Another World

It's Wednesday night. Come this Monday, 8am, I will be propped up on a swivel chair, running my fingers over the keyboard and go about doing what I've always been doing.

But right now, at 10.30pm, I am seated on a steel bench outside of Melbourne Central, and the view before me is the State Library of Victoria. Four homeless people have passed by, asking for spare change. Now two Indonesians are joining me on the bench.

All these feels so far away from the life I know, it's weird. But a good sort of weird.

I have no business to be here (except for a short one-day work assignment), no back story or past memories to conjure, no roots planted here, and yet to be able to be here, to be able to feel its pulse, to be able to watch its people ... I'm grateful for all these.

Anyway, to the me who'll read this this coming Monday morning or the days later, always remember, there's a big world out there.

Sincerely,
Your 23-year-old self
(10.50pm, March 6, 2013, Melbourne, Australia)

P/s: The free wifi service ended before I could publish this. Below is a photo I took after blogging. Went over to the lawn at the State Library Of Victoria, laid down on the grass (it's a thing here), looked up at the sky, while munching on a bag of chips.

Be a good boy

Today, a dear colleague - formally, my immediate supervisor but informally, I regard her as my godmother - officially retired after 28 years of service.

We threw a farewell party to appreciate her contribution to the company. We discovered nuggets of little-known facts (she once collected enough leave days to go on leave for an entire year - and she did!) and shared our memorable encounters with her.

The party came and went by smoothly. But as a few of us were helping to clear away the remains of the party, we were stopped in our tracks by a devastating sight. I will always remember this picture in my mind.

Amid the flurry of activity around her (it's four something and pages are being rushed to be signed off), she is sitting alone at her nearly empty desk, weeping.

I can only imagine what could be running through her head, her heart. The years, the people, the pages, the words.

When it came time for her to leave, my boss gathered a few of us to usher her down to her car. And as we exchanged our final hugs outside her car, those tears began to well up again.

Being the last one in line, she gave me a hurried hug, fearing she would shed more tears if she delayed any longer.

As she got into her car, she muttered what would be her last words to me, as my superior, "Kenneth, be a good boy ah?"

Coward

I am a coward.

The more honest I get with who I am, the closer I am to the hope for change.

But then don't mistake me for being someone who's honest with himself either. For the absence of courage has often kept me from wanting to realise who I really am.

My cowardice dates back to a time in my youth where my daily fashion choices were limited to white short-sleeved shirts and pants the colour of mud green, both often a size too big.

High school was great, a dream even. But I can't say there weren't times I wished life would speed off a little faster, letting the fun bits last a bit longer, the not-so-fun ones a hurried blur.

I was significantly shorter, scrawnier, and funnily, fairer than the rest. I say funnily because people would pay thousands to be as fair as I was but my then snowy complexion, instead of evoking envy, garnered labels like "tofu" or "tau fu fa".

Anyway, it's clear to see I wasn't the most popular high school kid. Well maybe I am, who wouldn't take notice of a boy with striking complexion?

I digress. It started when my Form 1 class teacher held a mini general meeting to elect the class monitor. I can't remember the details but I think it went something like this.

The class nominated a few names, and I was one of them. We were asked to go out of the class while our peers voted on us.

When we finally came back in, I saw that I had won. But what transpired next was nothing close to a scene of me giving my victory speech.

The teacher decided that I somehow wasn't fit to carry the duty and afforded the position to someone else, a girl with the second highest vote who later became my best friend for the next three years.

Of course, I immediately knew why. But the coward in me is keeping me from telling this blog exactly why. That, and the fact that I don't know who could be reading this (ahem, that teacher perhaps). But if you do know me, and know me reasonably well, you'll know.

Maybe I stopped trying since that day. Maybe I didn't want to have my hopes dashed again (actually, I don't know why I got so worked up over it. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be class monitor to begin with). Maybe "Coward" showed up in that classroom that day and gave "Courage" a head-spinning slap.

I can lay blame on my past experiences and draw pity using my horrific tales, which perhaps, I have. But there is only so much I can blame others for my shortcomings.

Because what I haven't told you is that "Choice" showed up every day after.

P/s: Now that I'm really thinking about it, I'm not sure whether I won the class monitor election or not. Haha! I just remember being forfeited for a role with no valid reason, or at least, for a reason I didn't deem as valid.

1.41

It's 1.41AM and I'm sitting alone in the office. 

Kennyboy Speaks To Jinnyboy

Today, I was reminded again of why I decided to venture into journalism a year ago.

I wanted to be inspired by the stories my interviewees had to tell. Real-life stories about people overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds never cease to inspire me, no matter how many times they are told.

True enough, when I sat down with Jinnyboy today, I had the "Aha" moment that usually only happens when I'm either watching Oprah or listening to a sermon at church.

Here was an ordinary guy who had a dream he believed in so much that he would stop at nothing to achieve it. Yes, sounds like a storyline straight out of a Disney movie. No, it is.

But here was someone who actually did it! It felt so surreal to be talking to someone who went all the way, ALL the way, through all that valleys low, mountains high, challenging stuff, and found the Promised Land.

I probably didn't show it but I was so inspired by the stories he shared and and the sense of sincerity he projected while he was sharing them.

There were little nuggets of information about his upbringing (In my mind, I went, "Oh you were that kid?" ... But not in a judgmental way la) and flashes of emotions which hinted at how serious he took things (I think he was candidly sharing about how he gets frustrated at people who don't get back to him on stuff.)

Of course, the whole thing got me thinking about my own hopes and dreams. Listening to his story lit a fire in me. For a moment, the impossible felt like it was within reach. I felt alive, I felt excited to be alive, like I should be.

But sometimes, I'm gripped by a sudden surge of fear, thinking how if I don't start letting my dreams set sail, they would never leave the dock.

It's not too late now, but someday it'll be.

P/s: I found out it was his birthday during the interview. Felt bad he had to spend one hour of it talking to a stranger. :S

I called him "Mitch"

I'll admit. There are moments at work where things get very mundane. My heart doesn't skip a beat and my knees don't buckle in fear anymore when I'm told to do a story on an unfamiliar topic.

Which is a good thing, of course. I mean, I can't imagine living in fear all the time when I'm told to do something.

But every now and then, my timid heart is awakened and I can feel my timorous self walking back into the building again.

About a week or so ago, I got the chance to interview someone I look up to quite a bit. Ok, a lot.

Someone whose writings has inspired me to not just get through things, but live through them. Someone who has taught me the power of simple, honest writing. And someone I never imagined I would talk to one day.

That day came. It was a Friday. I spent the entire day worrying about whether my questions were adequate. I prepared 15 questions for a 10-minute phone interview.

At 7pm, I made the call. After a few failed attempts - I'm still learning how these international calls work - the line got through.

His voice came on the phone. I said, "Hey Mitch!" As it was a casual phone conversation, I thought it'd be inappropriate to include his last name, Albom.

Glee puts a frown on my face

I really don't think I can stand Ryan Murphy much longer.

I'm starting to think the Glee director/producer/writer/whatever he does has a case against the Christian faith.

Now I can't say I'm a pious Christian. Haven't been doing devotion for a long long time now and my attendance at Acts hasn't granted me the 'church celebrity' status yet.

With no religious high ground to stand on, I'm really just watching it and judging it like anyone else would. (okay all that religious upbringing might tip my judgement here a bit.)

But am I the only one who thinks that there is always a stroke of cynicism each time he takes the brush and paints the show's Christian element.

Quinn Fabray's President of Christ Crusader but it always ends up as some joke screenwriters can count on to lap up some laughs among the audience.

Sam Larsen, the dreadlocks guy, I thought he held some promise since Murphy said he wanted to cast the character as a positive Christian role model. Again, he becomes a laughing stock, being constantly made fun of for looking like Jesus ... literally.

On this week's episode, the end times Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye (and someone I don't remember) gets poked fun pulak.

And it wasn't just a passing statement, there was a scene where everyone who attended this Left Behind book club thing enacted the rapture, leaving their shirts and shoes on chairs and floors to scare some poor kid.

My heart cringed. The entire thing was painted to look like some extreme, religious cult thing. Urgh... I'm thinking of all the people who don't know Christ, and watches it, and agrees with Glee cos Glee made a cool joke out of it.

But I'm not laughing.








P/s: Otherwise, every other part of the episode was great - really poignant.