. I couldn't figure out what I do for fun apart from that these days. I've stopped enjoying anything else, pretty much. And this isn't new. Back around Easter, Ko Den told me to relax. At the time I thought, yes I know I need to learn to relax, I'm insomniac afterall. I had no idea that it goes beyond relaxation, that I'm having trouble having fun at all. And having fun is important.
When God speaks to you through Vince Vaughn and Jean Reno, you know for sure God is having fun with you.
I need to relax more, not in terms of time-use, but in my psyche. I need to live much less for work. I have to work for a living, not live day in day out to survive another day at work. On the few days when I'm supposed to celebrate that I have lived another year, I was reminded that I should start living again, that maybe parts of me have been dead for a while. Scripture says guard your heart because out of it comes the spring of life. What if I've guarded it too well? Sure it's not attacked, but it's not used either. I hardly ever drink from it these days. I thought our role here is to distribute living water to the world. Maybe I have forgotten that I have the right to drink it too, and drink it as much as I want. I have forgotten to be selfish. I'm convinced God has blessed me enough, much more than I deserve. But what if God also cares about my happiness? What if I take this life more seriously than God? How the heck can you take life more seriously than God, you ask? That's exactly the point, you can't. So if God wants me to relax more, does that mean I've been over-serious?
Maybe life doesn't have to go as hard as it can be. Maybe I don't have to be as efficient as I'd like to be. Maybe this whole story doesn't make any sense to anyone, doesn't even come close to saying everything my heart has to say, and it's okay. Maybe in my excitement to celebrate another year of life I have died a bit more. Maybe God celebrated my life with me by telling me to live a bit more. The heart is a very vulnerable organ, and maybe that's okay. A steel heart wouldn't beat, its structure is too rigid to do that. Maybe being honest, in the face of weakness and soul's selfishness, is necessary sometimes. And even if it's not necessary, maybe that's okay too. Maybe it's okay to say what you really want, no matter how embarassing it is. Maybe it's not want, it's the heart's true longing. Maybe on the surface they look and sound and taste the same, they just end up in different places and satiating different thirsts. Maybe I'm more than self-sufficient enough, and now I need to un-learn some of that a little. Maybe just accepting the situation and stop letting your heart wish for a better world for yourself is not the adult thing to do, just the passive way to live. Maybe it's high time to be more honest, more open, and embrace my neglected self: the heart part. Maybe the heart part is the hard part. Maybe I need to ask for more stuffs more often. Maybe I need to learn that God cares about me more than I care about me, and maybe I don't believe that. Or maybe I do believe that, but just too guilt-ridden to be convinced of it in my daily life. Maybe God doesn't like it when I'm like that. Maybe I need to let my heart live a little.
Maybe the Father wants to give good things to the son, but this son refuses to ask and accept. Maybe this son refuses to feel that he is loved. Maybe this son needs to be more honest with the world, with the Father, with his heart, and with himself.
I wanna feel
I wanna feel like I'm somewhere I belong
When I saw on Friday night that the forecast for Saturday turned for the worse, my mind came back to 2004. I didn't initially thought of 2004 necessarily, when I planned on how to celebrate my bday. It was nothing more than a passing thought in my head. At about 7pm Friday night I was ready to call it quits. I stood in the shower for quite a while, mulling over it. At that point, I was a few days into mulling over my openness to receive, in anything. Under the shower I thought, why would God change the weather for my bday? It's just a small thing, nothing big, nothing important. Why would God lift a finger for that? But then all my few days' [or maybe weeks'] worth of discussions with Red came up, the whole issue about me needing to receive more, open myself up to love more. On Thursday night I dreamed of nearly getting stuck in a narrow lift. I'm claustrophobic, so those five seconds constituted a nightmare. So under the shower I thought, what, don't I believe God would save me from things like that? Then I remembered that incident on Easter Sunday, when I heard God strongly told me, "Let me die for you!" He might've even said, "Let me do SOMEthing for you!" So under the shower on Friday night I took an unusual step. I let myself be vulnerable and asked God to make Saturday morning clear. I have to admit though, I was half-hearted. Half of me felt really really bad for asking for such a selfish thing.
Well, it didn't stop raining on Saturday morning. So I cancelled the bushwalk and decided to just go yumcha, such was the plan B anyway. But the Plan B stopped there, I had nothing else after. At that point I began to get a bit nostalgic. You see, when memories of 2004 came back to me on Friday night, I loaded up the 2004 documentary that I made. It reminded me of the good times we had, the great friends I had, the faces I haven't seen in a long time, and started pondering, how did I got here six years later? This sure wasn't the place I thought I'd found myself in six years later. I noted at the end of the clip that the whole bushwalk thing back in 2004 was conceived at 1am in a BK. There's no way that would happen again right now. I kinda miss those moments now, that state of self, those friends, that atmosphere, that fire.
But let's continue with the story. We decided to go bowling, only to find a whole suburb of pre-teens occupying the bowling alley with a few parents. I knew it was the end of it for us when I saw a mom with a huge box full of snacks. Even as we went out I still saw cars after cars full of kids being cattled into the place. It's not a nice place to be. So we left, decided to grab a few movies from my hard drive, and went off to Andrew's. Now, we haven't done this in a long long time, so I didn't know how it would go. Quite frankly, I didn't care, I couldn't think of any better way to spend the rest of the day anyway.
When I revisited my old clip of 2004, it brought me back to Linkin Park. This wasn't the political and anti-war Linkin Park, this was something from 2004. I thoroughly enjoyed the tunes, but couldn't help noticing that the music was all so very teen-angst-driven. It made me chuckle, and my chuckling made me think. Why did I chuckle anyway? Here's where God's sense of humor came in.
This whole thing of me not being open enough, of me being too hard, when I chuckled at old-school Linkin Park I came to a realization to the link, and it's full of holes and maybes. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve more. These days I keep it to myself. Completely. I used to want to say things to the world, to make stuff, to live out loud. These days I just wanna survive another day's work. I consider anything beyond that as unneccessary. I have become apathetic, bitter, and passive. I'm still convinced that teen-angst is selfish, but maybe I've went to the other side too far. In my attempt to live and live more efficiently, I've stopped living.
Having fun should be the easiest thing to do. But in fact, it's probably the hardest thing in my life these days. I asked myself that, and quickly I thought of playing drums. But that's where it stopped. I couldn't figure out what I do for fun apart from that these days. I've stopped enjoying anything else, pretty much. And this isn't new. Back around Easter, Ko Den told me to relax. At the time I thought, yes I know I need to learn to relax, I'm insomniac afterall. I had no idea that it goes beyond relaxation, that I'm having trouble having fun at all. And having fun is important.
When God speaks to you through Vince Vaughn and Jean Reno, you know for sure God is having fun with you.
I need to relax more, not in terms of time-use, but in my psyche. I need to live much less for work. I have to work for a living, not live day in day out to survive another day at work. On the few days when I'm supposed to celebrate that I have lived another year, I was reminded that I should start living again, that maybe parts of me have been dead for a while. Scripture says guard your heart because out of it comes the spring of life. What if I've guarded it too well? Sure it's not attacked, but it's not used either. I hardly ever drink from it these days. I thought our role here is to distribute living water to the world. Maybe I have forgotten that I have the right to drink it too, and drink it as much as I want. I have forgotten to be selfish. I'm convinced God has blessed me enough, much more than I deserve. But what if God also cares about my happiness? What if I take this life more seriously than God? How the heck can you take life more seriously than God, you ask? That's exactly the point, you can't. So if God wants me to relax more, does that mean I've been over-serious?
Maybe life doesn't have to go as hard as it can be. Maybe I don't have to be as efficient as I'd like to be. Maybe this whole story doesn't make any sense to anyone, doesn't even come close to saying everything my heart has to say, and it's okay. Maybe in my excitement to celebrate another year of life I have died a bit more. Maybe God celebrated my life with me by telling me to live a bit more. The heart is a very vulnerable organ, and maybe that's okay. A steel heart wouldn't beat, its structure is too rigid to do that. Maybe being honest, in the face of weakness and soul's selfishness, is necessary sometimes. And even if it's not necessary, maybe that's okay too. Maybe it's okay to say what you really want, no matter how embarassing it is. Maybe it's not want, it's the heart's true longing. Maybe on the surface they look and sound and taste the same, they just end up in different places and satiating different thirsts. Maybe I'm more than self-sufficient enough, and now I need to un-learn some of that a little. Maybe just accepting the situation and stop letting your heart wish for a better world for yourself is not the adult thing to do, just the passive way to live. Maybe it's high time to be more honest, more open, and embrace my neglected self: the heart part. Maybe the heart part is the hard part. Maybe I need to ask for more stuffs more often. Maybe I need to learn that God cares about me more than I care about me, and maybe I don't believe that. Or maybe I do believe that, but just too guilt-ridden to be convinced of it in my daily life. Maybe God doesn't like it when I'm like that. Maybe I need to let my heart live a little.
Maybe the Father wants to give good things to the son, but this son refuses to ask and accept. Maybe this son refuses to feel that he is loved. Maybe this son needs to be more honest with the world, with the Father, with his heart, and with himself.
I wanna feel
I wanna feel like I'm somewhere I belong
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Glitches And Detours
I decided to drop the idea of transcribing my Hillsongs notes into a coherent narrative that I can put here daily. I just got too lazy and they don't make sense anyway, once rearranged like that. Instead, they will stay in my physical notebook, ready to dish out when the time calls for it.
I learned something new today. As I drove home, the van's engine was cut off just before I got to the motorway. Luckily I managed to get it restarted before the traffic moved along. Five minutes later, I felt the pedal was getting heavy just as I was climbing up harbor bridge. Luckily it didn't die there. Down the bridge I went, and to the side of the road because the engine had cut off again. The first time around I thought it was battery problem, because that's what I had with my car previously. The second time around, I realized that I have ran out of gas. I was about three minutes away from a petrol station, so I kicked it to start and fought along. Ten meters later, I knew I wasn't going to make it. So there I was at the side of the road. The solution was quite simple, just walk to the petrol station, borrowed a container of some sort, get a few liters of diesel, and walk back. Problem was, there was about 40m left of the motorway, without a footpath. So, one block away from a police station, I broke the law. Twice. Everything went as planned. Nobody broke into the van. I didn't see a single cop. And the van is up and running now. The whole ordeal took a bit less than half an hour.
Looking back now, an hour later, it feels funny. But an hour ago, I sure wasn't laughing. It wasn't a dire situation. I knew exactly what to do, I had lots of time, the sun was still up, and it wasn't raining like it had the whole day. There were so many other things that could've gone wrong but didn't. It could've been raining. I could've gotten hit by a car on those 40-60m of illegally walking on a motorway. Afterall, it's illegal for a reason. I could've met a cop and had to explain all that stuff. Instead, everything went absolutely fine. That's God right there.
That was just a small thing. The biggest thing about it is that I've never experienced that ever before. Well, now I have. I learned something new today. Sometimes things don't go as planned. Sometimes I have to take a detour, an extra half an hour to the journey. Sometimes I have to do things I've never done before to keep going forward. In a tidy culture here in New Zealand, a detour is an annoyance, a disturbance in the force. Not always so, I learned today. So the next time things don't go as planned, I will remember that it may not be so bad afterall.
I learned something new today. As I drove home, the van's engine was cut off just before I got to the motorway. Luckily I managed to get it restarted before the traffic moved along. Five minutes later, I felt the pedal was getting heavy just as I was climbing up harbor bridge. Luckily it didn't die there. Down the bridge I went, and to the side of the road because the engine had cut off again. The first time around I thought it was battery problem, because that's what I had with my car previously. The second time around, I realized that I have ran out of gas. I was about three minutes away from a petrol station, so I kicked it to start and fought along. Ten meters later, I knew I wasn't going to make it. So there I was at the side of the road. The solution was quite simple, just walk to the petrol station, borrowed a container of some sort, get a few liters of diesel, and walk back. Problem was, there was about 40m left of the motorway, without a footpath. So, one block away from a police station, I broke the law. Twice. Everything went as planned. Nobody broke into the van. I didn't see a single cop. And the van is up and running now. The whole ordeal took a bit less than half an hour.
Looking back now, an hour later, it feels funny. But an hour ago, I sure wasn't laughing. It wasn't a dire situation. I knew exactly what to do, I had lots of time, the sun was still up, and it wasn't raining like it had the whole day. There were so many other things that could've gone wrong but didn't. It could've been raining. I could've gotten hit by a car on those 40-60m of illegally walking on a motorway. Afterall, it's illegal for a reason. I could've met a cop and had to explain all that stuff. Instead, everything went absolutely fine. That's God right there.
That was just a small thing. The biggest thing about it is that I've never experienced that ever before. Well, now I have. I learned something new today. Sometimes things don't go as planned. Sometimes I have to take a detour, an extra half an hour to the journey. Sometimes I have to do things I've never done before to keep going forward. In a tidy culture here in New Zealand, a detour is an annoyance, a disturbance in the force. Not always so, I learned today. So the next time things don't go as planned, I will remember that it may not be so bad afterall.
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