personally.

IT'S. NOT. OVER.

YOU probably have no idea what this is like. Before all this, I may have once thought I would reluctant to let it go. After it began, such a thought seemed laughable. Now...I don't even have the thought anymore.

For days and days and days I have spent every waking moment with a hundred and one worries on my mind, lists of things to do that would never end, one thing after another. I've been rushing, short-handed, afflicted with nausea, headaches, fever, bodily aches, hurting toes and heels, etc.
I'm still afflicted with awful nausea that makes me feel like a bulimic and I'm still short-handed and rushing and lacking in communication. I'm sick and I'm tired and really, all I want right now is to find the right medicine to stop me from throwing up all my meals like some depressed teenage girl with eating disorders.
And even through all this gastronomical turmoil, I have at least three people yelling at me to get things done because we don't have time. I've had to run back and forth across an NS camp site to do a hundred and one things for a hundred and one reasons, least of all to take a bath.
And now, you'd think that back home it'd be all over. But it's not.
IT'S. ANYTHING. BUT. OVER.

But you know what? It cannot be denied that, at the end of the day, no matter how skeptical I was, God's glory was revealed. :) And that, I believe, is worth anything.
Regardless of who we were, what we did, where we went wrong, what we thought, how we felt, He made Himself known to over 200 people throughout those four days. It's not about me. It's not about the team. It's not even about those 180 people we've slaved away for. No.
It's all about HIM.

#3 of 06-12-2010

Two years ago, at this time: you were infatuated with me. You and five other guys.

One year ago, at this time: I was infatuated with you. Me and five other girls.

This year, at this time: we're infatuated with each other.
And the five other guys and five other girls decided to be infatuated with each other too?!

JUST KIDDING. :)

Now you're not infatuated with me and I'm not infatuated with you and we're happy. :)

Because there are better people for us to be infatuated with who are infatuated with us too.

Fear not. I still love you. ♥

I just kinda feel like:


;)

it's so complicated, it must be.

Sometimes I don't understand him.

Sometimes he doesn't seem to make any sense. He can just be so illogical. And impractical. I wonder how anybody's brain could function that way. Discovering his brain does only serves to irritate the heck out of me. He annoys me. Sometimes I really wish he wouldn't feel or think in such a childish manner. I then try explaining it to him, which doesn't work. Sometimes I think I can only scream and shout to get him to move. It pisses me off when he doesn't understand my furious glares or the tone of my voice. Sometimes he's smarter than me and it really puts me down. Sometimes he does really stupid things. Sometimes I give him jobs because I want him to grow up and take them but he seems to mess up so much.

And most of the time, he just doesn't understand me.

But I do understand him.

I try to understand his actions and his way of thinking. Sometimes it's better than mine. And it usually save me a lot of work. I find that the way he functions is such a rare and precious thing I wouldn't trade it so he could think a bit more like me. Sometimes I find his childish ways relieving. It becomes so...addictive. Sometimes he adds a fresh perspective to my explanations, which makes me think again. Once in a while, he understands my screams, shouts and furious glares and he apologizes. Sometimes he even knows just how to make me alright. He doesn't know that he knows so well, but I think his subconcious or something does. Sometimes I just enjoy listen to him. Because at times, he really makes so much more sense than I do. Sometimes he gives me these odd smiles and even though I feel awful, I return them and feel better immediately. Sometimes he doesn't and it awfully worries me. Then I attempt to cheer him up. Sometimes it doesn't work and I end up joining him in depression. But it's okay because it feels better to be down with him instead of watching him be down alone. Sometimes it works and I feel like I've just cheered myself up. Sometimes he does really stupid things I wish he wouldn't because I don't want to see him get hurt. It hurts to stop him from doing those stupid things even though if I were in his place I would go ahead and do it. Sometimes...I do things for him that I know I shouldn't be doing but that I can't bear to let him worry about. After all, if he messes up, it'll only force me to tick him off. And I don't want to do that. I think he knows.

Sometimes he really gets me.

Whatever it is, I always seem to find him so beautiful. So perfectly imperfect. And I know whatever, I wouldn't change him a bit. I'm not sure if I'll ever really know if I have the courage to take a bullet for him, but imagining a gun pointing at his head, I'd say yes. Because?

I think it's because I love him.

And considering how I feel exactly the same way about all of them, I deem it safe to say:

I love all of them too.

No matter how much they piss me off, I would never, ever turn my back on them.

♥

staying up, staying alive.

May the Lord bless this social networking site called Facebook, as distracting and unproductive as it may (sometimes) seem. Because really, it has become a (pretty unsung) hero of the administration team.
Some people just don't ever answer their phones, it seems. And for some reason, I have those not-answering-phone people listed as my 'friends' on Facebook.
Besides that, we also need more food, an extra bus aaand...a laminating machine. Oh, and more boards and paper and sisscors and another funky long-rectangular-hole punching thingamajig.

YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT'S FUNKY?
The grey buckled wedges I saw at One Utama today.

Sort of like that but chunkier, funkier, and hotter on my size 36 feet. (I apparently have very small feet.)
But I didn't get them. Instead I got a sweet pair of cream coloured wedges. Oh well.
I'LL BE BACK, FUNKY SHOES.

In the mean time, I have decided I greatly require one of these, especially after seeig my poor unravelled cane today.

Having just gone for confession, I've decided to hold back my swear words.

But hey, even the archbishop says it's okay to get pissed off sometimes.

photo perfect.

I've decided I kind of like having pictures on my blog. So here:

v.s.

Me. Pretty much every two a.m. v.s. what I wish was me pretty much every two p.m.

But I think I'm fine with just being me, a panda-eyed, headached workaholic every two a.m. instead of a lazy, forever hungry slob every two p.m.

*yawns*

Finally got half a day off. To...a correctly scheduled dinner!

Wait, wrong picture.

From the game, Hungry Hippos. ;)

Cuteness; I want.

(Even though I actually have no idea what this game is about.)

About a friend.

The best part is when I find out that she's taken care of everything I've been worrying about.
She's a monster and that's why I love her! :)

It's got a big mouth too. ;) 

5 reasons why I think this whole idea is SUPERFLUOS.

NOT even if we fixed little crucifixes and Mother Mary statues all over the hall.
I STILL DO NOT AGREE.
And if you want to try making me change my mind, bless you because I will NOT. Here is why:

1. Money
You cannot say that it’s going to cost us next to nothing because it’s not. Party stuff isn’t cheap. So we are definitely going to be spending money, unless you want to pluck a few thousand leaves from around the campsite and put them all up in some crazily fanciful manner. Then it’d be free and money would not be the issue here.

2. Time
Exactly how long is it going to take to put stuff up? Well, however long it is, the time could be far better spent relieving the burdens of the poor admin or logistics people. And believe me; we will not be short of burdens to dispose upon free shoulders. And deco, of course, would technically require relatively tall people which, might I remind you, are usually the ones putting up speaker stands and projector screens, thank you very much. And between food and sleep, their job is never done. Also because such people are usually the ones who can drive. And what about the other responsibilities of the people involved? Who’s going to take care of that?

3. Effort
So okay, say we had enough time. You still have to consider the amount of energy this is going to take. And as the assistant of house deco, let me tell you that it is about a million times harder than it sounds. Don’t be fooled by the simplicity of the idea. Hanging one palm leaf could leaf you sweating and panting for water! Okay, so maybe not one, but three, at least. Five, if you hang it slap-dash and in a totally unnoticeable and redundant place. These people need to last five days running around and being as energetic and enthusiastic as possible. We cannot have them die even before all the excitement starts.

4. Quantity and quality
So, exactly how much do we have to put together to make it work? A LOT. And how can we assure that, within the span of one day, with all their other commitments, the team is going to do it with quality as well as quantity? Let’s be real here, okay.

5. Purpose
Ah, we have finally reached this point, the point where we ask why we’re doing all of this anyway. Why are we? Is it somehow going to glorify God in any way? Is it going to make people more welcome to His presence? Is this a sign of great praise and worship to our Almighty Father? Or maybe we could go with smaller reasons. Is this going to help us reach out to other people? Is seeing balloons and streamers going to make someone’s experience greater? Is that even what we want them to think is the greatest thing ever? Are they immediately going to have the time of their lives because of it all? I can tell you we definitely won’t. And finally, brutal as it may be, are people going to even care? Because heck with it, I sure will not. So, you tell me why we’re even going to the trouble.

It brings my blood to a boil. But the archbishop says it’s okay to get mad, even at God. Even after I have gone for confession.