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March 27, 2015

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speaking of which

March 22, 2015

1) landlady grandbaby tells me to say ‘seaweed’ when posing for her toy camera, and ‘cheese!’ when we’re clinking waterbottles. they used to have the generation gap, but that’s old now; it’s the generation shift, yo. it’s easier to navigate, at least.

2) i made chicken and cheese in the oven last week. it was supposed to be quirky and beautiful chicken soup with milk and lemon zest and apparently the zest would split the milk into a heavenly gravy, but i guess my lemon didn’t read the menu and decided to curdle the milk into a solid mass of cheese instead. not trying that recipe again.

3) i did make beautiful onion soup, though.

the cold notwithstanding,

March 18, 2015

i would like to live in the arctic circle for awhile

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honour him. Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.

And if You should lead me where I would rather not go, I would, still. Give me the faith to stand, let me walk through my oceans. That Easter is coming, and we remember Your death – I don’t want to die; I want to struggle on with my minimum, with this I can stumble on but if You bring me to a place where I am overwhelmed and die, what then? You say I bear much fruit then.

It’s only the deaths of little things; little dreams, little hopes, little plans. Except, I am made up of these little things and You call me to unclench my hands. You ask for all of me.

What’s hard about it is these aren’t unnecessarily bad things. No vices, no bad habits. I’d just like to see my husband every day.

I suppose there must be an art to dying. It’s okay. I’ll obey. Things will make sense one day.

today in bed

March 12, 2015

i wanted to catch a nap but had had too much tea, so fell to thinking instead.

i imagined the future home and planned for it. i imagined young children there. i imagined john coming home and telling me enemy planes were on their way. i imagined bundling up the kids with our passports, a laptop and handphone with chargers and running to the car. i imagined calling our parents and siblings to get to the nearest underground carpark or train station, and to make sure they had water and food with them. i wanted to wait for the worst to happen at paya lebar airbase, but john said it was the first place they were likely to bomb. i nodded and we made plans for the nearest circle line station instead. meanwhile the children were watching us fearfully from the backseat. i was torn between explaining what was happening and laying out what was feasibly going to happen, and using the time we had left to tell john how much i love him.

i sat up in bed, turned over to my phone, and texted john the sum of my thoughts. he replied with ‘thinker ah you’, and an emoticon kiss. i felt comforted and sleepier. i shifted in bed and slowed my breathing.

i was in a certain part of the world, kidnapped by an extremist. i tried so many ways to get back to john. it was so hard. it was so hard to know what to do. i couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone, for fear of mistake. i hadn’t spoken, had never left the house since i was brought in. how long did i have to stay mute before they’d let down their guard, how long did i have before john gave me up for dead?

i wanted to leave this story and return to my waking world, but my mind wouldn’t let me. it compelled me to find a finish, to return home. it took more searching, but the drive behind my thoughts gradually took a gentler tone. new doorways appeared, and

‘my name is rachel. i’ve been kidnapped. i want to go home.’


March 10, 2015

– have been eating far too many pineapple tarts. at this rate, the box will be finished under a week. there was this nytimes dude who said singaporeans are among the most culinary homesick people he knows; methinks he got that right.

– have a jay chou song in my head, but not the title or any key words-so it’s his voice and my brain mangling lala ju li kai, yao zhi mei zhu ai, lalala laaa xyz meng chu lai xrepeat. which obviously won’t turn up anything remotely helpful on the internet.

– ought to be familiarising myself with mediation.