Love is in the Air

Last Sunday, my sister who happens to be an avid reader of my blog came into my room and told me that I should put in more feelings into my blog. She's bored reading the crap I write every now and then.

Be a little bit EMO if i can!!

In short, touch a little on your feminine side. (Careful not to touch too much though or you might just turn gay.)

I told her I will try my best. So here's as EMO as i can get! Here it goes..

While using my computer last Sunday, two little birds came and visited me.

Mr Gin's Project 365, Day 116, 26/04/2009

And this wasn't actually the first time. These two birds have visited me many times before in the past, in a pair just like this.



I thought for awhile and wondered why these two birds keep visiting me like that. These two birds could actually be telling me something when suddenly....

EMOTIONALLY!! I felt....



LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!CAN YOU FEEL IT!!CAN YOU FEEL IT!!


ok i'm done with emo. I know i suck at it!!

Going Home.

So I've talked about this wilderness period I've been in.

As I questioned God about this strange thing called a "calling" which pulses restlessly with me, I felt as if I were walking in a desert, no longer being sure anymore of what I used to be certain of: When I was younger, I wanted to be an environmentalist/humanitarian; when God became my friend and I entered medical school, the dream then took a natural progression- I wanted to be a medical missionary. But then I came to a point where I wasn't sure- what if God's idea is different from mine? What good is any of this artistic talent anyway?

Perhaps, a calling is nothing more than a heartcry, a song of long-ago, a pilgrimage to a place called home, where one's gifts can truly be unravelled, where one feels most free to be oneself. But as we walk along the long road of life, most of us find it easier to walk along trodden paths, towards cities of great renown. What everyone wants always seems most delectable, other people's gifts always seem more worthy than ours.


I didn't realise how long I had been walking in the wilderness away from home, chasing winds, running to cities far far away. Cities chased by people all over. All this time I had been banging on doors asking God what His calling for me was, not realising He couldn't answer because Home was so far away. He was at home waiting for me.

Today, in my White Place, tears streamed down my cheeks as I asked God what His purpose for my life was. In this transition phase to becoming an adult, I find it pertinent to allow God to sharpen me, to prune away whatever which may distract me from His purpose. He made each of us unique, with special talents and giftings which we are to steward preciously to serve the world around us. Have I been using them to help, to serve, to love?


Sometimes, to realise our Purpose, we need to release old things in order to get hold of what is Real. To pursue the true path, we need to abandon the old one. For new shoots to grow, we need to prune away old branches. This process can be painful.


And all at once I understood why it hurt so much when I felt God telling me to stop pursuing my sporting interests competitively. It hurt because I enjoyed it, but it hurt me more to know it distracted me from the uniquely distinct gifts He had asked me to steward and to use. Gifts of painting, writing, connecting with people and using my time and artistic talents to serve them instead of myself. In the years of wilderness where I ran away, into illness and pride, God could not use me. I was too busy running, literally. And as the illness took away my mind, body and soul, sapping my concentration, demeaning my self-worth, it convinced me that other people's gifts were always better, that elsewhere was better than Home.

After all, what use is art anyway, and who was I to think I had heard this call to serve the needy? Silly girl. And unconsicously, I dismissed all that God had done in Nepal through the artistic gift He placed in the hand of a silly amateur painter of little faith.


But I am learning, a calling is sometimes not moving forward, but going back. Back home.



Today is the day I was supposed to be at the duathlon cycling and running. But I wasn't there. Because I have been discouraged, I also very nearly wanted to stop this writing and painting. Why am I only good at something so... frivolous? Today at church, I cried because as we sang, I asked God about His calling for me, why it was that I no longer felt inspired to write nor paint anymore, and whether it was my own silly desire to want to be involved in medical missions or His.

So you can imagine my utter shock and disbelief when the guest speaker's wife (who doesn't know me at all) came up to pray for me at the end of the service - "for a restoration of creativity. Young lady, God has given you gifts of imagination which you often suspect may not be from Him but they are, and He is going to use you in a very exciting journey. He has given you a gift of creativity, and He has a specific calling for your life... "

Coincidence? Maybe. It hasn't been the first time God sprung up on me like that. Of all things to pray for me. People hardly ever pray so specifically. And of all days. Had I wilfully gone to run and cycle instead, I would have missed that timely prayer and message. Sometimes I find it very hard not to believe that God is right there listening to me.

I am learning, to stop walking to places other people are racing to get to, that each of us are made unique for a unique purpose, that each of our callings and Homes are distinct. And so what God asks us to give up or pursue are also different. So many people have been asking me why I have stopped training and giving me the occassional disdainful look; so many girls dye and straighten their hair and chase latest fads to pursue magazine perfection; so many people are so much smarter than me at the hospital. But I will not be sorry for enjoying sports as leisure, having more time to learn how to serve other people; I am blatantly unapologetic for my rebellious tresses and I am happy to confess any day that I may not be the brightest but I do try. My home is not the same as theirs, my calling distinct and my lot simply different.

God has a specific plan for each of us, and He created us in a specifically unique way to fulfill that Purpose which He has for us.


So I'm laying these things down, these things which are distracting me from responsible stewardship. I realise, that in the past few weeks, I have managed to tear down the old altar to build a new one, one pleasing to God.

I am going back Home, out of this scorching desert, because these other paths lead to nowhere. I am going back to a place of music and portraiture, of song and dancing, and of writing and using these media to touch the lives of people, to tell them a story that brings them closer to the heart of God, to make a difference. I am going back to my room where there was a familiar song hummed by a little girl about helping the very poor and needy... and I'm not going to be sorry for it anymore.

To the world, it would seem like I am moving backwards. But there is nothing but an incandescent joy, bubbling and spilling over in freedom and laughter. I am destroying old altars, rebuilding new ones, and going to a place where I can truly be myself and thank God for the exact way He has made me, with absentmindedness and dreaminess included. When we are where we are supposed to be, we will never feel lesser.

For there is nothing better than obeying the Father's voice, listening to your heartbeat against His. God never shortchanges us when we let go what we are meant to, to finally have arms free to embrace His Real gifts.



As they say, there's nothing better than going Home.

"What is more, I continue to consider all these things as a loss for the sake of

what is far more valuable, knowing God.

It is because of him that I have experienced the loss of all those things.

Indeed, I consider them rubbish

in order to gain Him... "

- Phil 3:8

Building Wash vs Window Wash

For a long time until yesterday, I always thought that washing windows for buildings was an unimaginable task.

I was looking at Tiam's blog the other day,


and I thought its one of the most craziest and scariest things to do to be hanged from a building on the outside to wipe hundreds of windows with a piece of cloth, hundreds of feet above the ground, all alone, and probably no girlfriend or attachment in general. You know..this are the people you won't even know if he falls down.

I felt its the worst job in maintaining a building all this while, notttt until what I saw yesterday which may seem not too bad after all.

I mean if you were to look at an average tall building, you could possibly count how many windows that the cleaner would have to wash before his done for the day.


Lets exclude twin towers for the time being. Lets forget that there are people who'd have to clean the windows of the twin towers!!


But yesterday, while I was at Inti College in Subang,


I came across this.







THEY HAD TO WASH THE ENTIRE BUILDING WITH A PIECE OF CLOTH!

Mr Gin's Project 365 Begins

Today is a start of Mr Gin's project 365 that I've been wanting to do after seeing so many other people do it which seems pretty interesting to me.

For those of you who don't know. Here's a small definition.

What is a Project 365? It involves me taking (at least) one picture every day for the next one year and posting it to my blog to share what I experience and go through during the day.

Are there benefits? Well actually I hope this will inspire me to keep on updating my blog regularly from now on.

Anyway since, this is a start, and that the many days before today is pretty much secretly stored inside my head, i'm going to start this project at day...umm lets see...

(JAN)31 + (FEB)28 + (MARCH)31 +(APRIL)25 = 115

So here we go. This was what I pretty much did yesterday. Was at one-utama in the morning on Saturday. Saw part of a catwalk.

Gin's Project 365, Day 115, 25/4/09

From there, I went to Subang later where i had lunch at Asia Cafe.



Ummm, whats left of my duck rice?


Then I went to Inti College, before going back to Penang.


There you go guys. PROJECT 365 initiated.

Impressing a woman with Vincci Shoe

Just awhile ago, I was reading Mabel's blog regarding her truth about impressing men and women.

It goes like this.

How to impress a woman:

Compliment her, cuddle her, kiss her, caress her, listen to her, buy her gifts, protect her, wine and dine her, surprise her, support her, respect her, stand by her, hug her, go to the ends of the earth for her.

How to impress a man:

Arrive naked....with beer.

Now I don't know what she does during her free-time writing all this, but there happens to be some truth there.

If I were to see a girl lying on my bed that looks like this, I suppose it wouldn't take much to umm "impress" me.


Nothing else can buy the experience I could get.

Not even an ipod.

Not even a Bentley.



Even if she could buy me a Bentley. I would say. HELL WITH THE BENTLEY!! I am willing to settle with a bicycle forever.

All I want is an impression that would last forever in my mind.

Sadly, impressing a man rarely comes before impressing a woman.

Trying to take the advice or wait...the truth from Mabel seriously, I decided that I will start with buying her gifts. OKla, a gift first la ok. You'd never know how'd seriously bad you might get rejected.

So, just awhile ago at one-utama, as creative as I can be to impress a woman, I went to Vincci.



That's right. The famous shop that sells girl shoes.

I was looking for a girls shoe. (Obviously!!!)



Not just any shoe.

Model number SF-0881 and its black in colour. 5 1/2 size. (You may see it, as some effort and research has been put into impressing a woman)

Hmm...ummm...(have not seen it yet) i think it looks like this...



Now...I don't know about you or many guys out there, but this may come as some what odd to my daily life.

I have never done such things before.

I have never bought a girls shoe before.

I mean hell, I don't even buy myself a shoe at the first place.

Sadly, I've gone all this way out only to find that, i'm buying this shoe for a friend who is trying to impress his girl.

Sigh....What the hell am I staying back in KL for. I'm going to back to Penang now. Where the grass is green and the girls do not require gifts to be pampered with. All they need is compliments.

At least that's what I think..ummm.....

What do you think girls?Success for my friend to come?

A Good Death.

When I heard the news over the phone, I thought it came too soon. The doctors said you had 3 to 6 more months.

We were only at 2, and you were going so strong, smiling and laughing always whenever we saw you. We agreed you'd come to my graduation ceremony in 2 years time (and joked that we couldn't agree about my wedding because realistically it may be toooo far away) because I think a part of me wanted to believe you would outlive the cancer. That somehow your laughter and strength and dignity in those few months would put the cancer to shame and make it go away.

But it didn't.

After your stay at our home and the interminably long stay at the hospital, they sent you back to your hometown across the border in an ambulance because the plane couldn't take you. I told myself I'd go to visit you in June on my next break. We agreed you'd listen to me play the flute when I was better at it. We agreed you'd show me around your new home. We agreed you would come for my convocation.

Then I got the news and they told me you left. In a coma. They said there was no pain, just a lot of screaming and crying and trying to wake you up. Four twenty-six pm. That's what they said. I got a phonecall over supper in the foodcourt at hospital and that's what they said. Four twenty-six.

The day you left, I was in the emergency department watching people die of heart attacks etc. I told myself I wouldn't choose emergency medicine as a field of choice because I don't like seeing people die that way, sprawled on a table, blue from failed resusitation attempts, suddenly. People who should have been left to leave the world in peace being pushed into the resusitation room, having their shirts ripped off and breasts hanging out and chests zapped with electricity only to die anyway. I like medicine, but I find myself needing time-outs ever so often in the emergency room.

But you died in dignity- in a way I've never seen anyone die. And that gives me comfort. You knew all about the tennis-ball sized monster pressing on your lungs and frustrating your liver, but till the very end, you still wore a smile every day, and I would watch you putting on your ear-rings and fake hair every morning when you stayed with us. You never lost hope.

Perhaps my best memories of you will always be those mornings when I had breakfast with you, reading you bits of scripture and feeding you oatmeal. The last time I saw you I was so happy feeding you and you gave me a smile I knew I would never, ever forget.

The day we found out about the monster in your liver I was doing my attachment on palliative care. We learnt what it meant to die a good death- pain-free, in a place of choice, in the warmth of familiarity, with finished business, in dignity. You died a good death.

So many people would have given up by then. But you refused to. You ate when you had no appetite, you put on those jade ear-rings when you were bedbound and even though people put you in diapers and put a urinary catheter into you, you held fast to your dignity and you wanted to walk, still. If I were in your position, I don't know if I could have done the same. We see so many patients at hospital succumb to depression. You would have none of it.

And so we flew up for the funeral and all I packed was Black. I wore a black dress with the crystal ear-rings you gave me because you always liked me in a dress. When I was asked to read your eulogy on behalf of everybody yesterday, did you know how privileged I felt? It was in mandarin. Did you hear it? We said you poured out your life for us.

People were crying during the reading but I wasn't. I was stoic because I wanted to read the eulogy properly. And so now my grief lingers on though I try to be cheerful because it's hard for other people to understand unless they've had someone ill live with them and leave. The grief comes in bits and pieces like bad snot, just before I go to bed ( how come you're not in the room next door anymore) and when I'm milling about at the hospital-because of all the complaining and murmurring I had had in my heart when I felt inconvenienced during your stay with us. I was self-centred and resentful and stupid and hadn't the maturity to understand how love overlooks inconvenience. Still, you forgave me. I'm so sorry.

I'll always remember that smile you had, and that sweet, sweet smile you had on your face when I fed you noodles the last time I ever saw you. And I'll always remember what it means to die a good death. They always tell us at medical school that patients are our best teachers- I think I finally understand now, because you taught me so much about dying well. I don't believe the cancer won. I think you did. Because you taught us so much in those last months, invited us into the depths of life to understand love, compassion, will and dignity. I'm not sure if I could have died that way. You were such a strong woman.

You chose the way you wanted to live, and because you did, you also chose the way you died. In dignity and in love.

It was a good death, not least because you fought. But at the end, you won, still.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

-Holy Sonnets by John Donne

BMW a measure of success before marrying

Last weekend, I attended a wedding at Rasa Sayang.


And when someone tells you that their wedding is held over there, You just don't come late or come in your clubbing attire hoping for it to end early so that you could be in time for night clubbing.



You make sure that you come in a nice car. Like a Bentley or anything just a little bit lower.


You make sure that you come in branded clothing like wearing an LV buckle to make sure that you are a class above the others.



You make sure that your girlfriend is perfect even if she has to go for an airbrush tanning to make sure that she has flawless skin.


Just like how other celebrity's are doing it already.


And most of all,

YOU MAKE SURE!! that you come from a civilized city and not back from the Kampung which the hotel employees are skilled enough to sniff and filter these people out as they live pretty close by the hotel.



So, after weeks and months of preparation, the big day finally came.

Note: I got to take pictures from you guys on facebook ok. Hope you guys don't mind. That is if you read my blog.

First of all, I couldn't of course drive there with my old piece of junk. I couldn't simply risk parking my car infront of the hotel that would down-grade its five-star ratings. That is first of all, if they haven't kicked me out yet.

So a nice friend of mind after hearing how much I wanted to help the planet by reducing my carbon footprint, felt that hitchin a ride would actually do some good and so picked me up from my place. A start at least to a greener planet and a good start to showing how civilized I am before I got to Rasa Sayang.

So we arrived early only to find that the cocktail has not even started yet.

As a result, with some of the girls who arrived even earlier than us, started to camwhore already.


They even came with state-of-the art cameras to make sure the event was properly recorded down into superfine quality pictures.




Not prolonging anymore, this is how the wedding looked inside.

They had a band that played country songs the whole night.


The lighting was wonderful.



The flowers were as i'm known to say "It's Beautiful"



The food was good. The drinks were good. The girls were pretty.



What else was there to ask for in such a dinner!!

So the decor was great, and they had a proper emcee and stuff and all kinds of little things that goes along the way such as this nice little gift which is now lying in my bed room with no idea what to do with it.



Now one of the things I took note during the event was the speeches made by the two best man.(I think those two guys fourth from the left in the picture below)


You see...in most weddings, some people would like to know what the wedding couple is like. Since most of the people in the room that night were closer to the bride, more people were rather curious of the english guy who married the princess.

They want to know whether he was able to support her. Was he wealthy and confident enough to go through the stormy weather when it arises throughout the relationship.

Was he cheerful enough to ensure that the princess was forever happy.

Was he rich enough to buy her an LV bag when the need arises.

In short, was he an honest, tender, loving, caring and secured man?

For many of us that night, we would never know all this since they're in UK, but for us many Chinese, the least we would like to know or hear is that the groom was doing well.

The two best man said and stressed that,

"HE RECENTLY BOUGHT A BMW FOR HIS WIFE!"


How about that for a measure of success!! I am pretty sure they'd do well!ALL THE BEST TO BOTH OF THEM!!



By the way, if any of you would like to marry, I know a guy who drives a two door BMW and his single. Definitely got the stuff to marry already.

Road Block After Clubbing in Zouk

A few days ago, my friend came down to KL with the only intention to go clubbing.

That's right. ONLY CLUBBING!


NOTHING ELSE!!!!

I REALLY MEAN IT!!NOTHING ELSE!!!!!!

Not even playing Gears of War 2 on an XBOX would excite him as much as what he would experience when the night(clubbing at zouk) comes.



Not even the thrill of a very fast car that took him down from Penang to KL in less than 2 and a half hours would provide him the excitement as well.



Not even shopping at Pavillion



and trying on very expensive suits such as PRADA that costs RM6,000 minimum was he not interested as well.



Even having a cup of coffee at Starbucks in Pavillion was not strong enough to keep him awake as he needed much rest so that he would be active and out-going in Zouk when the time comes which is of course very important when you're socialising especially if you're out hitting on girls.



Soon, night came and well, armed with his most expensive leather shoes and long sleeved striped shirt and "apple bottom jeans" and not to forget, an Armani Perfume of "I forgot what brand it was",

WE WENT TO ZOUK!



Now, I am not going to go into the details of a normal clubbing session which did not turn out the way he wanted it of what a perfect clubbing session like sitting on a chair with chicks like how Snoop Dogg would do it.


I am going to touch on what happened after clubbing which happened to be more interesting.

You see, even in a normal clubbing session, it is normally expected that you at least have a few drinks. And when i say drinks I don't mean orange juice or a cup of coke. I mean alcohol of course.


But of course, we know that people who drink Alcoholic beverages at night clubs are just a minority few. We all know that people who go to night clubs would drink plain water and pay hundred of dollars for this worlds purest water.



So, the police felt the same way and felt that they should check on this minority few and make sure that they stay away from the streets as drink and driving is not safe at all. They decided to put a road block a small distance away from Zouk only to stop a nice looking BMW which my friend was driving to test for Alcohol.


It almost seem that his BMW not only attracted women. It attracted policemen as well. Had I drove my construction-like working vehicle called Pajero, the police wouldn't have noticed me and felt that this unknown living creature in KL wouldn't be part of this minority group as his life is already tough enough and should be just drinking water.

What happens next..Well i'm going to go through this very quickly.

Breathlyser test --> Red (means on alcoholic influence)




Breathlyser test for second time --> Red (Proving on alcoholic influence)

We persist that he can drive.

They want to take him to Balai.

Driver says: Can you speak english?

Police says: Yes i can!(Continued to speak in Oxford English)

Police asks driver to seat behind.

Police takes over the wheel.

Then I told him.

Mr Gin says: Hey you tahu pandu BMW arr?

Police: Yes saya tahu, I tak ada lesen sahaja.

MrGin's Thoughts: ummm..what the hell did you just say?

Police: I tell you what, I cakap dengan You better you keluar kereta I talk to you behind.

Ok guys, I'm sure you would have figured out by now what the hell happens when the police talks to your friend (passenger) instead.

At the end of the night, Instead of going to the Balai, we were on our way back with myself driving and giving clear assurance that there would be no more road block along the way.

Aren't the police so nice!!

All I know is, had we drank water instead of Alcohol, my friend could have been better off hitting on women by taking them out for dinner which he clearly could have afforded after Zouk such as Ferengghi Garden.