north-american possums! work fatigue grouses; singaporean; ex-poet and writer; former convent girl; converted, convicted and painfully quiet; bibliophilic; skyscrapers; weather-talk; dining alone on sashimi; your life with Jesus; banging heads with problems; looking from afar; loving my xiongmao; peanuts & anchovies; battlestar galatica; novella dreams and paranoai: holding onto you.

May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
September 2007

Friday, October 01, 2004

Write to live. I nursed a throbbing headache as my friend and I discussed my church's magazine ministry called herald. She asked me my reasons for staying on in herald. My head was throbbing to the inane whining of some theatre actress cutting her chops in the blues. Perhaps what i gave was a selfish reason but i told her i've always seen writing as a part of my life where my every thought and emotion can be extended in so many different directions and given a shape and colour, a body breathing and living. That sometimes when you look back and reflect on the stuff that you wrote before, it's almost as if you were reading another person's thoughts. My writing is the "me" that I do not see. It is the "me" that i'm probably most proud of and at the same time, afraid to admit.

Writing is a tool for communication and more than just communicating information or relying facts, it's an avenue to share, to infect and influence. Writing as a vehicle for change. Writing as an active response to the things around me but sometimes, most of the times, it is a lonely endeavor.

The last few weeks have been a time of stretching upon my spiritual and emotional faculties. By the grace of God, i'm here. I'm right where i'm supposed to be. For this, I give thanks. I'll always be saying now and then, in my inapt and clumsy mannerisms, how wonderful it is to see You, wonderful walking with You, wonderful to hear You speak. You're just too marvelous for words..

posted by happyhannon at 7:45 PM