Touchdown

Arrived on Austrian soil not 4 hours ago. 22 hours of traveling definitely takes a toll on you. Only managed to have 5 hours of sleep on the plane.

Fatigue is setting in. I already miss home and uncertainty is about to overwhelm my psychological state.

God is my only comfort. Pray for me if you are reading this.

...on second thought...

The urge to blog today left me as soon as I arrived at the typing screen.

Bye!

Gastronomy

Boredom can do wonders to a person.

Thanks to it I am inspired to try cooking again. Spaghetti Bolognese on wednesday was good. Carbonara yesterday was a near disaster. Where does one find pecorino romano cheese in Singapore anyway? My next ambition would be fried rice. That's how noob I am.

But on to REAL food.

Handburger @ Somserset 313. The patty's good at medium rare. Just above the unassuming onion rings, which were tasty with a soft center (though a little too oily), is the chilled tomato stuffed with coleslaw. Adds a tangy touch to a refreshing side. Next stop for burgers would be Burger Bench & Bar at Cineleisure Orchard. Been always curious about that place.

nEbO @ AMK Hub. That was one big sandwich. My iPod's reference for size doesn't do it justice. One half of that is about the length of my palm, and 1.5 times the width of my hand. I only finished 1/4 of a half. (That means 1/8 of the entire sandwich.)

Despite all this eating and cooking, I'm still losing weight. I wonder why...

...

Just when I thought I've had enough to think about, issues creep up to me like a lioness stalking a baby gazelle. On top of that, the state of my mind, heart, body and soul is in no shape for tomorrow's lesson.

God, I've never needed You more.

Ha

Saturday. Another one of those days to seal myself up at home and catch up on long-needed practice. But hey, I'm a free man in 5 days (technically). That means more time for consistent practice.

Popped to Death

Her eyes were closed. The silence was deafening. An occasional cold breeze of wind breaks the otherwise stale air around her. An influx of memories filled her mind. This battle might be her last. Years of training and discipline boiled down to this moment. There were many like her, but she was different. In the world of men, she was an endangered species.

She takes a deep breath. Her right arm raises up, preparing a decisive strike. A wrong move could be the end of her. 'Strike and follow through.' she thought. She had rehearsed this in her mind countless times. Now, she has to act on it.

She strikes. It didn't take a blink of an eye before her right hand landed. Her deceptively harmless weapon met a metal surface. 'Now follow through'. She relaxes, not making the mistake of letting the situation get the best of her. The weight of her arm was sufficient. She pulls. 'Balance of weight and speed is key'. Too fast and she would have slipped, exposing herself to elements of counter-attack from any, or all of her enemies around her. Too slow, and she would have just ground herself to her doom.

Success. The metal surface vibrated with such ferocity, the energy had only one way to go. Down. The shockwave travelled rapidly, down in the grains of the wooden pillars, through into the hollow tree, piercing right into a metal pin embedded to the ground. The earth shook. Nobody would have thought that such power could have come out from such a person as her.

Elgar would have been proud.

Believe it or not, this post took me 3 days to complete. I just don't have the time anymore, not even to practice my instrument during the day. Pardon my bad command of english in regards to the pseudo-novel above. --> (Think Nodame Cantabile + Cooking Master Boy + Samurai X) The possibilities amuse me.

I have so much more to write, but it's already 1 minute to midnight. I guess therapy will have to wait another day/night.

Kit-Kat

It is pretty amazing as I looked back at my life in church. Being raised up in a traditional setting of a Presbyterian church, then moving on to the day when my cousin brought me to a rather different church. The very first day I attended his church was nothing short of an in-your-face miracle. I was 13 then.

I consider myself blessed and very fortunate to be in the group I am in now. It wasn't the same in the past, when I was mixing with people who do not understand the circumstances surrounding me. We were all innocent and ignorant of so many things going on. We did what we thought and knew was right, but our eyes still weren't fully opened. It came with age and experience. As I grew up and looked back, it amazes me at how God has worked in my life over the years. I've always thought I could only have friends who are musicians, or at least understand what music is all about. It seemed to me that musicians can only fully relate their thinking and be understood by a fellow musician. I looked at my family and can't help drawing the link to that fact. All the musicians in my family married another musician, or somebody who works in the music scene. A couple in my current group consists of a trombonist and flautist.

Maybe there's a need to be understood. Maybe it's easier to relate to somebody who is in the same field of work as you. (What about lawyers?) Maybe it's the fact that your other half has to understand why you have to spend 3 hours alone in a room tearing your heart out with your other other half? Maybe it's so that he/she can understand why you can't go out on a date because you need to practice. (But seriously, get a life.)

This disconnection with the rest of the world (non-musicians) was detrimental to my social and spiritual well-being in church for a couple of years. Until I attended this group. It is... different. I figured, the problem might have been me all along.

But that's a another story for another day.

Taking a day off from practicing last Friday was probably the best decision I made in the past week. Practicing til the cows come home was taking its toll on my hands and sanity. I figured, if it's not getting better by practicing a whole lot more, might as well take a step back and think things through. I got back on Saturday and the feeling was great. My thumb doesn't hurt anymore, I was relaxed, and the sense of positivity was back. Maybe the fact that I was back home helped a bit. Spending 3 nights out of 4 in camp is depressing. Going out for dinner once in a while is a good change of pace, but otherwise, it's boring. So, if things are looking grim during practice, and you feel that things are not improving the harder you try, take a deep breath and a step back, because a break might be all you need. (No, kit-kat is not endorsing this.)

Peace?

Fishing.

It is amazing how three men in civil defence uniforms could spend one hour in the regimental cookhouse talking about it. It's a wonder how much we can relate to it.

Having to cancel tomorrow's lesson with my teacher was.. disheartening. Having not improved to the extent I wished I have is not something I can live with. It seems that I always reach the LDMR (Law of Diminishing Marginal Returns) too soon for my practice sessions, and my down time after each practice session seems to be longer than what I deem healthy. Teacher has always emphasized on the importance of practicing intelligently. It must be due to my impatience when it comes down to solving problems. It must be something in the deep recesses of my sub-consciousness which leads me to think that there is always not enough time at the rate I do things. This isn't unjustified though. My days in this little island are numbered. At least if everything falls into plan.

I have been spending more time than usual praying and seeking about current events. With the progress I am making on my instrument, I can only trust in God at this point. There isn't much else I can do but my best, and leaving the rest to Him.

Hello

pandas are lethal. They tempt you with their cute biscuit prints with a chocolatey center. As you swallow the deceptively harmless creatures, they attack you from the inside, going straight to your hips and thighs, refusing to relent to your efforts of flushing them out with regular exercise and healthy diet.

Music.

Where do I begin?

How would you define it? A combination of sounds, rhythms and silences? A plethora of vibrations set into a stream of systematic motion? As a noun described as 'an art of sound in time that expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms through the elements of rhythm, melody, harmony, and colour' in dictionary.com? Or something that just sounds good? It's funny when you think about it. Because if that's the case, you can't really draw the fine line between music and noise. Noise, if you think hard enough, could also be defined the same way. Like Berlioz's critics first thought when he wrote his Symphonie Fantastique. Like an amateur cellist who couldn't play Haydn's concerto in C in tune.

It really isn't about playing the right notes in tune with impeccable technique or singing out a phrase with a profound sense of musicality. True music is done inside the heart of the performer. When the audience see where you are going at. When they have understood your intentions enough. Can music be called music if the performer's heart laid bare before the world turns out to be as black as a rotting concoction of human waste and cow's manure? It doesn't matter if the acoustic of the hall is horrible, or that your scores flew away like the feather in Forrest Gump, because at the end of the day, it is what happens inside that matters, and sometimes, elements of rhythm, melody, harmony and colour just don't cut it. That and of course lots of practice.

Having said that, practice today was.. much less than desirable. My playing seems to be taking the route of being temperamental. It's good on even days, bad on odd days. But if that's really the case, I should be rejoicing since I'm having lesson tomorrow.

Just my two cents before my brain implodes in heavy thoughts tonight.

Conviction

Who reads these anyway?

Sermon was convicting and despite predictable pointers you might expect from a topic like that, you never fail to learn something new. It's probably God's way of convicting you of your sins and having His word implanted into your heart.

Two more months before becoming a full time citizen. Plans are being made but actions remain stagnant. It's still too early to do anything about it anyway. Procrastination? Hope not. Progress with Desdemona remains conspicuous. Guess I will find out on Thursday. While I'm happy with the overhauling of my vibrato, other techniques are having a relatively bleaker outlook. Intonation forever remains a problem. Thumb position never fails to hurt. Patience runs thin, but that's the only thing we can hold on to at times like these.

Airline hasn't contacted me since, and I don't expect they ever will. Well, no harm trying.

If last night's dream was limbo, I would have almost gladly stayed. It's funny/disturbing how a dream like that can affect you for the next entire day. Depressing, but it happens. A sign? I wish upon a star. It's probably just a rush of emotions and biological compounds all thrown in together into one volatile mix of... delusional thinking?

But then again, who reads these anyway?

Revival

What can be better than to worship God with His house and being ministered by Him? By the time i realised it, we have been standing for 3 hours. The conference was a true blessing.

Sometimes, or rather most of the time, your relationship with God is a decision on your part, and the things you do every day reflects certain aspects of your convictions.

Well, on to something lighter. The song that my friend and I wrote were shortlisted into the top 3 list out of 23 songs submitted for the competition. Given the fact that we were confined in a small space of a 2m by 1m room with no air-conditioning or ventilation for 7 hours, stopping only for lunch consisting of pastamania delivery, I guess we did pretty ok. While I am not considering song-writing as a career, I think I might enjoy writing a song or two once in a while. (Like every six months?)

Then again, we did it with the purpose of growing the Lord's kingdom. It was only then that I realised it was all worthwhile. So don't expect tragic operas, majestic symphonies or virtuosic concertos from me. I'm writing contemporary music, much to the dismayed (but currently unknown) reputation of my family.

Recovery

"A professional is not determined by them playing flawlessly, but by recovering whenever making a mistake."

Reminiscence of a chinese orchestra session in my secondary school days. If that dictates professionalism, I have failed miserably for tonight's performance.

Hiatus

So the long hiatus is over. I am back. Again.

After just over a year since my last post, why did I decide to make a comeback? It's probably one's need to be heard or to be felt. Maybe writing (or typing for that matter) is a form of subconscious therapy, to pour out one's thoughts before actually resulting in self-implosion. Maybe it is to share the goodness or spread the evil to their readers. Or rather, maybe it is just another manifestation of somebody's attempt to grab attention.

Should I participate in a songwriting contest? Ideas are flowing in my head like the Niagara Falls dumping people hiding in barrels. I couldn't help but reminiscence about the very first song I wrote over a year ago. The words of cheesiness never fail to make me cringe like a hamster in hibernation. People actually said it was not bad. Maybe in-depth reviewing and re-writing is needed.

I noticed parents (namely my brother and sis-in-law) are prone to repeating verbs twice in a sentence when baby-talking to their kid. Example: 'Come sit sit on the carpet here.' or 'Ask xiao shu shu (small uncle aka me) to play play cars with you!'. It also occurred to me that I'm a passive baby-pleaser. I wait for them to come to me rather than putting myself in a vulnerable position of being rejected by a 2 year old.

My weak heart would not have been able to handle that.