it's far too late for me to be up and blogging - or is it far too early? it's one oh-three a.m., and i have an evidence lecture at nine which i fully intend to go for. i was almost tempted to say "i have an evidence lecture at nine tomorrow." why do we always refer to the coming day as tomorrow even when we're talking about it after midnight?
***
so we grow together, like to a double cherry,
seeming parted, but yet an union in partition;
two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
so with two seeming bodies, but one heart
- helena, from a midsummer night's dream
jon's leaving for india on sunday, and we've been staying up to talk for the past two weeks or so - hence my new pimple and distinctly dark shadows ringing my eyes. yesterday we went for bak chor mee - i waited until nine-thirty p.m. to have dinner with him - and after eating bak chor mee we sat in the car just talking.
(i love undercooked liver! i can see some of you looking disgusted but it is so good. especially when found in bak chor mee drenched in vinegar and cooked by the skinny auntie who smokes, at the coffeeshop next to fei siong.)
so i've become used to staying up, and today's no different, probably helped along by the cup of coffee i very reluctantly drank so i wouldn't fall asleep during chinese class. i can still taste it now; i usually have my coffee without sugar kopisikosong but the uncle must have made a mistake and forgot about the kosong. it tasted perfectly awful, i didn't like the sweet aftertaste at all.
but tonight we haven't talked and i don't think we're going to, because jon's out for supper with his friends. and because i couldn't sleep, not just yet, i turned to my bookcase and decided to re-read fifteen, by beverley clearly. abigail didn't quite like it but i do.
it's like all good childrens' books, capable of being re-read until you know all your favourite parts of the story, yet still making you think and feel all - is sappy the word? or is it wisdom, or the glad realisation of how far you've come?
which i believe i have. i've said this so many times in so many posts in this third revival of this blog, and i think i will go on saying it for a long time more, God willing.
maybe 21 really is the age where we come of age. sitting next to jon and holding his hand yesterday morning (it was past midnight), thinking back on all the failed relationships and violent emotions of the past, realising that the past doesn't matter anymore just because, and not just because it cannot return. and yet it matters and will go on mattering insofar as it's taught us about who we are, is teaching us still how alike we are, and what a miracle, a blessing from God, we are to each other.
like ice-cold beer, an e flat major seventh chord; bak chor mee sua from circular road, sunsets by the singapore river. because you believe in true love and anyone who does will make mistakes - i know i have. and because God's writing our story, and as He wills, it will go on being written.
i don't look retarded enough in this picture but oh well. that's relative, considering i have cream from my birthday cake on my face. but my mouth is not open and i do not look weird.
***
so we grow together, like to a double cherry,
seeming parted, but yet an union in partition;
two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
so with two seeming bodies, but one heart
- helena, from a midsummer night's dream
jon's leaving for india on sunday, and we've been staying up to talk for the past two weeks or so - hence my new pimple and distinctly dark shadows ringing my eyes. yesterday we went for bak chor mee - i waited until nine-thirty p.m. to have dinner with him - and after eating bak chor mee we sat in the car just talking.
(i love undercooked liver! i can see some of you looking disgusted but it is so good. especially when found in bak chor mee drenched in vinegar and cooked by the skinny auntie who smokes, at the coffeeshop next to fei siong.)
so i've become used to staying up, and today's no different, probably helped along by the cup of coffee i very reluctantly drank so i wouldn't fall asleep during chinese class. i can still taste it now; i usually have my coffee without sugar kopisikosong but the uncle must have made a mistake and forgot about the kosong. it tasted perfectly awful, i didn't like the sweet aftertaste at all.
but tonight we haven't talked and i don't think we're going to, because jon's out for supper with his friends. and because i couldn't sleep, not just yet, i turned to my bookcase and decided to re-read fifteen, by beverley clearly. abigail didn't quite like it but i do.
it's like all good childrens' books, capable of being re-read until you know all your favourite parts of the story, yet still making you think and feel all - is sappy the word? or is it wisdom, or the glad realisation of how far you've come?
which i believe i have. i've said this so many times in so many posts in this third revival of this blog, and i think i will go on saying it for a long time more, God willing.
maybe 21 really is the age where we come of age. sitting next to jon and holding his hand yesterday morning (it was past midnight), thinking back on all the failed relationships and violent emotions of the past, realising that the past doesn't matter anymore just because, and not just because it cannot return. and yet it matters and will go on mattering insofar as it's taught us about who we are, is teaching us still how alike we are, and what a miracle, a blessing from God, we are to each other.
like ice-cold beer, an e flat major seventh chord; bak chor mee sua from circular road, sunsets by the singapore river. because you believe in true love and anyone who does will make mistakes - i know i have. and because God's writing our story, and as He wills, it will go on being written.
i don't look retarded enough in this picture but oh well. that's relative, considering i have cream from my birthday cake on my face. but my mouth is not open and i do not look weird.
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