painting a 1000 :) on a 1000 faces

A piece of cloth of colours
that I am not used to seeing

it's a kaleidoscope of colours,
so different but merged,
woven into one another
how is it possible?
I will never know colours.

but i know,
that if I could, I could,
paint a thousand smiles
on a thousand faces,
i would, i would

the art of smelling is not
just using it as a sense,
but to savour what you smell,
like how you savour what you taste

i just hope you know,
that if I could, I could,
paint a thousand smiles
on a thousand faces,
i would, i would

Why arent there mini-skirts saris?
or pyjamas chong-sams?

You'd probably see, a piece of cloth,
carefully divided into 4 pieces,
They may interact, but never mix.

thats why I wish,
that if I could, I could,
paint a thousand smiles
on a thousand faces,
i would, i would

And then, here and there,
Flamboyant colours appear.
Bold. Defiant.
they stand out
and are unafraid.

With a last thought,
An air plane steering wheel
looks like a bicycle handle.

thats why I wish,
that if I could, I could,
paint a thousand smiles
on a thousand faces,
i would, i would

a simple prayer, and a handphone is saved.

I remember listening to this song every morning on my way to school when I was 15. Every morning, my dad will give me a ride to school, a short 7 mins (depending on traffic) drive. Every morning, I will automatically reach out my hand and turn to this song. Not only was it refreshing every morning, but what a blessing to know that God's mercies are new every morning?

He never sleeps, He never slumbers
by Don Moen

As I learn more everyday about my father, it is indeed a blessing to know that prayers that seem too simple, too trivial and maybe illogical, is the most powerful way of communicating to God and getting things done in His name.

'because God is working in ways that you cannot see'

How very often as christians or simply put as humans, we try to rationalize, understand God's ways. Seems uncomfortable now that we put it like that dosen't it? But how many times do we question (note: in our own strength) endlessly, just to answer quesitons like

'how is the holy trinity possible?' 'If God knows everything, how is free will possible?' 'Can everyone be saved before the 2nd coming?' 'IS THERE A GOD? and if so, how do I prove it?'

Seems silly even for me, to wonder why cant I have the simple faith a small kid, immersed in God's powerful ways and raising our hand to our father in worship. How does God do unimaginable, incomprehensible things we cannot wrap our heads around? Why not look at prayer as an example?

When we are downtrodden, helpless and lost, we cry out in prayer, 'Abba father'
Not only is the message transmitted free, but it is loud and clear to our God that

'never sleeps' 'never slumbers'
and 'NEVER tires of hearing our prayer'

What if we start thinking about God LOVING to hear us cry out to him, (no, he dosen't relish in our troubled times) but I think, that God wants us to cry out to him FIRST everytime we are sad, happy, down, up, upside-down... whichever way our emotional rollar-coaster is facing. Either way, God loves to hear from us.

What is more, as we draw closer to him, and constantly turn to prayer, our eyes and ears will open. Perhaps slowly, but knowingly, you will see God's hands in the smallest of ways. :)

I thought of a rather, funny encounter with how amazing prayer is. Here's my lil story of how prayer works:

a simple prayer, and a handphone is saved.

For those who know me personally, I am nothing short of a walking disaster when it comes to directions, walking without stumbling over something or forgetting about my handphone, wallets, etc. For the record, I once lost around 4 handphones in a year. (and you'd wonder why I never dared to ask for a ... more socially flattering form of gadget.)

Anyway, my dad told me to pray a prayer over my handphone. Seemed silly to me at that time.. in 2008. But, I did. And here's one good example of how my prayer was forgotten by me, but remembered by God.

The scene opens to the day when we were returning back to Singapore. Our group took a cab down to the airport, and i took the front seat, (very spacious, i slept even. hehehe. while everyone suffered at the back.) As I was helping with the luggage, my friend from Australia called me, so i just left the phone on the dashboard.

Once at the airport, I just took my bags and left. Since there were lots of luggage, my handphone's position just went MIAed in my mind. When did I realise my missing handphone? I only realised when we were walking from terminal 1 to terminal 2! The dreaded thought kept running through my mind...

'SHEET... i left it on the van
AGAIN.'

My more resourceful friends (by which I mean, those that are able to speak the local language) called my phone...

no answer.
it was ringing, but no answer.

so we tried to call the hotel. found the hotel no, then found the company that handles all the van services.

I can tell you as with as much assurance as that rain falls that the stress level of the group had risen to an astronomical heights. I was pretty calm.. Pretty routined for me already considering my past experiences. I guess, to exist in a paradox, I responded by laughing and saying

- ' i have faith that my phone will come back cos' its the only phone that I have prayed over. And so far, this phone has lasted the longest'

So we were all heading to get dinner, and we were still making calls to the various people that could have a chance of finding my phone. AND. i took out my pouch to check the flight's no. with my passport

and lo and behold. nestled comfortably at the bottom of my pouch was my DEAR HANDPHONE!! Apparently, I had subconsciously returned my phone back to its rightful place or rather a place, that I could still call my handphone mine, after I shifted back the luggage. However, because that various well-thought actions and movements were termed 'subconscious', it slipped my... well. not so carefully thought-through mind.

Yet, as we can all laugh about my embarrassing moment 0192, I really felt that God was truly at hand in all this. It may be a small issue, I mean, it wasn't like my passport went missing. and yes, the phone didn't return via the van driver or by some miraculous way (but an embarrassing manner unfortunately), but already, God allowed me to 'take care' of this phone. praise God in all his goodness. :)

in summary>>
It ain't difficult. PRAY.

(i cant believe how easy it is to write a post of 983 words and counting!)

In all thanks,
here's a beautiful worship song by parachute band.

'glorify'

thank you for your patience with my 1000+ 26 lead soldiers.
your time spent reading is most appreciated,

gracia

Sophie Milman - It Might As Well Be Spring

i think this song... was written for a person like me. :)
some extra lyrics here anyway at the first stanza and last. but beautiful nonetheless.

The things I used to like
I don't like anymore.
I want a lot of other things
I've never had before.
It's just like mother says...
I sit around and mope.
Pretending I am wonderful.
And knowing I'm a dope.

I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm,
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string.
I'd say that I had spring fever,
But I know it even isn't spring.

I'm starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing.
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When i know it isn't even spring?

I keep wishing I were somewhere else,
Walking down a strange new street.
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I've yet to meet.
I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
Yes, It might as well be spring.

In our air-conditioned, patent leather farmhouse,
On our ultra-modern, scientific farm,
We'll live in a stream-lined heaven,
And we'll waste no time on charm!
No geraniums to clutter our veranda,
Nor single little sentimental things,
No virginia creepers, nothing useless !

the a level results scenario game

5th march. young faces. clothes carefully picked to impress. dyed hair. 4 inch heels. and a couple of shaved heads. we walk into the gathering. parquet tiles. the stage, with the stand ready for the principal's address. Some whisper in excited tones. Hugs among a couple of the mascara-lined faces.

On the 2nd floor of the hall, the J2 students sit. Some bored. Some look out for friends. and there are those plugged into an electronic device to shut out the entire world. Bystanders. Yet, in about one revolution of the earth around the sun's axis, they will find themselves in the shoes of those in the above paragraph. Yet. They continue existing as they should. for now, as they think best fit.

I smile as I see familiar faces, grab an arm or two. Linking arms, and with a thumping heart. I await for my fate. We find the assigned line. I continue observing the familiar faces, but in very different costumes. Sigh. The JC masquerade is always full-time. But well, we gather here for the very last time. To be assigned our fate for at least the next 3-4 years.

. Tick. Tock.
Teachers arrive. I prefer not to meet them. They carry the answers to the questions in our mind. Every body language from them, a smile, a glance even, carries a hope and a sinking feeling in the stomach- that is highly based on the prevading 'worse case scenario' thoughts in my mind. Yet, my not so like-minded friends seem to think otherwise. High-pitched voices. Yes. I guess I have nowhere else to go.

Hi Mr. so-and-so! Oh my gosh! You know our results right?! How did I do?! PLEASE PLEASE!

Oh. The arrival of the one we await for has arrived. Teachers take their place. In front of their assigned rows. They stare. some straight-ahead. Some flip through the brochures. Still others share light-hearted, meaningless conversations with the whosoevers. Right. The woman speaks.

". . . this year . . . expectations. . . national . . . As . . . YJC . . teachers. . . you. . "
'can she just cut the crap?'
'lol'
. . . results. . . comparatively . . . "
sighs. a flip in my stomach.

this is where the game begins.

scene 1: the favourable.
and now for the top scorers.
For those who scored 3 H2 A's...

DEEP BREATH.

"... "
"..." (ahh. knew she would get it)
"..." (WOW. didn't expect him to be up there!)
"..." (aiyah.expected.)
"..."
"..."
"..." (why all science students!)

the 4 A's ...

DEEP DEEP BREATH

the 5 A's ...

"..."
"..."
"..."
(Hey Gracia! isn't That YOUR NAME!!)
(OMY GAWSH! GRACIA!!)
my heart stops, my breathing unsteady.
WAIT.
thats my name.
5 As.
resonate that.
equal that.
( GET UP THERE U GOOSE!)

Tears. I smile. Joy. I lift my eyes heavenward. and in the depths of my heart.
I say 'thank you. father'. and I switch on my phone, and make the necessary calls.

Scene 2: the dreaded

and now for the top scorers.
For those who scored 3 H2 A's...

DEEP BREATH.
"... "
"..." (ahh. knew she would get it)
"..." (WOW. didn't expect him to be up there!)
"..." (aiyah.expected.)
"..."
"..."
"..." (why all science students!)

the 4 A's ..
the 5 A's ... and this year's top scorer is ... ..

congratulations to all students. Now your teachers will hand out your certs by your register number. Remember to collect the relevant brochures. Good Luck to you all, and have a great future ahead.

the rumble of noise. Everyone gathers to their feet.
Teachers fulfill their task.
Screams. the sound of cheers, hoorays, YESes, go out into the air. Smiles. Tears of elation. They belong to the hard workers, the dilligent. The ones who day by day, try their best, listen to lectures, hand in their tutorials. Deserving students. They now reap their rewards that they have slogged hard for.

Then. There is the flip-side of the recipients. and I belong to this category. We too shed tears. But we remain silent. The point where I wish the world would just go away, and this was all a nightmare. But reality. I live in my nightmare. Where can I go from here? How am I going to face everyone? 2 years. I guess I should have known. But. 2 years. And this is where I arrive to. . . No. No amount of comfort, words, encouragement can make me feel better. Don't even try Mr. so and so.. Just let me be. I look over at the smiling faces. Why can't I be part of that group?
. . .

Well. I guess this is where I say. Which do I end up with? In just one more week.
One of the scenarios will suffice. Perhaps a third one will, one that involves mediocre grades that will probably be as good as scene 2. ahh well thoughts. I don't understand how any of this will make me feel any better. But I guess its a good laugh. I think this is the best I can come up with, at 3 in the morning and on a hungry stomach.

the cool night breeze & a CNY steamboat dinner

FOREWORD: I started this entry on the train, contemplating on those magical four words. Then I realised the perfect ending to this entry, was the perfect message I received from a friend that ended today. perfectly.

Take a moment and savour those four words -- "the cool night breeze". Simple, clear and succinct. So clear, its almost transparent. No need to ponder and struggle with it, just a clear simple message. Like a pause in life for

1. 2. 3. 4. 5 seconds.

What a perfect way to describe this moment as I sit next to my window, contemplating on today's events and my unfinished thoughts.

I guess thats how some people are described as 'a breath of fresh air' That's how it must feel. Like a cool night breeze. Not a wind, just a breeze mind you, like a small "puff...." It just blows through you, allowing you to taste, just taste its goodness, its sweetness. But leaves you quickly, leaving the recipent thirsty for more.

That's why I stay still, or we sometimes do. Hoping for that fresh breeze of air to gently brush past us again. So the momentary pause in life is an enjoyable lag, a much needed caught breath amidst our hurried life.

The best group of people I believe have a 'breath of fresh air' tag are hung around the necks of children. Yup, little men and little women. With their chubby cheeks and toufu looking arms and thighs, eyes that stare into nothing but possess a wonder that tells you they see everything.

Children, they are like that breath of fresh air. Innocent, simple, a delight. When in a compliant mood, the stars in their eyes makes your day. When they, without so much as a thought, climb into your lap, a warmth spreads through your heart. When they laugh, hug you, smile, say 'Da da' or 'Ma ma', the cool night breeze brushes past you, and you drink it in, relishing that moment.

Life presents these occasional cool night breezes. They past by quickly, often going unnoticed. Of course we all do experience it, that's why we relish it so when it swings by. But today, I realised one thing. These cool night breezes are not a rarity. They are not some exotic gift that we have to wrap our heads around to find.

Rather, such cool night breezes are often, just round the corner, right under our noses. Often, if we just took slower steps, looked around instead of ahead all the time, the cool night breezes come by pretty often.

And that's what Amanda Yaw from my CG taught me today. After a fabulous steamboat dinner with the CG, I recieved a text message from her, thanking every CG member for their contribution in whatever way to the dinner. That struck me. In just one day, there were that many blessings. That many things that people, not children mind you, did that could warm any individual's heart. There were that many breaths of fresh air. And yet, I walked through the entire day, without realising it. And it took an sms, a whole session of 'count your blessing' and a $10 dinner to make me realise that.

Such is the cost for learning how to appreciate the small things in life. And you'd have thought, it was cliche enough a lesson. But when you think you are all charged up, we sometimes need the continuation of re-charging. Perhaps in a new perspective, perhaps in a new situation... But we can never quite reach "full battery" status.

I recently completed reading "the essence of the thing". But what is "the essence of the thing" truly? Finding that special someone? striking gold? spending time in service for God? Hanging out with friends? Shopping maybe? I guess there is no answer. The essence of the thing lies in... the thing. The breath of fresh air... lies everywhere. It is simply put, already there. It only needs us to pause, pull on the brakes, perhaps do a U-Turn, or just throw your head over your shoulder, and you will find the very thing that

warms your heart
makes you smile
create the twinkle in your eye

and allows you to look back ahead once more in life, and with a light spring in your step, you walk with your head held high to the world, with the biggest smile you painted on yourself. Because. you found

the cool night breeze.

"oh body swayed to music,
O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?'

my brilliant days as an artist in secondary 2

It seems as if it was just yesterday I spent hours in the art room with Ms. Koh, touching up my art pieces and touching them up again. Yet, as I look at the pictures once more, it seems as if the artist in secondary 2 was another person. Today, my creations lie in humble cartoon drawings of friends on cards. Done with a simple black-ink pen and some coloured markers. Perhaps this long break will give me the chance to sit down and take up this... rather pricey hobby once more.

My mock-ups. OR drafts. We do cropping. For my final project in Secondary 2, I decided on the topic of Nature.

I was truly inspired by the wings of the butterfly... so it became my focal point in my final piece.

TADA! my final piece. I must admit, I don't really like it. I like the drafts better.

Here is another art project. Its called my childhood.

ribbons... these are a few of my favourite things!
Its upside down! I dunno why. how frustrating.
this is the final piece... which is not the right way up either. WELL.


haha. and these are what I gathered from cleaning my room today.

My little blue shoes (draft 1)

My little blue shoes
they carry me
Along rocky roads, and narrow paths,
on long tracks that see no end

My little blue shoes
sold at a price
that never was justified
but yet, it humbly stays
as it always is

My little blue shoes
they collect my tears
that form a ripple
to the endless sea
softly, gently, untold.

My little blue shoes
may they be the last,
while my toes may squinch in pain
I still have to carry on
because my little blue shoes,
they carry me .

-- written on the 15th dec. a day when I realised I was stronger than I thought I was. because of my father(s).