You

Life never fails to show me how frail I truly am.

I'm not perfect, and I'm very much flawed and I tend to not know which way to go at times (literally and figuratively)

but tonight, when I was walking down the street in the dark, and I saw the stars glimmering like diamonds in the sky - I am reminded that it isn't about me.

It's about You.

God, You're just amazing and I realize in moments of clarity that it really is about You.

Your love, Your grace and the fact that You made everything beautiful - including me.

The cost of a dream...how much are you willing to pay?

My favourite definitions of a dream from dictionary.com:

- A wild fancy or hope.

- A condition or achievement that is longed for; an aspiration: a dream of owning their own business.

- One that is exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful: Our new car runs like a dream.

I like the mention of beauty. I believe in heart and soul that this world was first and foremost created for beauty, not function. I believe that the flowers are multicoloured and the world is so spectacular because it is breathtakingly beautiful that way. Excellent.

To dream is something so close to my heart that not to dream is akin to dying - to dream is to have hope and to be able to have the faith to say and see things even when situations are screaming for you to stop believing, to stop holding on and to "get real".

I've buried so many dreams in my life - each of them there for a season, for a time. I've never known how an ugly break-up feels like or how the death of a cherished love one haunts you and tears at a piece of your heart but I believe that I can say that I know what it's like to be in pain. I will never resort to say I know more pain or less pain - since pain, in my opinion, is not quantifiable. It isn't as if I feel 100% pain or 10% pain - pain is pain and if you ever told me you're in pain, I relate. It's amazing and utterly scary how emotional pain surpasses all physical pain - how I'd rather you punch me compared to scathe me with your low opinion of me.

I don't really know what I'm getting at - I'm just trying to find some solace in seeing my thoughts (sadly not on ink and paper) but of seeing them.

I won't allow this to be a depressing post - perhaps because I can't allow myself to end on a note that says I've given up.

My dad has this inspiring story which he tells me whenever I'm too upset to speak. There was once, when I was 16, when I remember scoring really really badly for one of my exams and I felt terrible. I put in the effort and received no glimpse of that effort in my results. I sat on my grandmother's bed sobbing. I felt defeated and my dad, being the amazing person that he is, sat there. My dad gets awkward around me when I cry and I find that really, really cute. He'll pat my shoulder (my dad doesn't hug), and just let me cry.

He told me this though, and I'll share this intimate moment with you just cause I need the encouragement. He asked me if I knew what happened to the first space shuttle Nasa launched into space and amidst my tears I responded that I didn't. At that point in time, the 16 year old me honestly did not care about what happened. All I really cared about was that mark (I'm guessing it was add maths but gosh, I so can't remember).

He told me, in this "I'm going to inspire you" tone, that the Challenger was launched into space and seventy three seconds into the mission, the Challenger exploded, killing the entire crew.

The full story can be found here: http://space.about.com/cs/challenger/a/challenger.htm

I remember thinking my dad was crazy. That was really NOT motivational! His other favourite was Thomas Edison's story but I'd save that for another rainy day.

He explained to me that - I did badly. I failed this this around - but I didn't kill anybody doing it! 0_0 and that when Nasa's engineers failed, they killed lives. Precious, innocent lives.

You might think my dad and I are just off the rocker but I'll call it the Ong family syndrome if that is so, eh? :)

The thing is, 6 years down the path - this story still remains with me not as "the story dad uses on me when I'm sad" but also, the story I like to retell to others.

That's the reason the post is titled the cost of a dream.

Dreams cost you something, and I know that's no. big. revelation.

but Nasa's crew died for their dreams - and no, I'm not saying that dreams costs you your lives.

The focus that I took on - and my dad showed me (but I can be rather slow to get it), wasn't a focus on the crew that died in that explosion - but the focus really was - on the engineers that screwed up.

"The commission not only found fault with a failed sealant ring but also with the officials at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) who allowed the shuttle launch to take place despite concerns voiced by NASA engineers."

The inventor of the sealent ring, the officials (whether guilty of negligence or more) - faced failure, they faced loss and although a younger, more arrogant part of me could voice out, "they deserve what they got" an older, more matured part of me knows for a fact that anyone can make a mistake and it is when you do, that you know how strong you really are.

Strength isn't the ability to rejoice when you are victorious - it is the ability to get up when you have been defeated or seem to be, anyhow.

I'm typing this because I need the reminder so much.

I can list human after human who has gone through so many failures in their lives. You can list a few. People who have fought, who have paid a price for their dream and then more. People who believed that it is possible (i.e. Thomas Edison, though there is dispute over if he truly created the first light bulb and even Einstein), where no one saw possibilities.

I refuse to "get realistic". I never want realism to catch a hold of me and drain me of the magical moments of being able to have an ambition that's considered as a "wild fancy or hope". I never want to be taught to give up and stop trying. I will not be a person that does not see the possibilities in the impossible.

I had my first space shuttle explode on me. There were deaths and there was pain.

I'm ready to launch my second space shuttle - though more aware and careful this time around. I will get it right - not because of mere optimism but because of faith.

Don't let go of your dream, if you have one..

Don't let realism strip you off the ability to dream..

Don't let the world tell you what is possible and what isn't..

Cause these are the people who insisted the world is flat, the people who believed that man should never be able to walk on the moon, that the light in your room and laptop on your table would never exist. These are the people who speculate, dictate and watch but never step out into the unknown because they have lost the capacity to believe.

I pray that you'll find a dream that is worth every bit that it costs you - something so beautiful - and that you will be able to achieve it before moving on to something even more im-possible.

The unforgettable bus ride in Aust

I came back from a really, really long day - utterly - amazed.LOL.

I seem to meet the oddest, and most unique people at times and I wonder - is it because I'm weird? LOL. I love it! I met the most frazzled bus-driver today and gosh, I felt that we could have been friends.

I've been in Aust for 1 1/2 months about now and I really believe there is so much to love about this place. It's defintely not a "greener grass on the other side" concept but a "different grass on the other side" concept.

Anyway, back to my story- I hailed the bus at UQ today - at 8.00pm, in order to get back home (obviously). I sat in the bus and the busdriver stopped at a stop that was super near to uni. I panicked when she said the dreaded words, "this is my last stop". I hoped it wasn't true. I had gotten on the right bus, I have learnt to double check after going on the wrong bus once (because I didn't look at the last number - that's a story for another day though :).

So, I was alone in the bus and I was planning to get off when she asks me where I'm heading to, and when she noted that she'd be passing by the place anyway so she asks me to sit in front and that she'll drop me at my destination.

I was thanking God all the way. I mean, what divine intervention!

Tonight was monumantal for me not because I got a ride from a "Not in Service" bus and felt a bit like a VIP but that she poured out her heart to me during the ride. It was amazingly odd to be sitting there and have her tell me she had been hit by a boat (the boat was towed by a car which swung the boat right into her bus). She was shaken and tired and she looked absolutely drained. We talked bout the accident, we talked about her day - about how she was driving the whole day and the last thing she needed was to be hit and now she had to go to the city to get the damage assessed. We laughed about how ironic it was that a bus could be hit by a boat and how the bus centre joked about it and asked her how she got so close to the river.

At that point in time, I had made a friend - with an australian bus driver and it felt awesome. I offered her a bar of chocolate as I was getting off, she had made me feel accepted in a way I couldn't express. At times, I felt like the asian girl in a foreign lan but during that ride and the conversation we had - I felt like a valued person and she didn't care where I was from and what race I was. I wanted her to feel appreciated and although she told me she can't take chocolate due to health reasons - we shared a friendly banter of "take it" and "I can't!" before she told me she really couldn't. I got off the bus with the biggest smile on my face for a while.

I realize, that - the power of her one action to decide to take me back to my stop - had blessed me more than I can imagine. Her one action has made my view of the people here so different than it used to be. This single action showed me that we (i.e. Malaysian/asian/chinese) are not so much different from them (i.e. Australians) and that when the race, the skin color and the accent is taken away - the person, is what matters.

I just hope I blessed her back in some small way - just by listening.

Beauty, Passion and other little tid bits

Hey people,

I'm updating cause someone (i.e. Wong Wei I) asked me to =)

I'm nice and thus, will do as she has asked.

I'm not going to put up any photos though - cause I'm a lazy person. You can view photos via my Facebook. Add me if you haven't =).

Being in Australia... hasn't changed me into an entirely different person. LOL. Gosh, I'm so still me (whatever that means!).

I don't like winter - I have never liked the cold. I like the long walks at night, though - the ones from Trina's house to mine. The weather is amazingly cold at midnight but when I see the stars, I have, on 2 occasions, just said aloud, "God, the stars look so beautiful". On one such occasion, the Aussie guy who was walking behind me might have overheard and marked me off as some psycho (who says I'm normal, anyway ^^) and briskly walked ahead of me. It was rather amusing in some grace kinda way!

Gosh, I wanna type more but it's way too cold - episode 2 up tomorrow

=)

Picture

They say a picture is worth 1000 words.

I think this sums up my thoughts for now:

So much to pack and buy...so little time!

:)

On a lighter and happier note: I FOUND A PLACE TO STAY!

So so so so Thank God for that :D:D:D

North and South

I have a new favourite aside from Pride and Prejudice!

Gosh, I really thought that Jane Austen would have my undying love forever but I guess I was wrong.. :D Oh, I have found a new love Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell the author of the wonderful book that was later made into a movie.

There are startling parallels between North and South and Pride and Prejudice, I admit, but Gaskell managed to bring reality into her books. Austen's fairytale romance makes my heart flutter but the realistic situations that Elizabeth introduced to North and South made the story truly captivating, truly beautiful.

I love Margaret Hale, who, very much like Elizabeth Bennett, was strong-headed and opinionated. What I loved more about Margaret was how her charater was portrayed - her lack of perfect proprioty but more so, her love for the people that were there in the North, although she is a foreigner to them.

Aside from the fact that I adore Ms. Hale, and if you watch the mini-series, you will as well, I'm sure, I really dislike Mr. Thornton (I honestly hold true to liking Mr. Darcy a bit more). At the end of the series though, I believe I honestly came to the point where I saw the depth of the characters in the mini-series. Every act of pride and prejudice by both Margaret and Mr. Thornton was explained, gosh, I totally love it!

I think aside from the obvious romantic storyline, what I loved about North and South was the cotton mill - and the workers that were there.

Mr. Higgins was just the most fantastic man - a friend to both Margaret and Mr. Thornton - who spoke his mind. I loved his character - all rough around the edges. He believed in making life better for the workers (in any way possible), though his techniques were not the best. His character really had such an honest heart in making the quality of life better for those around him. (I kind of think he reminds me of my dad a little :D).

Seeing the children working at the cotton mill, and how ill cared for the workers were - placed a stir in my heart.

It was fantastic how Gaskell saw each of these elements - education, religion, and love - important and portrayed all of them in such a way that each was equally important.

Margaret fought for what she believed in - she was amazing, to have befriended harsh, rude and seemingly uneducated workers like Mr. Higgins. I wish I could say I would do the same for the next labourer that crosses my own path. She set aside her own social status and believed in justice, in friendship - and in equality.

I'm so thoroughly moved by her character. What a wonderful heroine :D

Oh, go watch it =) (its on youtube...). I summarize North and South into 3 works: Amazing, Amazing, Amazing.

I am so tempted to hunt down the book now!

Think Think Think :)

I'm so tired I accidentally just typed "Think Think Think :)" into the title area, and just pressed enter.

I want to sleep and I need to sleep - the only questions is, "why am I not asleep?!?". LoL.

There are so many things on my mind and a few chat conversations open on my msn I feel I'm on a buzz. Like there's something I'm forgetting but I need to remember - before I go to sleep.

I think I'm not making any sense whatsoever.

I blame it on fatique.

=) Thanks for reading the post. Hahaha.