listening to: Winter Song

(that i am typing this means another assignment is due. two munster literature reviews in the space of three months? srsly? le sigh.)

for the longest time i’ve always wanted to change church. almost every sunday, since i was 15, i will whinge about it. especially when we moved location to the last bastion of democracy in the nation. sometimes i whinged verbally but mostly mentally, because  the former touches a really raw nerve of the parents. and it seriously makes for one black heart. sunday mornings were always grey skies, thunder and lightning.

but ever since hanging out with them weebits since january, things have changed. not because the circumstances took a radical turn towards become supershinyfluffyawesome, but a strnage thing happened. i didn’t whinge and gripe on sundays because i didn’t have time to mope about the circumstances. i had to get them weebits excited about coming on sundays, and they can smell a faker a mile away. had to get them excited that they were going to learn more about this super awesome God, that they were going to be loved regardless of all the times they nagged to go to the toilet or criticised my choice in fruitplus flavour (arr).

and they put things beautifully. when asked to explain (in the context of jospeh and his brothers) what ‘forgiveness’ means, weebit said that it was ‘to give the other person another chance and to forget about it’. and if you think about it, yeah, forgiveness is really a personal choice. you turning the other way, not because we innately can but because God showed us how. and in giving others another chance, you get one too!

so another chance it is. the notion that getting married is the sole legitimate ticket to another church becomes more silly somehow. not that i would complain if some quirky nerd boy who carries a manhattan portage bag (o superficiality!) comes to sweep me off my feet to another church. but as for now, sunday mornings are bright and shiny. *wistful whistle*

a couple of years ago, a bigshot talked about the No U Turn Syndrome. he was obviously NUTS.

Today was my sunday school class’ turn to do duty and as an incentive, they were promised that they could play soccer if they did well. and boy did those kids nail it. scripture reading (anglican style) done pat, offertory collection with smiles and the sweetest offertory prayer. was kinda worried about the offertory prayer bit because in their weebit minds, saying ‘in Jesus’ name i pray amen’ counts as a prayer. i failz.

so we traverse the wide open spaces of standrewsvillage to get to the court. in a straight line. without a hint of fussing. without needing to bribe them with a million Fruit Plus (apparently the sweet of choice of their very discerning tastebuds). WOWZERS!

watching them amble around, shouting encouragement to each other, showing off to me that they can touch their toes (pfft!) and seeing how they distracted one of the twins whilst i attended to her elbow scrape by recounting their vast repertoire of accidents over the span of their 8yearold life was heartwarming. and in the end, the heat reduced them to blobs so we went to the shaded area and for once, in the two months i’ve started teaching them, they completed their worksheets because they were so zonked they could only respond to my questions and not jibe each other. and they didn’t need fruitplus to keep quiet.

however, having to call them midweek to remind them about their respective duties was quite an eye opener. hearing things like a mother saying  ‘he’s in his father’s house’ really broke my heart. of all my 11 weebits, only two come from families where both parents attend church, and three only live with their dad.

and even though they really can make me paiseh by asking really loudly ‘IS IT NICE’?  in front of the entire church when i had taken communion and they’re beside being prayed for or yelling ‘GOD IS HANDSOME!’ when asked about the attributes of God (really kid, people were yelling God is Holy/powerful/mighty ANDYOUSCREAMEDHANDSOME. WHY!!!!!), or make me sad by using foul language, they also whisper things like ‘my daddy and mummy fight alot’ when you least expect it. and then, as much as you want to hush their hurts, and tell them that yes, weebit are right, God loves you a gillion (apparently the largest number in the world), you know that you can’t really do much. except pray for them weebits, listen to their whispers, and love them despite some of their nonsense.

that, and offer them some fruitplus.

i don’t know if i can finish in 1.5 years. or if i want to.

那些还飞翔著不可思议的梦

雨后的天空会有绚烂的彩虹

像最初相信著我们终会找到自由

(這一刻)

i love collective nouns, especially those of my favourite insect. a rainbow of butterflies. but i don’t think i can be a lepidopterist anymore.

since i think with my fingers, typing here will help in the construction of my research question. *nods emphatically*(dear research question, please appear soon. i don’t like staring at a blank microsoft word screen. love, me)

recess (apart from cumulative bad news in the end) was good on the celluloid front. caught a chickflick (he’snotthatintoyou) and of course the obligatory (slumdogmillionaire).

the first was so insipid that i went home having to think why i felt it was so banal (yeah the things i do instead of proper work). and the only good song in the show was by Talking Heads (OH WOOWOO!!). the movie has the basic premise that every girl knows: don’t call a guy first, don’t psychostalk him and don’t stare at *insert all electronic devices that rule your life* wishing he’d contact you. commonsensical enough for everyday life; not enough to sustain a movie (much less a book!).

and then i realised all the women were waiting for the guy to change them, or more specifically, that the love he gives would change their life. that if he marries her/stops smoking/IMs her/calls her/stops wearing cargo pants, her life would start. things would be set in motion and life will change for the better. and they can all finally start living. where every woman is a hitchhicker waiting for the next car (and the next car is always the correct car) to bring her to the correct destination.

mrrpppffh.

and then comes the show everyone has been talking about. the soundtrack was pretty bizzare, like Juno meets Titanic and packaged hindi-movie style. the shots, on the other hand, were exquisitely textured. it was as though everything was shot through a lomographic lens. i thought i had seen saturation of colours on Darjeelinglimited, but this had WOOWOO angles. gorgeous.

the narrative was too trite for my liking. even if all your life’s experiences can help you answer a gameshow, at least don’t tell it chronologically! through the years the characters move geographically, the love changes somewhat, and as with all things in life, we end with a dance.

—-

i think if you really want to know about love and change, you’d have to come to my kitchen. to stare at my parents’ wedding present – our ricecooker. after 27 years, it is still working. twentyseven! it saw a wedding, a birth, a change of house, changes in jobs/schools/job-schools/schools-jobs, many duct-tape surgeries on its wires, many quibbles over ‘AIYOH WHO NEVER WASH THE COVER’ (not me!), many dinners at 730 everynight. this is what love should be. longlasting, ever-changing, yet always the same.

if life is a box of chocolates, love is the ricecooker.