Orbiting Thoughts

What shall I say... I've been living at home like a wretch. Mom likes to make a joke out of my chinese name 闽, which said that whenever within the premises of the 门 I don't get to be anything else than a 虫. As witty talk goes, it didn't much help. What helped was that I realised what was intangibly bricking me up at home, and broke out sometime.

A few days after dragging boots through Hillview I went out for a walk around my Hazel Park neighbourhood... and walked all the way to the Holy Bus Stop across the road from Courts. The bus stop which I stare at whenever I pass it. I used to feel like dying out of despair when someone wasn't there and dying out of embarrassment when she was. Since April I've stopped feeling the former; I'm not sure that it's the correct direction, but there I go.

Before my brain starts purring again I'd make a list of upcoming breakouts from mental prison.
Thursday: Yingshi's goodbye lunch, lecture at NTU by Hooft
Friday: 11am with Sean and Weiyi at Sean's house; going there on foot
Saturday and Sunday: Probably ruthless scheming.
Sunday afternoon: LIGHT programme 1245 hours at St. Mike's room wherever that is
Next week till Wednesday: Attatchment at ECE Department
Wednesday and Thursday: CCA Leaders workshop
Friday to Sunday: Flybynight with Yee Chien, Regina, Xiangjun
The Last Four Days of November: Nyeh hyeh hyeh hyeh hyeh
December: Attatchment to IBM

It is ironic that I often need the computer to really do stuff.
Ruts.

Another list of things in my brain
It's started purring reluctantly.

Number One: The Chalet
I feel obliged to blog the chalet as number one.
Arrived at Costa Sands in the first day wtih Lin Xi and Zhang Xiang where Jun Yan and Geok Han were waiting. Li Rao and Zhang Hao came later, and seven of us proceeded at night to haunt the Pasir Ris neighbourhood on bike.

I had no idea the peace you get in the wee hours until the bowels of the sleeping town was emptied of traffic. We went into Loyang and probed deep into the inaccessible realms until we reached the airport's back gate. There was a narrow pavement demarcating the border between the world of the ghastly nightime forest and that of dreary street lamplights. There was this place where no tall trees or buildings obstructed the Winter Hexagon to our left. There was the Changi Women's Prison, and a truly amazing residential area.

Number Two: Freedom
I don't feel angry at the people who tell me overtly or otherwise that they don't want to talk about religion. I feel sad.

One of my friends felt that it's restrictive and another steers off it like the plague, and possibly for the same reason. Why are you so afraid?

The word dogma makes me squirm inside. It is now close to a sacre, bundled up with blind faith, roteness, the stubbornness of old people, the fallability of ancient received wisdom.

If we try to understand dogma rather than fashionably stomping upon it I believe it will cease to become the "dogma" we hear often of. A dogma revealed, not blindly adhered to, is an attitude; like the respect for the animals who give you meat by not eating them with milk.

It's 1:50 AM, I'm not feeling open and tolerant now and if you sneer at this I might find a pretty big stick and consequently clobber.

Number Three: Death has made cowards of us all
That was what I read on a passage passing off as an advertisement by a Hospice Organisation.

If we know to live life, would we still need to be afraid about death?

I'll stop writing because brain is dying down.
Lord help me.