That being said, have some (oversaturated) pictures of people:

Everything was taken using Vignette, which is sort of like Instagram for Android, I guess. Top to bottom–1. Ate Jacky at Moonleaf (she had their peppermint milk tea. I ordered Yoghurt, which is basically a large serving of Yakult.)  2. Franz, at Box ‘O Rice (picture snapped by Ate Jacky) and 3. Geo at Casaa, eating her lunch (yes, that small jar) of spinach and potatoes. Mrmm.

A thunderclap, a line of lightning. What am I doing here? Her eyes traveled over the contour of the land, tracing a line from earth to sky, fixing themselves on the stars. What did she expect to see, or hear? A deep voice from the heavens?

Who are you? Show yourself. The words were dry in her mouth, but whole in her mind, and a vein of fear came alive somewhere inside her. She didn’t expect that fear would feel like fire. It burned, white-hot through her body, but she could not close her eyes. The orange clouds began to move, slowly at first, until they seemed to rush over like a river.

You. She was on her knees when it happened, eyes staring at her dirtied knees and the surface of the grassy hill while her hair hung around her face. A bright light came, filling up the darkness, seeming to consume and conquer everything around her, stretching out for miles and miles. It was unbearably bright, and at the last moment she reached up to cover her face with her hands–

Suddenly, everything was warm.

/Fifteen minute writing exercise

I am in one, and it’s lasted longer than usual. I’m not the type who can’t live without it–MUSIC IZ MY LYF–no, no. But I miss finding shiny new gems of song, I miss floating through the day on a single melody. The siblings make up for the background noise, however. It’s been snatches of  Stereo Hearts and Oh Land and Ellie Goulding. I was telling Jessica about the evolution of Abigail’s musical taste–how I’d “raised” her (influenced her, rather) to match my own indie-pop/electronica/non-mainstream preferences, only to have her veer away into Katy Perry, Usher, Taylor Swift, etc. I don’t mind at all, really. It’s just surprising that Pat’s the one picking up on the doe-eyed floaty-voiced female vocalists (Oh Land and Ellie, and Florence) despite having rued my music in general (she found a lot of it weird–I have Laura Veirs to blame for that).

I am perfectly content with waiting for the fruit to fall, though.

The scholarly life

Has been enjoyable to a degree, has been driving me mad, but still, it is an enjoyable drive. One class has turned me into this grade-conscious creature, but only because I know I can ace it, but fall short somewhere, somehow. Let’s see.

As expected, some classes capture my full attention, others don’t, although I am blessed with incredibly considerate and loving teachers for the latter sort. Forever grateful. If anything, the Anglo-Am survey courses serve to quicken the mind and raise the blood pressure levels: both classes are highly entertaining, surprise graded recitation and excessive moodswings provide a dose of unwanted drama and classroom strife from time to time.

Writing classes are fairly productive, although cramming has proven itself to be a hardy habit. Still, I feel I’ve had enough drive in me to carry on through the semester with pretty good results so far. The Lev Lochan story is an uncertain creature, although thankfully non-corrosive. The yet-to-be-written Two Bowls story remains a germ, but we’ll see where the next few days take it, idea-wise.

Idle moments and strolling through glass

I have at least two books to read at the moment: one is for class, called The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst, and the other is the third volume in A Song of Ice and Fire, A Storm of Swords. I’ve barely started Hollinghurst’s, but I’ve been on a three-week ASoIaF streak, with one book a week. Tomorrow is the one week mark for Storm of Swords, and I’m only halfway through. This, and the continuing search for Batgirl #1 and fairly decent food is what preoccupies me.

And writing, of course. I killed the excitement-wave for the McDo vs. Jollibee stories, but maybe I’ll take them up again sometime soon. Too many characters are in it, the novelty’s worn off, at least for me.

Things that are awesome

Food-wise, it is Lord Stow’s iced tea, Sonja’s cupcakes and still the tre formaggi from Friuli. Of course, there is mint Kitkat, raspberry ice cream from SC’s own version of Fruits in Ice Cream, and isaw from Mang Larry’s.

People-wise, they are my classmates. From barely-met people, they’ve grown into friends with secret sniggers and jabs. They ask opinions, share snippets, complain, walk, text, talk. They laugh, most of all, about a lot of things: nicknames, all things phallic, all things gay, awkwardness, teachers, other classmates and the noises that happen while a lecture goes on. They fangirl with you about Game of Thrones and try to loop you into Doctor Who, they offer to cover your books in plastic and hang out after class, even if it is raining.

So far, I feel I am in a good place. I am thankful.

And then, a useful and informative guide about the RIGHT way to behave and dine at a sushi place. It is all true.

Lastly, the much-awaited trailer for The Legend of Korra. Epic.

Lastly, a seemingly unrelated observation (because apparently, I love going out on tangents): It’s strange, how eyes are liquid. Flickering baubles of dark and deep liquid. Some eyes are warm liquid, regardless of the expression they hold.

“Many sincere believers are too introspective. They look too exclusively within, so that their hope is graduated by the degree of evidence of regeneration which they find in their own experience. This, except in rare cases, can never lead to the assurance of hope. We may examine our hearts with all the microscopic care prescribed by President Edwards in his work on The Religious Affections, and never be satisfied that we have eliminated every ground of misgiving and doubt. The grounds of assurance are not so much within, as without us.” – Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology (London, 1873), 3:107

A second chance, a blink of an

uninterested eye, goodbye sir,

Class dismissed, and now is not the time

For stares across the room,

An impending doom I clutch in my

Palms, lined with invisible sweat, drilling

Into my brain that we’ve just met, we’ve just met

A single step towards you is an ocean

Every movement like the twisting of  a nerve.

The pounding of ears and heart, the start

Of a dual state, exploded and pristine at once.

²⁴ By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. ²⁵ He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. ²⁶ He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. ²⁷ By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible. ²⁸ By faith he kept the Passover and the application of blood, so that the destroyer of the firstborn would not touch the firstborn of Israel.

—-

It is 7:30 in the morning, and I’m at school early due to coding schedules. A handful of people are sitting around in the AS Lobby. There is a broken guitar pick on the floor in front of me.

I remember this song the YF sang when they did that short Christmas concert a few years back. By faith! Jericho came down, by faith! Something something…

Today’s quiet time, courtesy of odb.org, emphasized on enduring present hardships and looking forward to a reward in heaven. Moses in particular, chose to endure the mistreatment of his people rather than bask in the glow of being the Pharoah’s daughter’s son. Calling over comfort. Christ over comfort.

I have to get myself out there.

This new bright love

Chanced upon like a shiny stone

Cradled warmly in my palm

I hold it close,  a flickering dream.

It’s utter sublimation

A feat, this heart’s control

Moment to moment

To scale all love down

To a cupped hand’s size.

- 3rd stanza

It’s about love scaled down, each object and each memory being a concentrated story-pill bursting with meaning. Sublimation. A heart’s control. The things in a life that stand out so clearly in a flood of images and events, so close and concrete that you can pick them out of the distant time-stream with your fingers.

I think of the vastness of such a thing, (and this isn’t my interpretation of the poem, exactly) the grand and all-encompassing manifestation of God’s love, and how the revelation of himself in the person of Christ is the most perfect bonsai, and yet, not: it is smaller, and  at the same time so mind-blowingly real, so wonderful and extraordinary an occurrence.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for one another.  1 John 3:16