with |ove; me

Monday, November 14, 2005

yesterday was fun(:
both morning and night.

huge party last night:
vineyard style.

it saddened me,
that friends,good friends at that,
and close friends of my mother,
didn't turn up on our church's third anniversary,
neither did they turn up for the installation of our pastor,
and they didnt even come for the huge goodbye party for the Gurneas.
the couple from which they,as well as everyone of us have learnt so much from.

isn't it strange how we forget,
so easily,
the people who have helped us so much in our lives or have helped us get where we are?
they left our old church to plant another and they brought with them,
us.
we went to Vineyard Singapore.
and from there,
eager to go church plant,
they branched out,
left and did exactly that.
i think if they stayed long enough,
it'd be him being installed as the pastor.
my family and i stayed at Vineyard Singapore though,
it wasn't anything bad.
just,
i don't know how to put it.
but i really really thought that they'd at least be there,
if not for the installation,
at least for the anniversary,
at least for the Gurnea's goodbye party as well as Andrew's celebration.
but they didn't

anyway,
watched this gorgeous show the other day called
She's Too Young
beautiful show about how a fourteen year old,
straight A student got messed up cos some ass with Syphillis was sticking everyone.
it left a sobering thought i must admit,
you never think it'll happen to you.
and it does.
anyway,
there was just one scene in the show which got me thinking,
and oddly,
it had nothing to do with the sex bit.

the mother of the main character was getting worried about her dating a guy two years her senior,
and this girl,
the main character is a straight A student,
and she plays the cello 90 hours a week.
she's a good girl,she doesn't party and is really really sweet
and all she said was:
"mom. have i ever given you a reason to worry even once?"
and i nodded at the television in utmost agreement.
then i thought,
her mother's giving her freedom only at fourteen,
and she's still learning to let go of her baby,
and she's finding it so very hard.
but then again,
she has no reason not to trust her daughter because she's a straight A studet and everything.

and then i looked at myself,
i'm not a straght A student for sure,
and i've definitely broken my mother's trust many many times,
yet she still trusts me so very much.
and i came to a horrible realization,
if my mother ever starts freaking out about me or something,
i can't turn it round and ask rehetorically if i have ever been a cause for concern.
because i know i have.
i always have been.
if it's not my grades it's partying.
haha.

so if my mummy reads this,
THANK YOU MUMMY FOR TRUSTING ME SO MUCH(:

next point to blog about.
local productions suck.
was talking about it with mummy the other day.
you know,
they blow stupid little things up like it's a life or death situation.
their characters are stero-typed and one-dimensional with absolutely no depth in them whatsoever,
as is the storyline.
wait,
what storyline?

the acting is atrocious.
i'm not a bril actor or actress,
but at least i don't act or prance around onscreen making people shudder with disgust.
they can't act romantic scenes or love scenes.
and do not talk about sex scenes.
right now my sister's behind me watching Moulmein High
with
"eee you like choo meng?"
"i know.you nid a makeober.den he wew know de rew yew"

urgh.
absolutely disgusting.

- xoxo
charis loves you
4:44 PM

Comments: Post a Comment

only yours baby

i'm charis vera Ng,
i'm NOT a Singaporean, i was born in UK
but i spent most of my four years in scotland
i love alastair(:
i'm doing my best to live for God though i often fail miserably

ok,try this:
you're this girl who's flown over to this country when you're no more than four years of age
you resent your dad for it,
and it doesn't help when things between your parents don't work out either.

so you miss your home terribly,
you miss going strawberry-picking,
you miss eating boiled eggs out of egg-cups
and you miss warm and cuddly Uncle John and Aunty Esther.

instead,
you find yourself forced to change
and adapt in a horribly hot place
where in primary school,
you meet cold,heartless little kids who ignore you and don't let you play "family"
just cos your accent is different.
early on,
you get weird looks and you find yourself going for recess breaks alone.
your classmates complain to the class teacher when you call them stupid
because they don't understand what to you is simple english.
but they leave you alone when you call them an imbecile
because they don't know what it means.
your primary 1 & 2 class teacher takes joy in complaining to your mummy
because she detests you.
she detests you for constantly correcting her english grammer and pronunciation in front of the class
you soon realize that you can actually gain and keep friends upon them finding out your mother's an actress
but by that time you've more or less forced yourself to lose your accent which makes communication a lot easier anyway.

that was the little girl charis,
now,
on top of that,
i can be a total biotch sometimes, towards people.
and don't tell me you aren't sometimes please.
but i try my very best not to bitch about people.
im a dangerous shopper(=
i never know what i want or need til i see it.

i don't like television.
now that's a first innit?HAH.
bet you never knew someone who didn't like tv
well i don't
and i'm not trying to be different and difficult
it's noisy and boring
i like music:)
i find eating a chore but i love snacking
figure that out
i find certain kinds of pain addictive,
no, i promise i'm still sane.

which is actually pretty remarkable for someone living here,
in this time and place
where you normally get loads of homework,
tests with questions that look like they're in foreign language,
and where everything's a competition to be the best,
the prettiest,
the most popular,
the most hated,
the thinnest,
the fattest, the coolest
the list goes on.
one shouldn't try to be something you're not,
but everyone knows that's easier said than done.
like duurh.