15

a new internet connection right in the comfort of my own room. yay.

i found a new bargain bookstore today.  i sat down against a bookshelf near the back and wasn't asked to leave. so i ended up staying for about an hour. i left with two books, a bunch of scribbled-down quotes, and only 448 pesos less in my wallet.

i am trying to write more often now because i want to remember my life. a few days ago i began. began pensieve-ing my memories before i forget them. i used present tense to make it more vivid. and i started from where i left off some one year and three months ago. remember this?


into the pensieve:

001.
the first night of pre-shepherding. i am in my white and green striped button-down shirt. i sulk in one side of the pew, staring at the marble floor. what am i doing here. what am i doing here. everyone seems to know each other except me, but i am used to that. pews fill up a little more and what they call worship begins. what are they feeling, raising their hands and standing up? i have seen this before in Living Word but i was too young to dwell on the thought. curious, but not particularly moved.

first topic - God's love. love. a sensitive topic that shoots me rudely back into vivid memories of singapore. this night is no different. in the first activity, my co-lamb, in a bright yellow shirt and multi-colored high-cut chuck taylors comes up to me and says Hi i'm Abbey! with open arms. her arms easily find her way around me and she says, God loves you! with the most cheerful disposition i have ever seen that doesn't border on obnoxious. i am glad she is my co-lamb.

that hug triggers the tear ducts. i spend the rest of the night holding them back with all my might.

in the flock circle everyone introduces themselves saying, " (name), YE(#)." my turn comes and i say, "adi, short for adrienne, and i um i don't know what YE is."

dear book-borrower: click. (edited)

i am looking for my book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.
the last one i can remember borrowing it is paco and i know he passed it to someone else but i can't remember who. please return because it has to go into a brown cardboard box already.

and anyone else who has borrowed things, like a CD or a film or other books or jewelry or whatever... yeah. they gotta go.

packing's not fun.


edit:
another book i remember that's not with me (this list might be added to again) :
The Gospel Unplugged by Rich Wagner

14 point something

because i am getting reacquainted with momentary writing.

today i found You in my favorite author:

"So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love – loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist."


expound tomorrow / when time permits

14

commemorating the get-my-blog-groove-back movement with an impulse post typed in the post box (i usually type in notepad, up in my room or somewhere quiet, on my laptop) !

a last-minute unconsciously-drain-kathy-meeting popped up at around 5:20 this afternoon and that found me staring out the glass wall of the PBCom Tower lobby at around 7:30pm. red luminated smudges on the rained-on cement. people rushing in cars. store signs piercing darkness. people rushing on foot. i missed seeing the night bustle of a city.

i slightly regret succumbing to my cough/cold and not being able to stay out all night with izz my last night in singapore. it was supposed to be a photo spree. conversation overflow. breakfast. zoom back to condo, shower, and then to airport.

although... the conversation by the pool was priceless. don't forget the pizza and fresh orange juice (which i sadly can't afford here, too expensive for a pack of juice eurgh).

today marks exactly six weeks left.

i am not sure if i should count down or generally keep track. i felt the same way october 2005. hello again, brown cardboard boxes and stretch tape and sticky tape. i am going to make it a point to design at least one box of my things this time. i haven't touched my spray paint cans in ages...

paula was brilliant last night and gave me a link to The Awesome Then-Unknown Song (click that) at the hillsong united concert last may. there is something so powerful about this. how he reads isaiah 53 with his voice breaking.

13

august 9, 4:21pm: "but i want to see You in me too."

august 9, 11:46pm: i didn't know You would answer this fast.

12

what do you do when you see you and don't know how to explain you?
what do you do when your life "is a result of" instead of "is" ?

maybe You will tell me in london.

prone to random (understatement) bouts of shocking unfamiliarity. i am starting to notice a pattern here, because this is happening again and i am writing again and i am leaving in eight weeks.

don't let it be a pattern, please. i don't want to lose sight of You anymore. i've found You everywhere. but i want to see You in me too.

make me over.