Who Am I?

This question is persisting in my mind lately. Who am I really? Why am
I so different and so difficult to deal with?

A colleague has just shared an article on "why Chinese parents do not
say I love you", and my question popped up again. You see, I know my
parents love me, and I do notice those tell-tale signs. Yet, I still
wish they would accept me for the person I am - I mean, the real me.
So what if I prefer sandwiches instead of rice for my regular meals?

I remember very vividly, a friend and I were so overjoyed with the
prospect of visiting UK back in 2008. Our common goal; no rice eating
for the next three weeks! So, did my parents not know about it? The
issue escalated when I returned after a one-year placement in UK. That
was 2010. Well, I rather like having a cuppa and a bowl of cereal with
milk for breakfast. I would like to have my vegetables steamed. And
still prefer sandwiches over rice or noodles. Worse still, I acquired
a British accent, only slight. Now, as a languages enthusiast, I do
believe in speaking English like a native and speaking Mandarin like a
native. The same goes with Malay.

On top of it all, I wanted my independence. Life was so miserable when
I fell into the pit of "dependency". I felt indignant. I became
bitter, I was resentful. How dependent you might ask. Let's see. I
have no control on my own finances (I have no access to my own bank
accounts, and I depend on my parents to withdraw my money), I was
criticised for my dietary preferences, public transportation is far
from my home resulting in me depending on my parents to provide the
transport, and all purchases are done with the help of my parents.
Disgusted.

Since the situation could not be improved, I changed. I learned to
accept things for what they are. But, I did "fight" for my basic
right. I got my very own bank account (not joint) after a little
explaining and discussion with the bank manager. (Still no access to
my own bank accounts despite it). Recently, in a discussion, the issue
of my independence came up again. And guess what, my parents retold
the story on how I obtained my own bank account, but in a different
light.

They said the bank manager would not have let me have my way, if it
had not been because I was "verbally fighting" with them. That is the
literal Chinese expression. Now, "verbal fight" would involve raised
voices, harsh words, and angry faces. None of those were present when
I was asking for my individual bank account. How humiliating and
infuriating!

So, with my non-Chinese ways, the tendencies to "fight"and dating a
foreigner, my mother claimed she has lost me. At this point, I do wish
I could be gone, I could disappear. Vanish. Why? Who am I? Must I
continue living as the person others want me to be?

Without Words

In this highly visual world, I feel there is no place for word
anymore. Few weeks ago, my GM said she only wants pictures or graphics
which are "right into your face", and declared taglines and writings
are not useful. Sigh. I concluded I am redundant as well as all other
copywriters.

Few days ago, someone commented the newsletter I was volunteering for
has too much information, maybe we could take out all the words for a
particular write-up and "let the photos tell the story". Who is going
to tell me the story then? The photos cannot speak, I am sure.
Besides, the photos tell John one story, then, tell Jane another
because, they were not there and they do not know why the photos were
the way they were.

The failings of words, or "written words" in particular do not end
there. I was told, the fact that I wrote a letter was wrong and
"hurtful". And I thought I was being myself. Since when have I been a
chatterbox? Why does everyone expect me to speak so much? And, why do
they expect me to speak up when I know the result is, they would not
listen?

Now, which graphic should I post on Facebook? The image of me
screaming my head off? What should I reply to those reviews on
TripAdvisor? Maybe I could just post a picture of smiling faces so you
interpret it yourself.

I am sure, at many occasions, word has failed me. But in my world,
words have always been my friends - I read the dictionary, I spend
hours reading and looking up new words, I write and write trying to be
creative with my vocabulary, I relish the pronunciations in my mouth
trying to get the right tone and accent and utterance.

I am lost.

The Dreamer's Tears

The tuner is fixing my piano, and from this distance, my piano does
sound very nice. Amazing.

It sounds as though I have made the right hoice. Will my dreams
continue burning? Will I be able to reach those stars?

I wish someone could hear me out and grant me all my dreams come true.

God help me, I pray.

Making a Come Back

It must have been months and months since I last wrote. Life has
changed. I have changed.

And most probably, you have changed too. At this juncture, I feel like
coming home to this corner of "writing", of expressing my self in the
way I know best. Are you still there? Even if there is only one "you",
it does not matter, because I am writing for myself, and not for
others.

No, not feeling inspired at this very moment but, if I were to start
somewhere, I know I could go anywhere. So, this will b the start and I
hope I will be able to go a long way on this journey this time.

Are you coming along?

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross
Text: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
Music: Lowell Mason, 1792-1872
Tune: HAMBURG, Meter: LM
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died;
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

2. Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3. See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.

4. Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

Surprises, Surprises

I realised this morning that I don't really like surprises. To those
who have given me pleasant surprises, WELL DONE YOU!

The emo me...not nice. Never expected my year to end like this. I was
almost in tears, silly SILLY SILLY!

Can someone give me a great big hug??? I need a great big hug! I do!!!

Xiang Ni

Mei yi tian, wo dou xiang ni,
Hao xiang hao xiang ni,
Wo hen xiang ni zai shen bian, ke shi ni bu zai,
Zhen de hao xiang ni!

:(

Passion and Frustration

Listening to Liszt's Liebestod on youtube repeat...

Someone commented that this piece made her cry at ten in the
morning...the first I heard it, I did not recognise that element as it
sounded very much like banging chords and "noise". Tha's the
difference between playing a music with your heart and soul and
playing the music technically. After nearly one year under the
tutelage of Dr. C, I am struggling a lot. Yesterday, it was the first
time I actually "broke down" towards the end of the lesson.

I was very excited before it, nervous in fact, to the extend that I
could not finish my lunch. I wanted so much to share with him the
"music" I have finally found in the pieces I am learning. And the
moment came. As usual, it did not turn up the way I wanted it - too
harsh, rhythm was in a mess, notes all out of place, DISASTER.

So, we have to go through all the things we discussed before.
Metronome, practise by section, separate hands, in rhythm...I was all
right until the very end. I was so frustrated. I mean, I do all things
he asked me to in regards to my practice sessions. But, why they don't
turn out the way it should...maybe I simply do not spend enough
time???

Another thing is, I find it so hard to find the particular bar he
refers to on my score...aaaah! And when he asked me to play from a
section, I was very lost...I mean, I know my score, but I did not know
what he talked about. I was lost. I hate it that way because it was
like I know my map well but, I don't know what was he referring
to....which point exactly. It was like, he said, "you know start from
that blue building" and in my mind, which blue building??? I have to
know that it is the "blue mosque", and not just a blue buiding.
Because along that long journey, I might see many blue buildings...but
a blue mosque there is only one.

All in all, I was in tears - oh, I did my best to control it. I mean,
I wouldn't want to embarrass him (guys and crying girls). Anyway, I
guess now it is up to me to solve this mystery of falling into pieces
whenever he appears. Oh well, I guess I really have to gear up on the
practices - clocking in 3-4 hours per day??? Let's aim for that.

So, if you are reading, I am sorry that I can't talk on the
phone/skype/over coffee/on the net. It is simply a life and a passion
one wants to pursue for some odd reasons.

God help me!

Moved

Now I know that for someone to actually remember your dream is so
moving...yes, someone whom you do not expect to remember it...I am on
the verge of tears.

Recently, I was reminded of my dream which I have been pursuing all
these years and feel it too far-fetched! My tutor wrote:

"I want you to work harder and sit for your diploma so that you can
achieve your dream of becoming a music educator"

So moving...All these while, I feel that I have been "disappointing"
him and frustrating him...but, he has a further mission...Thank God
for my tutor!

All the best in Osaka!

Resigned

The music is playing
I think of that warming sun, of that quiet morning
My thoughts--they are floating
I wish they float no more, but settling, finally.

Now, these words, they are meaningless
They cannot say all my desires and wishes
Desires and wishes deep within a heart that's restless
Oh my heart, be still, be quiet, be...

The music continues to play
I go on dwelling in my dreams so far away
Wishing, wishing you are here to stay
But..., maybe I should let go and quench all hopes, maybe...

Blissfulness...

Currently listening to Yiruma - Beautiful, soothing, comforting and
sweet. Piano music never fails to calm my soul and at times, my
headaches. Despite the discomfort I experience (aches, pains, fatigue)
I feel enveloped in a state of blissfulness.

What can one ask for than the freedom to do what one enjoys like
playing the piano? Like dreaming away about those beautiful scenes one
hopes for? Like thinking of the one one loves? Like writing and
writing and writing???

With Christmas around the corner, I can't help but think of the "real
meaning" of this special day, and how is it special to me. Yes, it
will not be the first time I am celebrating it but, life has changed
and I have too. Many years ago, it was all about gifts exchange,
visiting friends, eating and fellowshipping and at one point,
evangelistic meeting, lucky draw (although they call it blessed draw),
and doing nothing. Then, I was exposed to a new way of celebrating
Christmas - a family based kind of celebration; having meals around
the table, special treat for each person, gifts from family members,
advent service (in expectation of Christmas), midnight mass welcoming
Christmas, Christmas morning service all about the birth of Christ...

I miss the latter, really miss it. Maybe I should start understanding
the link between Christmas and evangelism? The Christian calendar year
begins with Advent, leading up to Christmas...so, how do we re-focus?
Why do we celebrate Christmas? Is it just another channel to share the
gospel of Christ or is it more? Then, we have Easter...

And, do we tell the story of Christmas or do we tell the story of
being a Christian? Once a friend commented after watching a Christmas
presentation, "that was a Christian message, not a Christmas message".
Any difference?

God helps me!

Dare to Dream

Yesterday, a lady came to talk to mum and dad about saving up and so
on. She asked me about my dreams. I told her I don't have any dreams,
and no, I don't fancy being famous.

Well, maybe I was lying. I only felt I am too old for my dreams.
Nowadays, it is always about child prodigy and young aspiring artists
and youthful people. Me??? I started piano at 17. Then, I got
distracted by varsity and works...although completing my grade 8, I
never got anywhere. Do I still dare to dream? If not, why have I
stopped dreaming?

Dreams, do I still have the right to dream? Everytime I see someone
perform on the stage, I can only wish that was me. Then, you might
say, "work harder then". Well, does it mean I can give up my job,
don't worry about earning an income and just play the piano.

So many blind musicians out there are struggling to stay afloat,
mostly very determined and stubborn to "complete the music studies".
At the age of 27 or 28, they are still studying and struggling,
without any work experience. I always thought I need a job and earn my
own living...pay for my own expenses...able to treat my loved ones to
something when I need to or want to.

But now, will I regret it one day that I never pursued this dream of
mine? I just enjoy performing but, with my current skills, I dare not
perform. However, every time there is a chance to perform, I enjoy the
moment I get about performing, I simply grow into it.

Will I be a performing pianist?

Things I Wish to Do...

Here is the list of things I wish to do or have, and never had...well,
taking a risk but I doubt many actually visit this blog

1. Owning a debit/credit card (in Malaysia)
2. Out for a date with a someone
3. Be married and build a family
4. Perform a duet
5. Make payment without fuss over the till (in Malaysia)
6. Have my own internet banking (in Malaysia)
7. Withdraw my own money by myself (in Malaysia)

Are these too much to ask???

Are these too much to ask?

Are these too much to ask???

Are these too much to ask?

Are these too much to ask???

Are these too much to ask???

Hello Baby

They say a child is the gift from God...you are too. But your
stop-over is so short and we can't have enough of you. Oh, so brief...

They love you so much...they really do and I do too...

But, we have to bid you farewell...only God knows...

Baby, how we wish you could have stayed...and add another cheery smile
to many faces...

Yet, you have to leave...it must be tough for your mummy, losing her
daddy only a week ago, and now losing her baby...

Dear God, grant her strength and grant her comfort. Grant her your
peace, and sooth her grief. Bless the family and be with them through
this difficult journey. In Jesus'precious name, amen.

Blogging

As you red this (not sure how many of "you" are doing so), I am
wondering again about my hobby in writing. Yes, I like to write, I
enjoy writing and playing with words and coming up with catchy,
creative, sometimes humorous phrases. Some of you even suggested that
I should start writing a book...hmmm, I never thought I would.

To date, I have four (4) blogs. Yes. You read it right. To date, I
have four (4) blogs. Well, let's put it this way - In the beginning,
there was only one. Then, I thought I should have a different space
for a different group of readers, exploring different topics. Then,
maybe another new perspective should be expressed in a different
style. And then, my circle of friends expanded, so did my blogging
horizon. Now, out of 4, 2 are halfway active, the other 2 are taking a
unlimited break. However, I do love going back to these pages and
reading them and, actually understand the "me" before. Think.

About the "book", maybe a poetry collection. I am no good at fiction.
I enjoy reading those novels out there, but when it comes to creating
one, I am too factual. And yet, writing a factual book, I am not sure
what area of facts I should explore. So far, the only facts you read
are my random thoughts, scattered ideas, complicated emotions, and at
times incoherent rantings. Still, you read them, bless you!

If my life were a story book, it is definitely not a romance.

It could be a picture book, it could be a travel literature, it could
be a self-help...I am yet to define it.

All right, this is going nowhere, but thanks for reading anyway =)

Be Still, My Soul

This hymn is so beautiful and I only felt like being on knees and "be still".

"Be Still, My Soul"
by Catharina von Schlegel, 1697-?
Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897

1. Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.

4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Text: Psalm 46:10
Author: Catharine Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel, 1752, cento
Translated by: Jane Borthwick, 1855
Titled: "Stille, mein Wille"
Composer: Jean Sibelius, b. 1865, arr.
Tune: "Finlandia"

He Called Me BABY

Have you ever wondered why someone would call a person "baby? I often
wonder about that.

As far as I know, I am my mum's "baby" - her most beloved daughter,
noone can replace. In fact, I am listed as "honey baby" on her
phonebook...oops, don't throw up as yet. Other than that, I am
nobody's "baby".

In the past few years, one or two men have called me "babe" or "baby",
all to do with mingling amongst ang mo. But then again, at times I was
not sure if those endearments were truly endearment or mere
"condescending". Anyway, I just played along. So, further to "babe"
and "baby", I got "dear" and once, "darling". Hahahahah!

O, we are talking about men addressing me with those endearments. As
for my girl friends and all other lovely ladies, it is always love,
lovely, gorgeous, dear, sweetheart...I think I like sweetheart. My
English mum and dad often call me "sweetheart"...I think that's very
sweet indeed.

Well, last night, I received this simple email from ...ehem, a man.

"Go to sleep baby!"

Nope, not my father or brothers or boyfriend or anyone close...but
someone I know... =)

Paranoia

It was the weirdest thing that ever happened - two doses of possible
"intrusion" triggered my long-forgotten gastric, and a terrible one.
Even thinking about it now upsets me tremendously.

I know I am being ridiculous, unreasonable, silly and down-right
childish. What is there to fear? Why the fret? Why let myself got wind
up? Stupidity.

Yet, the fear of "stranger" creeps right into me. And this "stranger"
that seemed to stalk me...can't he stop? Didn't he get it? I am not
befriending a stalker!!!

I want a new identity, I want to be someone else...I wish I can
disappear and start anew. Having strong gastric/heartburn (whatever
you want to call it) and less than three hours of sleep is no fun and
really tips me over. Will take a break from FB.

Missing You

Missing you is that pitless longing in my heart
Having you by my side is the most comfortable state of life
Yet, I have to bear more longing - more on missing you for sure
And I do hope, this will end, will end, will end with you always by me.

It is complicated, very complicated indeed
One learning to cope with love, and coping it invisibly
The best I can reach is to see you happy
And my prayer is always "may the Lord grant you joy and, bless you abundantly".

Monday's Blues

It is the very first time I actually experience a Monday's Blues since
I started my new job.

Oh, how could life be so depressing? At least I have my white coffee
to boost my alertness level, and I am feeling so much fresher
comparing to this morning.

I miss you...and I long to talk to you! And I want a hug from you!

Can Monday's Blues be cured simply through a hug?

Oh so blue!