I need to capture this down before I forget -

"I know you have many roles to play." He looks up at me.

"You're a student, you're a SIFE leader, you're a best friend and a girlfriend, and you're also a daughter," he says, pointing to my mother's room. 

"But that's not all you are, Sarah. I don't want to always ask you to do something, I want you to want to do it - or even better? Offer. Because really, that's the mark of maturity. I get that you're busy, and doing this is adding more to your plate. But that's how you grow you see. We talk about enlarging your capacity, of extending your tents. It's not something you get every night but it's a process. Going through all this, following up on people and making an effort to engage them, it's not something you do as a means to end. 

Having said that, I don't want you to view all this as another task for you to do. This isn't supposed to like a job. Whatever you do here, or for me, I want you to have satisfaction from doing it. It's got to be something that gives you life - where you feel energized from doing it.

Who isn't tired? You tell me, when you're working - and you know I don't treat you like a youth any more - who isn't tired. And stressed and occasionally worn out, for that matter? But that's how it is, and like I said before, that's how you stretch your capacity. So that when you finally look back 2 or 5 years down the road, you can honestly say that you've increased your tents, you've grown." 

Sitting on my bedroom floor, I look at him. I'm wondering what to say in response to all that. Part of me wants to ask him how he does it - handle all the things he handles and still maintain his level of optimism and sanity. Another part wants to tell him how tired I've been/ I am. But I know what he will say, so I don't.

"Tired people change the world, right boss?"

Now he looks at me and nods. In that moment I know he understands. That I'm tired and worn out and I'm feeling the pressure. That I doubt my ability, even. He understands and he cares.

As he offers a small smile, he says "Come. Let's pray."

To another man.

This man is not so similar to the boy from the previous post. For he is forever kind, gracious and loving. Wise and eloquent. Beyond brilliant. This is for the man whose arms I ran to for comfort, to the one who fed me well and kept me strong (in more ways than one). To the man whose laughter made me laugh, to the man whose chest was the perfect place to fall asleep on. To the one who would pick me up whenever it rained, to him who made me think The Fast and The Furious was child's play because really, you should have seen him drive. To the man who bought Sunday breakfast to pamper his children and the very same one who taught me life's too short to be on a constant diet. To the one who showed me agape love, to the man who will forever have my heart,

Happy Birthday Daddy, with all my love.

To the boy I walked up the stairs of CCHMS daily with, the boy whose A Maths was worse than mine, the same one who fell asleep in class with me. To the boy who we had to teach how to smile and drag to take neoprints with. To the boy for whom I've fended pests off, to him who willingly offers to send me home every time we go back late and gives up his shoulder for me to sleep on. To the boy I've shed tears for, to the one with an awkward grin and emo hair swept across his forehead. To the boy whose half hearted hugs are no indication of his real love for me, to the boy who is slowly growing into a man...

Happy (belated) Birthday, my love. Here's to another great year ahead. (:

"Hi Daddy, how you been? It's silly to ask, I know. I probably wouldn't get an answer and if I did I think I'd freak out. So I'll just tell you how I've been ok? Even though this feels like RadioPro and doing a monologue, that's the best we can have for now. I've been pretty ok, I went to NYC last month for the intl. SIFE conference. I think you would have really liked that I'm in such an organization now. Jie's pregnant, hooray. It means mommy will be the youngest grandma I've ever known. I think its fascinating, to see jie grow bigger and frankly, I can't wait till she gets so big that I get to take all her clothes and buy her frumpy dresses from MotherCare. Haha. I know you'd have loved to see your grandkids. That's all the big news I've got recently I guess. School is ok, I get odd jobs now and then... and mommy is good. She's got more of a social life than I have. Then again, that isn't very difficult to achieve judging from how busy I am.

Your birthday is coming up, do you remember? It's in exactly a week and I wish I could celebrate it for you. You'd be 52 going on 45. We'd celebrate birthdays together and share Aunty Sandra's awesome cake. I'd get you some clothes from Nautica or some silly redundant thing. Jie would make you a card that was shared by all three of us and we'd have a superb dinner all together as a family.

I wish you were here, dad. Because honestly? I'm not ok. In fact I'm wayyyyy past 'not ok'. I don't even know what is past really not ok, but I'm probably a couple miles past that too.

I get the whole "Come to me, all you who are weary and I will give you rest" thing, and I get the whole father to the fatherless promise, and I get the whole He doesn't give us what we cannot bear idea but really, I don't think its working. Because all I'm feeling is grief, and as silly as this sounds, I feel fatherless. I don't even know what that means. To feel fatherless, that is. How can one feel fatherless? I can know it for a fact, but it's so incredibly stupid to FEEL it, right? I don't even know what I'm typing anymore but I figure just making my fingers move helps with the pain.

I feel fatherless, and I feel stuck while everything is moving. Everything is moving on and people get married and mom is going to be a grandma which mean I'll be an aunty and school is busy and I have a boyfriend and SIFE is insane this year and Bern wants me helping out in church more but I'm stuck in between the past and the present. Do I even make sense now? It's like my head wants to move on, really it does, my head wants to do more SIFE shit and chock up a brilliant resume and move on. But the heart, the heart is stuck, daddy. It's stuck to the moment you left and it still hurts so much I don't even think I'm normal to be grieving so long. So I'm stuck in two places, just like some stupid wizard who doesn't know how to apparate properly from Harry Potter. Because I miss you so incredibly much, I miss everything you did and everything about you.

I really miss your smell, daddy. The one I used to take a huge whiff of whenever you gave me a big hug. I can't remember it, but that's what I miss most now. Your smell. I can't remember alot of things, and sometimes I think I'm stuck because I choose to be. I'm stuck because I'm afraid of what will happen if I move on and what it will mean if I no longer feel sad when I think about not having you around.

I know you wouldn't like that about me. Think you'd call me a little chicken for being so afraid. You'd give me that look of yours and open your arms as you'd ask "Scared for what?" But I am, so for now, I am content with remembering you through the pain. I remember you in my grief, and I really wish you could be around.

Anyway, Happy Birthday in advance ok? The world lost greatness, the day you left. I truly believe you were a man of excellence, and a man that had greatness. I miss you, more than you'll ever know. And don't forget I love you, so so much. Ok? I love you."



And that's probably what I would have said if I didn't have to go to some salon for some silly job and I could head down to the cemetery. But I can't so here it is. I believe heaven's gone virtual, anyway.

"I just want to thank you guys for being my family in Singapore. I'm not just saying this for the sake of it, but I really do believe this cell group is extra special, with each member bringing some talent and ability to the table. I'm so proud and happy to have been a part of this family, and I love you guys and I'll miss all of you so much."

With that, our cell group becomes one man smaller as Wen Yuan embarks on his new life with Yang Hui back in Shanghai. We had a celebration of sorts (for Bern's and Cassia's birthday plus a farewell celebration) at his place today, spending his last few hours in Singapore with him. It wasn't extremely extravagant, we had simple food, a short cell group... (We even threw in a few rounds of zhou ji mi ma) but it was one of the best cell groups I've ever had simply because the love was tangible. As we said our goodbyes at the void deck of his block, what I felt was bitter sweet.

Wen Yuan is one of the smartest people I know (this is the most blond way of phrasing it, but really, there's no other way). If friendship was based on credentials, he'd be the best one. He's a PhD holder, for goodness' sake and now on the way to becoming a boss at his company. But it's not, and he's a good friend nonetheless. He inspires me to work harder, is full of humility and grace, and really, the way he bothers about the small details can make you feel so loved. He's a brother thats going to be dearly missed. All I can say is.. thank God for the internet.

----

This month has been trying to say the least, and what with the myriad of assignments and projects I took on, I feel so utterly swamped I can't remember what its like to breathe. It seems as though everyone has entered the new semester more competitive and driven than before and what I'm doing seems remarkably similar to a rat race (which will probably leave me a very tired rat). Add to that the bad memories this month usually brings, and the new unpleasant revelations I've discovered, I think that this semester is going to be the most trying one yet.

But instead of whining about it, I won't. Because I believe that the most trying of times is also a time for growth, a time for change, and maybe, just maybe, a time to slowly let go and begin to move on. And I believe that the end product of all this stretching and moulding and even pain will be something beautiful.

Something beautiful.

I'm done trying and trying to be chirpy and happy and falala, when really, all I want to do is crawl under the covers and have a good long cry.

There are no wish lists to be made, I'm not exactly looking forward to my birthday. I hate this month, I hate all the days and weeks it entails.

So there you go, Sarah Ling is no longer affected.

I know this has taken long, and I've been horribly MIA from my blog. But here it is, here it is - my NYC update


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"We'll turn Manhattan,
Into and isle of joy."


It was at the end of the first day of our trip. We'd been to the Met in the morning, and had spend the rest of the day enjoying 5th and 6th Avenue. Strolling into Bergdorf Goodman, gushing at Louboutins and the hot hot HOT sales staff from AnF, wearing Harry Potter hats in FAO Schwartz and playing with iPhones in the Apple store. Our feet were tired, but our hearts excited.

Siew had rushed to find another toilet again (after the 2349952107234th time that day) and there I was. By myself, sitting on that stone bench at the Rockefeller Centre. To my left was the Met Gift Shop, to my right was Banana Republic. The fountains were behind me, with children playing and couples relaxing. In front of me was the famed Rockefeller Ice Skating Rink filled with people. Some professionals spraying ice and some first timers wobbling ungracefully on the ice. Couples holding hands and children playing. Ella Fitzgerald was crooning in my ears as I sat there, and there and then it hit me. One hundred percent concentrated happiness.

I don't need to tell you what you already know, I shouldn't have to describe to you what you can already picture in your mind's eye. You can imagine it for yourself - the tall skyscrapers and the streets that are bustling with life, Times Square brightly lit and the Empire State Building and all its grandeur. What I can tell you is what I've learnt from being in the great city of Manhattan.


Wear comfy shoes. For all the streets and sidewalks you want to walk past, for all the avenues you want to cross, wear comfy shoes. Sure, 4-inch stilettos might look gorgeous in the pictures, but really. After sixty blocks of exploring Manhattan on foot, you quickly learn that sometimes the best thing to have is your trusty ballet flats. The flats that will carry your tired aching feet to heaven (read: the shoe department of Bergdorf Goodman) and let you oggle at the gorgeousness that is Louboutin shoes. It had been the perfect pick-me-upper to what had been a very tiring day.

Never stand above subway vents, especially if you're wearing a flare skirt. I had to learn this the hard way. We were in the middle of Times Square for the very first time and I was having my Hiro Nakamura moment when whoooooooshhhh. The air blew my skirt upwards and I had my very first Marilyn Monroe moment. Siew (as well as the rest of the people in Time Square) had a full view of my undies, which brings me to my next point - wearing decent underwear under skirts. Thank God I wasn't in my multicoloured polka dotted undies.

Prepare for the unexpected. NYC might seem larger than life, and it is. Oh, there are many moments you feel like you've stepped onto a movie set. But beyond the glitz and the glamour of 5th Avenue lie a different New York. The city is real, and amazingly ordinary. The people are authentic. And those are the ones that will really surprise you. From the busker at the Subway from 103 St that Siew fell for, to the man at his hotdog stand who made me feel awfully special because he thought my eyes were beautiful.

Look for beauty, it's usually there. The massive works of art that make up the NYC skyline. Standing silently, waiting to be noticed. From the cracks in the pavement, to the little potholes along the roads, from the mass of yellow you see because of all the taxis, to the ancient Subway station zooming by. From the beautiful NY Public Library that looked like the Hogwarts castle (the water fountains were carves lion heads that emerged from the walls), to the beautiful Empire State Building. From the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to the Statue of Liberty. From the magic of 5th Avenue to the wonder of Central Park. These, these are the things that make NYC such a beautiful place.

Celebrate your differences. The SIFE cultural fair was such an eye opener - 48 countries represented by little tables, with people dressed in their national costumes trying to bring a piece of their lives to the world - I've never felt so different, yet so similar to such a large group of people before. We met Kazakhs dressed in bright blue costumes, Brazilians in yellow and green t-shirts, Japanese in their kimonos and Koreans in their hanboks. It was a beautiful sight, people of different race and skin colour in this lovely big mesh of wonderful racial rojak coming together for the same cause.

Everyone's a little bit racist sometimes.. Oh Broadway. What is NYC without its politically incorrect humour and freedom of speech? Avenue Q was absolutely brilliant and running in the rain along Times Square sans an umbrella was worth it.

SIFE is a brilliant brilliant organization. As I sat and listened to presentation after presentation, I stopped listening to the impressive financials and high media impressions and instead heard passion, squeezed into twenty four short minutes. From the slick and polished presentations (*ahemUSAahem*) to those who obviously had a hard time translating their presentations from their native languages to English, I heard audible passion, and pride at work well done. Each presentation was a labour of love, representative of many hours of hard work put in. From transforming an entire village by introducing tourism, to building a shopping centre specially catered to the physically disabled, I heard students talk about changing their worlds in the belief that one person can indeed make a difference. As cliched as it sounds, as 'un-altruistic' you may think these students are for doing good work for a competition, I still think SIFE can slowly, slowly, change the world. One school at a time, one culture at a time.


So. My second trip to NYC was nothing short of brilliant and really, I've fallen in love with the city all over again. And seriously, I want to live there, study there, breathe the air there......

Well you know what they say - third time's the charm.