Knitting with dog hair

I cannot help but be somewhat disturbed by something I learned from a knitting website.

Apparently, you can knit with dog hair.

Yes, people have made whole sweaters with their pet's hair.


I'm not so much interested in the "how-to" than I am in the "why-would-you-want-to".

I suppose you can argue that it's the same as wearing stuff made from sheep's wool, but somehow, it's different.

Is it simply because we're just so used to one form of yarn, and not the other?

I don't know, but my nose crinkles at the thought of it...

The Knitting With Dog Hair book has a rather funny subtitle though - "Better A Sweater From A Dog You Know and Love Than From A Sheep You'll Never Meet."

Link via Core 77.

Nemesis Train

I am a bit of a sucker for postmodern books. I enjoy the lack of traditional structure. I like the fact that in its seeming randomness, things still make sense.

Just finished reading Nathan's book Nemesis Train and there is no doubt about its postmodern nature. Which is ironic in itself since postmodernism is supposed to defy all definitions, but for the sake of this post, we shall not debate that.

Firstly, it's not often one gets to read a book published by a friend. Even more rare to find out that it is good. I'm so proud of Nathan! And have hopes that some of his brilliance may perhaps rub off on me if I hung out with him long or often enough.

Nemesis Train is an extremely well thought out book, and despite its obvious literary strength, is a surprisingly easy read.

But there is a tone of sadness, a tinge of "there really is no meaning in life" in the book and honestly, I was half worried that I would hurl the book across the room by the end of it because I really really hate it when books don't have a happy ending. I was most relieved when I realised I didn't have to do that.

I really liked the book, and I especially loved its very, no wait, extremely, clever ending.

My formal review here.

Oh, and since you're still reading this post, you should buy the book.

Ding in my stash laptop bag

This has got to be the longest and biggest knitting project that I've ever undertaken since learning how to knit at the start of the year.

It felt like it took forever.

Granted, I ended up getting distracted several times and started and finished other projects while trying to complete this, but it still felt like it took forever. I wonder if I'll ever have the stamina to knit clothing. Now that will be a test of endurance.

Pretty happy with this project. The main reason for the exercise was to get rid of yarn in my stash. I was given a bunch of acrylic unlabelled yarn that I really didn't have much use for, so it was a good excuse.

And I needed a bag to protect my laptop from the elements when I made that 2 minutes hike down the road from home to work.

So all in all, although it's not the most brain-stimulating or clever little project, goals achieved!

Making sense

It's a normal tendency to think that if we've been good, we will be rewarded and if we've been bad, we will be punished. It's how most of us were raised.

So naturally, when it comes to a relationship with God, whom most Christians call "Father", we would tend to see it that way too.

The following article contradicts that logic in a very real, dramatic and sad way, but provides meaning and a glimmer of hope as well. A glimmer of hope that we Christians cling on to, when the world doesn't make sense.

As the sun began to set over the Khan al-Khalili marketplace in Cairo, Egypt, the daily buzz of people, businesses and vehicles gave Erik Mirandette, his brother and friends no reason to feel alarmed. Then, in an instant, an explosion knocked Mirandette off his feet and sprayed him with nails as he simultaneously glimpsed a wall of fire engulfing his friend, Kris Ross. Behind Mirandette, his younger brother, Alex, and friend Mike Kiel were also leveled by the nail-saturated blast.

The bomb would ultimately claim the life of Mirandette’s brother, and leave Mirandette and his friends changed forever.

About two years earlier as a student at the Air Force Academy, Mirandette found himself restless. “I was a regular university student in my sophomore year, and things were going rather well,” he says.

Yet he could not shake a sense of discontentment. “I felt like there was just something else out there that I needed to be doing at that point in my life. I really wanted to experience life abroad, and I wanted to make a contribution to my fellow man—to do something to help and serve for a couple years. I thought, What would happen if I just gave two years of my life completely up to doing good things for someone? What would happen with that? What would God use that for?

Five months later, Mirandette was in Morocco with a humanitarian worker his church supported. “I was working with the refugees,” he says. “We had about 1,000 to 1,600 men at any given time living up on this mountain in the direst of circumstances, feeding from a dump, diseased and dying. They needed medicine; they needed food. The Moroccan military was conducting raids; they were getting shot at every week. It was a miserable situation. To go into a situation like that where there is no safety net, there is no comfort zone, it’s real. It’s life and death. And to see how much more serious and important a faith is—my faith got very real very quick.”

After spending more than a year and a half in Africa getting to know the stories of refugees, he wanted to understand more about their plight. “I really wanted to see what they were going through—what was going on in the rest of Africa that would cause them to leave their countries and venture toward Europe,” he says.

So he set out on a journey across the African continent with his brother, who had joined him in Morocco, and Ross. Their goal was to travel from Cape Town, South Africa, to Cairo, Egypt, and to serve with humanitarian groups along the way.

“I contacted a bunch of humanitarians and a bunch of missions throughout Africa, and we started leapfrogging our way up the continent,” he says. “We flew down to Cape Town, got three dirt bikes and started traveling north.”

What followed was four months of exploration, adventure and service to those in need.

“We worked [in Cape Town] and helped those communities, working with AIDS awareness stuff for a couple weeks, and got to know a lot of people there. Then we traveled north through Botswana.”

From Botswana they traveled to Zimbabwe and made their way up through Zambia, Tanzania, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, Kenya and Ethiopia.

Memorable stories outline their journey, from a camp invasion by a bull elephant in Botswana to patrolling with paramilitary rangers and swimming at the base of a breathtaking waterfall in Zambia.

In Tanzania the concrete road became a dirt trail that would bring them through 500 miles of often mud-entrenched jungle. From Tanzania they followed the trail to Burundi and into the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Only three weeks prior, that span of the trail had been an active war field.

“When we got to the end of that road, there was this huge volcano in one of the cities outside of Goma, which is in the northeastern Democratic Republic of the Congo. We climbed the volcano and spent time looking down into this fiery pit.

“That was a significant moment for me,” he continues. “At that point I was more convinced than I had ever been before that I was doing exactly what I needed to be doing with my life. I was out there with my brother and my friends, and things [were] good.”

In Nairobi, Kenya, with 4,000 miles left between them and Cairo, the trio was joined by Kiel, who had just completed a four-year contract with the U.S. Air Force.

Between Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda and Ethiopia there were, again, hundreds of tales to tell. It wasn’t until their journey was nearly over that they met their only major roadblock. When they arrived at Sudan’s border, they learned that the country’s border policy had changed just weeks before, and Americans were no longer allowed in without an invitation by the government.

The group was forced to travel the last leg of the journey by plane into Cairo.

“Once in Cairo, we’d accomplished our objective; we had finished our journey,” Mirandette says. “We had braved 9,000 miles across this continent of Africa, through two civil wars and about five different rebel groups. We’d finally reached the end of our journey.”

Mirandette and his brother Alex planned to go back to the States to celebrate Alex’s birthday in just two weeks. However, on their second day in Cairo, a suicide bomber with “the equivalent of 20 kilos of TNT” walked up in the middle of the band of friends and detonated his bomb.

“It was absolute hell,” Mirandette says. He recalls seeing body parts everywhere as he lay on the ground. “All my clothes had been blown off me. I’m lying naked in the street. My body’s full of hundreds of nails, and the nerves in my leg are severed. A good chunk of my left tricep was blown off.

“You’re lying in the street just trying to make sense of it all. I look over, and I’m pretty sure that one of my friends is dead. My brother is nodding in and out of consciousness, and my other friend looks like hell, but he’s walking, and he comes over and helps me tie tourniquets around my bleeding appendages and then goes over to deal with my brother. I mean, the smell, the choking smell of smoke with all the body parts. It was a complete and utter hell.”

After hours of pain, panic and fear as they were transported and tended to, Mirandette, who had been sent to a different hospital than his brother, received a phone call from his mother.

His little brother didn’t make it.

It was the worst thing Mirandette could have imagined. “I would have, in a heartbeat, given my life to save my brother,” he says. “I even tried: He was the first person on the ambulance, and we were sure that I was going to die. And then he was taken, and I live.”

It is a chapter in their story that left only confusion, pain and doubt.

“It really caused me to question the nature of God,” Mirandette says. “How could He reward a group of guys who are following His plan with such an unspeakable hell? It’s hard still to try to wrap my mind around all that.”

In the months that followed, Mirandette’s body began to heal, but inside he remained “a real wreck.” Even after returning to his home in Michigan, he was surrounded by reminders of Cairo.

“In Grand Rapids everybody knew my story,” he says. “Everyone knew my name. Everywhere I went somebody was there to say something about the whole thing. I just needed to get away for a while.”

From Grand Rapids, Mirandette and Kiel moved to Kauai, Hawaii, where their internal healing could really begin. Mirandette found a job bartending, but more importantly he found anonymity and peace. “It was there that I wrote The Only Road North (Zondervan), which was really cathartic—just sitting down, telling the story and trying to make sense of it all.”

In his book, Mirandette recounts his journey, from his days as a discontented college student to a seasoned African traveler—a man whose faith was more real than when he began. But he does not propose to have any answers.

“It took us four months before we felt ready [to simply live again],” Kiel says. “The dream of one day waking up and being the way I was is gone now. It’s a continual process that I’ve accepted, and I have come to embrace the new me.

“We still fight our inner battles, but we know that we have two other guys who can help us through it,” Kiel continues. “We have gone from adolescent friends to three brothers who will always be there for each other no matter how life decides to mess with us. A bond has been formed that is difficult to describe in words.”

For Mirandette, the end of this story requires the beginning of a new one. “The conclusion that I came to was either everything that I had believed in up until that point—everything that I had stood for, everything that I had lived for the last couple years, everything that my brother died for—either that was true, or my life and his death were completely in vain. I wasn’t willing to accept that.

“I have to believe that someday—I can’t imagine that it would be in this life—it’s all going to make sense, and it’s all going to be made right. Until then my responsibility, my job, my obligation is to do the good that I can do and to make the difference I can make.”

The original article was found here.

God's plans for being better are better

Heard this phrase during worship this morning and it made me chuckle because of the way it sounded.

What it meant however, is a good reminder that I need to trust in God and know that he is good and that he only has the best intentions for me.

So all that praying to God asking for xx so that my life will be better, all that requests to God for xx so that I will feel better...

I should simply be letting go of control and trust.

Snail sweaters

She knitted sweaters for snails!


Link.

Curfews

I'll admit it. I have become a fan of trashy TV lately. First Taken Out, then 90210. (I'm going to claim the fact that I still haven't become a fan of Home and Away or Neighbours as my saving grace.)

They're just such good shows to knit with! Completely brainless fodder that you don't really have to pay attention to in order to know what's going on. It's perfect for when you need to concentrate more on the knitting and less on the TV.

But that's not the point of this post.

The point of this post is to wonder about the bane of all teenagers' lives - the curfew. (And it's related to trashy TV because I started thinking of it while watching 90210.)

I remember when I was a teenager (it was not that long ago). I hated my curfew, even though it was a very generous one.

I wanted to stay out all night, hang out with friends, be cool, or something or other. And even if I weren't out, I simply wanted to stay up all night. I'm not sure doing what anymore, but going to bed meant the end of the world or something.

It's funny how now that I'm living some 6000kms away from home, without my mum to actually find out what time I get home or go to bed, I find myself usually home by 8pm, and tucked into bed before 11pm.

Maybe it's because nothing stays open past 6pm in Australia except restaurants or supermarkets. But I think it's mostly because I just don't see the point of being out or up all night.

I have a comfortable home to relax in, with almost everything I could possibly want. I'm usually sleep deprived (mainly because although I'm tucked into bed by 11pm, I'm actually reading and not asleep) and so getting an early night's sleep is always a luxury.

If I were a teenager now, my parents would be so pleased with me for adhering to my curfew, and then some.

But why is it that when I was a teenager, it just did not make sense to me to be at home?

Why did I hate my curfew so much?

Maybe I'm just a big nerd.

Or maybe I'm simply getting old...but that still does not answer the question of just what is so alluring about being "out there" past your curfew.

Unintentional terrorist?

The Sydney Morning Herald has reported that:

Benbrika, 48, of Dallas, was found guilty of intentionally directing the activities of a terrorist organisation and of being a member of a terrorist organisation.

What I'm wondering is, can you actually

• unintentionally direct the activities of a terrorist organisation; or
• unintentionally be a member of a terrorist organisation?

Can you actually unintentionally direct someone to kill hundreds of innocent people? What about unintentionally joining an organisation that gives members weapons and military training, with the sole aim of terrorising people?

Can you actually be part of something that devastating and not know that you actually are?

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much and reading too much into things...

Full article here.

Rainbow promises

Photo from zmescience.

There was an extremely heavy downpour that lasted a brief few minutes when I was at the gym yesterday. I didn't see it, but I certainly heard it.

And then, driving the 4km or so back from the gym, I was assaulted by no less than four rainbows.

I'm not sure what it is with rainbows, but my heart sings every time I see it. It brings a smile to my face and I immediately feel happy.

I also have a dream of one day being able to reach the end of the rainbow (not so much to find the pot of gold or the leprechaun that might be there, but just because it would be a cool thing to do. And before you tell me, I know it's not possible).

But anyway, driving that 4km back was possibly the most joyful thing I did yesterday. Just being able to see those rainbows and being surprised by another when I turned the corner was simply amazing.

It's funny how something that essentially serves no purpose can make one so happy. And I cannot help but wonder if it's somehow related to God's promise to Noah.

Homemade sugar body scrub

Amazing what "pamperific" things you can make with things you can find in the kitchen!

Tried making this homemade sugar body scrub a few weeks ago and it was really simple. But the best part of it was how smooth and soft it made my skin feel after my shower/bath.

The main ingredient is of course, sugar, followed by either baby oil or almond oil. Then there's the vanilla extract and the lavender essential oil.

I loved it so much I had to make another batch just for a friend and I think there'll be many more batches to come!

Full recipe here.

Daddy, I'm in love ... and he looks just like you

The Sydney Morning Herald recently reported that "Men tend to wind up with life partners who look like their mothers, while women are lured to partners who look like their fathers, scientists report."

Those who know me will know that I have a vested interest in asking, what about multicultural relationships? How do you explain that?

Article here.

Phonicible

I'm not exactly sure what the word Phonicible means, but to me, it is a very pretty slouchy beanie thing.

My very first hat knitted in the round and one that actually fits me! All because I finally bothered to knit a tension square first to ensure that the sizing is correct.

Love the colours on this hat. I especially loved knitting with the bright yellow yarn, which is 100% pure merino and incredibly soft and smooth. I couldn't stop rubbing it against my face initially, which could worry some.

It looks complicated, but all that is involved is plain old knitting (you don't even have to purl) and the ability to juggle two balls of yarn, which is not difficult at all.

Managed to finish this in super fast time for me, because I had a lot of free time last week at Jumbunna Lodge while trying to be a TV star.


Have a look at the better looking photos from the designer (who is one of my favourites).

Hearing from God

Been going through the book of Acts in my Bible study group these last few months and yesterday, we came across something that really struck a chord with me.

Since converting to Christianity, I have had constant struggles with trying to figure out God's will for my life.

You stand at the crossroads of life and it's about choosing do I go here, or do I go there?

And the answer is usually: actually, you can go here or there.

But why can't God just tell me exactly where he wants me?! In fact, it would be rather nice if God can just talk to me and tell me what kind of direction I should head and what path I should take.

Alas, no.

But it made me feel so much better to know that even Paul, one of God's strongest advocates in Bible times, the one who spent more than 20 years of his life wandering around the ancient Roman empire, did not have that much more access to God.

True, he had extremely close encounters with God. But when you read the Bible, you realise that out of his 20 odd years of being on the very front line of God's work, God really only directly spoke with him, well, five or so times?

It's not a very good average, when you think about it. That's like having God talk to you only once every four years.

But it helps to encourage me. It tells me that I can keep living life, doing the best that I can to glorify God and walk with him, and when the time is necessary, he will talk to me. Not everyday, not when I want it to happen, but when the need arises, I will hear from God.

Recycling refunds

The South Australian refund on drink containers will double from 5c to 10c today, its first increase since the recycling scheme was introduced in 1977.

A few things popped into my mind when I read this news article.

• Good on South Australia for encouraging and "incentive-ising" recycling.
• How forward thinking is the South Australian government to introduce the scheme more than 30 years ago?
  
• Why can't the rest of Australia do the same?
• Maybe I should move to South Australia.

It's not like the rest of the Australian states do not recycle, or encourage recycling.

Almost every lunch time when I go home for lunch (yes, I'm one of those lucky ones), I'd almost religiously make the trek to the recycle bin with my stash of plastics, tin cans and what nots. I just don't get paid for it.

Or maybe recycling doesn't come naturally to South Australians, and so the government actually needs to pay them to do it? dodges blows from South Australians

News article here.

Sometimes, they're really statues

Blog Action Day - October 15


Blog Action Day is an annual nonprofit event that aims to unite the world’s bloggers, podcasters and videocasters, to post about the same issue on the same day. Our aim is to raise awareness and trigger a global discussion.

This year's issue is Poverty.

I'm planning to take part. Are you?

Find out more.

Jumbunna Lodge

Find out more.

What I really want to know

The following poem from X facta reflects my thoughts and sentiments exactly.

I want to know

I don’t care which denomination or religious community you align yourself with.
I want to know how spiritual you are as a singular person in the daily movement of life.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care how many fundamental beliefs you cherish in your head.
I want to know what your heart cherishes, for that is what your hands will ultimately do. Show me what you do with your time and how you spend your money and I will know what your real beliefs are.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care what doctrinal knowledge you possess, or how many times you’ve proved your position through the selective use of scriptures.
I want to know how many times you’ve proved God exists by being His helping hand to the lonely, the sick, the poor, and the unseen, unheard voices.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care if your church building has fancy stained-glass windows, cushions on the pews, or beautifully landscaped gardens.
I want to know about the people inside. Do they act differently when inside those four walls than when outside? Do they use different words, put on different mannerisms, or even dress differently? Do they have any friends outside those four walls?
kh copyright 2006
I don’t care if you pay tithes and offerings to your local CSP [church service provider], or how much you donate to charities or other tax-deductible organisations.
I want to know how the other 90 percent of your income is spent. Your generosity in all of life speaks more to me of who you are and what kind of God you serve.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care where you are on the ladder, or what your title is.
I want to know how much family time was sacrificed to get there and what you will sacrifice to stay there. Show me how much family time and personal time you spend with God, and I will have a clearer picture of where you are spiritually.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care which food you choose to eat, or drinks you choose to drink.
I want to know how often you share that food and drink with others. If you practice hospitality - whether your table is groaning with gourmet delicacies, or simply bread and water - that tells me more about your “inner health” than any dietary preferences.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care what special days, seasons or festivals you observe.
I want to know how you live sunset-to-sunset every day of the year. Your daily pace, rituals and observations reveal more to me than your beliefs about specific days.
from xfacta.blogspot.com
I don’t care which books or magazines you read, conferences or seminars you attend, or even how much Bible study you do.
I want to know how all that information is making a difference to your ability to live in such a way that I might be attracted to That Story as my own Truth.

RAK ten

I got some lovely yarn from the Random Acts of Kindness group on Ravelry a couple of weeks ago. They weren't enough to make much of anything in one colour, but I managed to combine two of the yarn colours to make this fabulous neckwarmer (pattern by Yarn Ball Boogie - I love his designs).


I initially thought the project was cursed or something. It's a real easy pattern, but it took me about ten false starts before I got anywhere.

The pattern is done in what he calls brioche rib, although some have called it fisherman's rib. I'm not sure which. Either ways, I absolutely love it.

And the most amazing thing was that I had just the right amount of yarn. Nothing left over.

Love the star buttons.

Car rego YAC 477

If you are the owner of car with registration numbers YAC 477 (NSW), YOU ARE AN EXTREMELY RUDE DRIVER.

Parking across a driveway used by eight cars is not cool.

I have had to cancel my plans this evening simply because I could not get out of my driveway.

The hospital across the road does provide a car park. Don't inconvenience eight other people just because you are too cheap to pay the fees.

Depicting reality, or just being too graphic?

Maybe old age is making me more sensitive, but I've been feeling more and more sickened everyday by the time I finish reading the newspapers.

The number of wars and violence probably hasn't changed much over the last few years, but I think the number of graphic images is ever on the increase.

I feel that I'm viewing more and more photos of actual dead bodies, or dismembered body parts, of blood and gore, and whatnot. And I'm talking close up shots of blood oozing from people, or of dead bodies lying on the ground, with their eyes staring vacantly and mouths open.

If memory serves me right, if a photo of dead bodies taken a few hundred metres away used to be considered graphic. But now everything is brought much closer.

Do photographers simply have more powerful zoom lenses than before?

Or are we on the brink of getting (or have already gotten) disensitised by such violence?

I'm not saying we should paint life as filled with sunshine and happiness where violence doesn't occur. I'm all too aware of the many atrocities that we happen to like inflicting on each other. But do we really need to have 10cm high colour photos emblazoned on a page?

I've just seen a photo in the newspaper of an injured journalist trying to hold up his dead comrade. Both have blood everywhere, and honestly, the only thing I feel like doing now is throw up.

One moose, two ??

If one mouse, two mice; and

if one goose, two geese; then

is one moose, two meese?


Photo credit.

Murphy the travelling gnome

A very amusing news report on the travels of a garden gnome.

Yes, one of those clay ones that stand in a garden.

I wanna find a gnome and travel with him too.

Link.

Languished fingerless gloves

So, I've been waiting forever to own a pair of fingerless gloves. I've made two, but I've given both away, so it is with much gladness that I finally have my own pair.

Never knitted a striping pattern before, but I loved the idea of one, so how better to experiment than on my pair? It was a bit of a hassle, changing yarn every six rows, but I love the end result. I'm going to do more striping patterns from now on.

I wanted to embellish with like a cute little flower with leaves, but the knitted flower turned out gigantic, so I'm not sure if the gloves now look pretty or more like I have a strange growth. I'm contemplating putting the leaves on the right hand, so that when my hands are together, they look like a joined plant. But we'll see. I've moved on to my next project now.

The weather is still fairly cool, so I'm looking forward to finally having warm hands without needing to stuff them under my armpits or something.

Making plans

What do you do when you know you have big decisions to make that will change your life, but no idea which way your life should exactly go?

It's really easy to give a knee-jerk reaction when you feel that you're at the crossroads and either need to make a choice, or simply desperately need a change in your life.

You want to plunge in, and do something completely different and go in a totally opposite direction to where you initially thought your life was headed.

But what do you do?

I've had to make those kind of decisions once too often in my life, and often, I realise that all I needed to do was to practice a little patience. And it's usually easier said than done, particularly when you're sick of what you're currently doing or the situation that you're in.

But we need to remember that our time lines are often very different from God's time line.

Everything has its place and time and just because we want something to change does not necessarily mean it is actually time for a change.

What we need to do is to put our faith and trust in God that something will work out, keep praying and keep hoping.

It's not going to be easy, but it will soon become clear.

The Sabbath

If I were ever to give up God and my religion, one of the things that I'll continue to observe would have to be the Sabbath.

Those who aren't Seventh-day Adventists often see us Adventists as rather legalistic when it comes to the Sabbath - no buying, no shopping, no swimming, no watching movies, no going out, no, well, basically, no having fun of any sorts, or something like that.

And maybe that's what it's like for some people. But the Sabbath is a completely different thing to me.

It's not about reading the Bible, praying or being at church all day. Not that it's bad, but I'm also realistic and human and possibly not as religious as I should be. But I digress.

I love the Sabbath for what it stands for - a day of rest.

And maybe my interpretation of it is wrong, but I do understand it rather literally.

It's usually a go-go-go existence for me for most of the week. Working Mondays to Fridays, with evening gym/Bible study/shopping/movie/lounging in front of the TV sessions. Sundays are usually rather hectic as well, consisting of either household chores, errands or general social activities which tend to wear me out.

Which leaves Saturday, the Sabbath day that I observe. And it's beautiful.

It's the day where I feel that I can legitimately slow down, not rush and basically relax. I go to church, I have lunch with friends from church, I go for a walk, I knit, I read, I surf the internet, I nap, I unwind. And I don't feel guilty about it. I don't feel I have to accomplish something. I simply relax.

You should try it someday.

Domestic violence

A recent event in Australia led me to write this script a few weeks ago regarding domestic violence.

It's an extremely important message that I really do want to share with everybody.


My Word 18th July 2008 from Infocus News on Vimeo.

Fetching

Thus named because apparently, the cables twist "fetchingly" towards the thumbs. I'm not too sure about that, particularly because I made some mistakes when it came to the thumb that made one look munted.

The cables caused knitting time to decrease significantly, but it may also be due to the magic loop technique that I was using to knit in the round (no seams, baby!)

But overall, it still looks pretty, were not too hard to knit and keeps the hands warm!

Pity it's a gift for a friend...

Must make one for self.

Habit forming

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit.

I've managed to wake up earlier than usual for the last six days (not consecutively, but very close) to spend some time reading the Bible.

I guess that's 15 more days to go.

Why is it so hard to read the Bible, but oh so easy to spend hours reading a novel or a magazine?

Why is it so hard to concentrate when reading the Bible, but oh so easy to stay riveted to a book and put it down only when your eyes cannot possibly stay open?

Santa Claus? God?

I think I'm guilty of treating God like Santa Claus at times. This particularly happens when I'm fervently praying for something.

"I'd better be good (or pray, or read the Bible, or [insert appropriate 'good' action here], or God is not going to answer my prayer," I catch myself saying sometimes.

But that's really not that way God works. Whatever happens to us is really not a direct result of whether we've been naughty or nice. There is no obvious action = consequence thing here.

All we have to do is have faith and trust that God will watch out for us. And that no matter what happens (including unfavourable answers to prayer), it will all work out in the end.

Of course, that does not mean we shouldn't spend time reading the Bible or talking to God. We simply shouldn't do it just because we want to get into God's "good books" so that he'll answer our prayer requests favourably.

Chants to self, "God is not Santa Claus. God is not Santa Claus."

Vero Quant

My first forays into entrelac knitting is complete!


After the initial confusion and feel that it was a rather tedious process, I actually started enjoying knitting entrelac by the time I was halfway through. I didn't even need to really look at the pattern by then!

I really love the way the yarn looks like it criss-crosses and the texture just looks absolutely fantastic. I'm just not sure if I'll try entrelac again soon because I'm such an impatient knitter and just want to get my project down as quickly as possible, and I can't seem to really do that with entrelac.


The only problem with this project though, is the fact that I ran out of yarn towards the end. Thought I'd be intelligent and use a different yarn I had in my stash, but somehow, I feel that I now look like a smurf on one side.


I've got a smurf for a left ear...

Ackland bootees

Aren't they just the most adorable things on earth? My first baby knit!

Ok, so the baby came early (no, not mine) and will probably be about a month old by the time he receives them, but considering I made them a little big, they should fit rather well by then!

It was a bit of a challenge knitting the straps on. I couldn't really understand the instructions and honestly, I'm still not sure if I did them right. But they still look cute, so we'll leave it at that.

I knitted bobbles to use instead of buttons, largely because I was too lazy to go buy buttons and the shops were all closed when I needed buttons anyway!

Can't wait to see little baby in them.

Spending time with God

If you are a Christian, do you spend much quiet time with God?

Time to study the Bible and time to talk to him?

I find that whenever I have quiet time, I get a clearer understanding of my own life and a better perspective on whatever I happen to be going through.

My quiet time consists of a small amount of reading of the Bible, some amount of having a conversation, but for the most part, it consists of writing down my thoughts.

I relax, I calm down and I often finish with a certain amount of peace.

Sometimes, nothing gets solved, but I feel that I can breathe easier.

The only problem?

I do not do it as often as I should.

Eggs

As someone who has committed to buying only free-range eggs, I feel extremely ripped off after reading this news article in The Australian.

It is revealed that:

• Consumers who pay more for free-range eggs have been warned that more than one-third are officially stale.
• Well over half the hens described as free-range are housed in huge sheds, may never go outside and their eggs may come off conveyor belts.

It is absolutely disgusting to know that consumers can be thus misinformed. OK, so this is not the first time it's happened, but it just never fails to sadden me that people can be so dishonest just to gain some profit. Why can't people be truthful with each other?

Anyway, the silver lining in this story for me is that I very luckily have an "egg factory" next door and the eggs are definitely free range.

I know for sure. I sometimes feed those chooks with my food scraps too.

Dorset wheel earrings

What do you do when you have leftover yarn and want to make something absolutely unique for an aunt who likes jewellery?

Dorset wheel earrings!

Fandangle neckwarmer

I wanted a fast and easy project while driving west to go camping last weekend, and my entrelac headband definitely didn't fall into that category.

So instead, I decided to make a neckwarmer with some leftover yarn that I had. I wanted to play around with beads as well and so I ended up with this.


Honestly, not my proudest moments.

I had wanted to add more hanging beads, but I couldn't find beads with holes big enough that could fit through the needle that I needed to thread the yarn.

So I have a strange neckwarmer thing with some random beads hanging off it.

On the upside, it's nice, soft and keeps my neck warm without any peripherals hanging off it that make me either feel like I'm wearing a bib while eating or get in the way while I'm trying to get stuff done!

Words

I recently started learning entrelac knitting.

It's a rather interesting pattern to follow but a number of stitches sounded rather confusing.

And it's funny how people respond when you ask them questions.

"It's too hard!"

"Why would you want to try something like that for?"

They proceed to teach you, but not without some sort of admonishment that you've somehow decided to become a rocket scientist or something, mind you.

I agree. The pattern is somewhat difficult. My project was going fine, but there were tiny mistakes I knew should not be there. And I just could not get it.

But I persevered and did more research, and tried to get the thought that I was really attempting something really difficult out of my mind.

And then I got it.

So even though I was about a quarter of the way through the pattern, I ripped all the yarn out and restarted my project.

It's going beautifully now. I understand the pattern. I know the stitches, and honestly, it really isn't that difficult. Just a bit of a hassle because you need to turn your work every six stitches.

But I was nearly discouraged and wanted to give up trying because of the words of some, who gave me the impression that I was simply too ambitious or stupid to try something like entrelac.

Had they simply given me instructions and encouragement, I may actually feel better about working through my pattern. Instead, I was constantly shrouded with a feeling of dismay and impossibility.

Our words have an impact on people. And we need to be careful of what we tell them.

Yes, their dreams may seem impossible, even ridiculous to us.

But perhaps we need to take time to see the possibilities, and support them as best we could. Instead of cutting them down before they have even taken root.

Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

Proverbs 12:18

Human trafficking

I wrote this as a script for a show we do at work, but it's such an important issue I felt I needed to write about it here as well.

Did you know that up to four million people are victims of human trafficking each year?

People who are trafficked are exploited and this can mean anything from forced labour, slavery to prostitution.

Women, when forced into prostitution, generally work seven days a week, 12 hours a day. Many are not free to reject a client or unsafe practices and live under constant fear of contracting HIV and other diseases.

When forced into labour, victims are paid far below poverty wage in sweatshops where only two bathroom breaks are allowed in a 14-hour workday.

My word, are we as Christians doing anything to stop this monstrous atrocity against God’s children?

We need to use our voices and resources to raise awareness of human trafficking in the community and educate others.

And we also need to become more conscious of the things we buy. Enslaved persons can be directly or indirectly involved in the production of goods and services that we use every day.

We can help them by becoming ethical consumers who support businesses committed to offering Fair Trade certified products.

Do something to help your brother and sister in Christ today.

Links

Anti-slavery Project

The Jammed (movie)

Act Now

Fairwear

PR vs News

Ahhh...good old journalism is no longer what it used to be thanks to the rise of public relations...


While not exactly accurate, I have to say that there is some element of truth in it.

Being in the PR industry now, I'm no longer able to view news the same way. I'm always watching/reading news going, "wow, the PR rep did a good job on that one" or "hmmm, I think they need to get their messages right".

As for objectivity in news, I'm not sure it exists anymore.

Source: Nicholson Cartoons

Analysis...over-analysis?

It's not every day that one sees her work being analysed like a literature text by others.

Right in front of her.

Had a meeting this afternoon about a weekly current affairs/talk show that we do. In it, I wrote a 70 second editorial and we were discussing the contents of it today.

It was the most bizarre experience.

Two of the team members were having a rather heated discussion about what "the author is trying to say".

Yes, I'm the author, and I'm sitting right there. But it was not a matter of "what are you trying to say Melody?". It was more like "this is what I think she's trying to say."

Somehow, I felt a lot like Virginia Woolf or Shakespeare or someone, whose literary piece is being critiqued and anaylsed by a classroom of budding English literature students.

I also wanted to put my hand up and say, "Guys, you don't have to guess what I'm thinking, I'm right here. I'll tell you."

The only problem was that some of the analysis, while it made sense, was certainly not what I was trying to say. In fact, far from it. I had no intention whatsoever of giving any of that kind of impression.

And yet, there was a logical argument backing it up, like any good English essay should.

But it made me sit back and smile and wonder (yes, all this while the discussion was still going on) as to whether we tend to over-analyse what the great writers are trying to say while in English Lit classes?

Fluffy maner headband

I'm learning how to knit with circular needles for the first time.

It seemed utterly confusing at first. I just couldn't picture it in my head how it would actually work.

But I've done about 3 rounds now and it's actually really easy! It literally is knitting in the round. It's like a never ending circle of knitting, which makes it rather interesting when you're trying to stop knitting "at the end" because well, there isn't actually one. Will have to discover how to really end it later.

Bought a set of interchangeable knitting needles at a sale last week. They're absolutely gorgeous! Love the multicoloured-ness of them and they're really easy to knit with as well.

Anyway, am trying to knit a headband with my circulars now, we'll see whether it actually turns out the way I hope it would.

If it's a success, the headband will be incredibly soft and fluffy with the yarn I'm using. Can't wait.

Art

Australia’s artistic community is up in arms over actions by the police. Prominent Australian artist Bill Henson’s images of naked children have been confiscated from a gallery in Sydney.

Police are investigating the possibility of laying child pornography charges, but Henson’s supporters are outraged, saying that art should not be policed.

I agree that we should be allowed to express ourselves freely through art. But if we were to allow everything to be done in the name of art, it will not be long before murder was accepted.

Maybe I’m exaggerating, but I think you get the point.

How do you define art? Tattooed pig skins? Preserved human body parts?

Human beings have a natural tendency to enjoy creative and beautiful things. Many of us love creating, and art is a wonderful way to express our thoughts and even make a statement.

But we also have a responsibility to society. Whatever we produce, whatever we display, we need to consider – Are we highlighting a difficult issue that needs honest examination or are we in danger of celebrating humanity’s darker inclinations?

Read related news articles here.

Deranged hippie scarf

It's finished! And I don't think it actually looks quite as deranged as I was half afraid it'd be.

I had a lot of fun knitting this scarf, largely because it was so random and it was great to be able to change to a different yarn at almost every different row.

The ribbons were rather easy to work in and the Patons Powder Puff that I was having so much difficulty knitting with for the fingerless gloves turned out to be rather easy with this one. Probably had to do with the fact that I was using a needle at almost double the size.

It was really interesting knitting lengthwise as well. I had all these stitches squashed into a needle. Thank goodness the needle was long enough!

You can take a joke too far

Here's proof:

German police are investigating a couple after they offered their eight-month-old son for sale on internet auction site eBay.

Renee Beck, a police spokesman in the Bavarian town of Krumbach west of Munich, said on Saturday the 23-year-old woman told them it was only a joke.

But he said police were nevertheless continuing their investigation and the baby was put in state custody.

"She says it was a joke," he said. "That's not yet clear. Detectives are investigating on suspicion of child trafficking."

A number of people called authorities across Germany after seeing the offer on eBay that read: "Baby - collection only. Offer my nearly new baby for sale because it cries too much. Male, 70 cm long."

The opening bid was 1 euro ($A1.60). There were no bidders during the two hours before the offer was removed, police said.

The mother was quoted in Bild newspaper saying: "It was only a joke. I just wanted to see if someone would make an offer. They've taken my son to hospital and I've got to take psychiatric tests next week."

Poor baby is going to grow up wondering if his parents really do love him.

The search for meaning

New article published!

Clucky?

Can a person think children are cute without being actually defined as being "clucky"?

I have never had intentions of having children. It's not that I have a problem with children, I just don't see myself at the stage of my life where I want or will or can provide for any offspring.

Almost everybody who knows me, knows this.

But for some strange reason, for some people, the fact that I don't want children somehow equates to me hating children.

I don't want children because I don't want the responsibility of having to raise a child, not because I hate their guts or would rather eat them or something. Nothing of that sorts!

I think children are cute little things. I like playing with children and I enjoy being around them. Although I don't really know what to do with them at times, I like children.

I just don't want any of my own.

But somehow, to some people, that just does not make sense to them. And so when I comment on how cute a child is, they immediately go, "oooh, she's getting clucky!"

Must I want children, in order to realise they're cute?

Can I not simply admire from afar?

Why do people assume they know me simply because of something I say, or what I like?

Your identity is...

A few days ago, I finally found the movie that gave me my name.

Yes, my parents watched a movie that was released way back in 1971 and decided that the name of the main character would be a beautiful name for their daughter. Or something along those lines...

The movie itself was called Melody, and one of the soundtracks of the song is Melody Fair, by the Bee Gees. Now, my dad was a really big Bee Gees fan so I've grown up with the song and have always thought of it as "my soundtrack".

But it wasn't only till a few days ago that I actually found and watched the movie.

And the feeling I got while watching the movie is a little hard to describe. It was weird, warm and fuzzy all at the same time. And I just felt like a part of me is complete or something.

The movie is really sweet and cute, but certainly not award winning. But I want a copy of the movie, simply because it feels like it's "me". Not that any of those involved in the movie, or anybody else who has watched the movie knows that.

It's really crazy isn't it? But isn't it funny how all humans like to know their origins, where they belong and what actually constitutes their identity?

We cannot just live and go through life without wanting to know where we come from (and I'm not talking about the birds and the bees), or where our names come from, even if it were something as trivial as a movie.

And I start to wonder about those who have no identity. Those who are unable to know who their parents were, why they were thus named or even where they belong...

Do you know the origins of your name? Drop me a comment. I would love to know.

And for those wondering,

• Wikipedia entry for Melody
• Melody, the movie
• Melody Fair, the soundtrack

Adamant fingerless gloves

I finished all four rectangle pieces!! And even learned a new way of knitting.

Kind of still struggling with it at the moment, but I'm now able to wind the working yarn over the left needle without actually letting go off the right needle. Still trying to master it, but it's so much more time efficient!

Thinking of knitting another rectangle piece though. The first piece I made kind of has a hole in it because of some knitting drama...it won't unravel, just doesn't look all that nice...probably will knit another piece. Too much of a perfectionist not to.

Adamant fingerless gloves

Three rectangles completed!

One more to go and I'd be ready to sew them all up to make a pair of gloves!

Actually finished knitting almost half of the third piece at the Chatswood blood donor centre waiting for Daniel while he donated blood.

The all new Aussie Adventures!

New blog look to go with new blog organisation!

Categories to come:

• Seeing the world - how I see and experience life in general
• Walking with God - my relationship with God
• Knitting - the ups and downs of knitting
• Blogging logistics - anything to do with this blog in a technical sense

More categories may come, but that's all I've got for now!

Adamant fingerless gloves

I actually completed another rectangle piece and I think it's getting easier. Or it could just be wishing thinking.

Do not judge me by my race, my gender or the way I speak.

Do not assume you know me simply because of what I do.

I do not and will not fit into a mould.

Just because I am Asian does not mean I only have rice or noodles for my meals.

Just because I work as a public relations officer does not necessarily mean I'm an extrovert.

Just because I am female does not mean I do not care about politics.

Do not stereotype me based either on common knowledge, or on 10 other friends you know who happen to also be Asian and female.

You will be surprised how different I am.

In fact, you will be surprised how different everybody is.

This video brought a tear to my eye this morning.

Adamant fingerless gloves

Finished one rectangle piece, three more to go. This is still hard, but I'm still stubborn.

I went to watch a Christian Rock Eisteddfod over the weekend. Six high schools came together to present the story of Samson.

The story was separated into six different parts and each high school performed their own interpretation of the part, mainly done through dance.

Honestly, I'd always felt some sort of aggravation towards Samson. I thought he was just completely hopeless.

The way he just kept rebelling and disobeying God, even though he was the anointed one really annoyed me. I just cannot understand how he could be so bad!

And the thing that got to me the most was how God continued to choose him as the anointed one. That really irked me. "Choose someone better who actually obeys you!" I would think.

But then it hit me over the weekend - I am just like Samson.

I try to obey God, I try to be good. But boy, do I fall short from being this wonderful, perfect person. And yes, I still continue to make mistakes.

And if God were to treat me the way I wanted Him to treat Samson...boy, would I be in trouble.

So I'm glad God was patient with Samson. And God continued to love Samson and use him.

It just gives me that little more hope that He would be the same to me.

Adamant fingerless gloves

Oh my goodness, how hard is it to knit with this yarn?!?! I’m only persisting because of sheer stubbornness…

Today is going extremely slowly for me.

And really, all I had wanted to yell was "I'm not getting out of bed!".

During worship at work yesterday morning, a colleague shared about how God had already planned our lives way before we were born.

In a way, it's great to know that God has a plan for me right from the start. And as he has promised, this are plans to prosper me and not to harm me.

The colleague also went on to talk about how God did not only favoured the Jews back in Bible times, even though that's all we get to read about in the Bible. God was working with the other nations as well, moving them around the world and placing them just where he wanted them.

And all this for their own good.

The thing is, I can't help but feel a little bit like a pawn. That the only reason why I'm living is to be moved around by God.

Does it make a difference that the reason why he moved me around is for my good?

I suppose it makes the experience a little more pleasant....but yet, I still can't shake off the feeling that I'm just a chess piece.

Yes, I should be thankful to God for giving me life and sustaining me and all that, but why even create me in the first place if only just to move me around?

I don't have an answer for this, besides the fact that I can't exactly change the fact that I've been created, and I'm currently living and since God deemed it so, I suppose I should try to live my life glorifying and sharing him as best as I can.

Does anybody have any further insights to this?

I think I'm developing an overdose of news.

I've been away from my office for about a week and a half on a work trip to New Zealand recently. Since I'm the only one in the office who has a subscription to The Australian, the rolls of newspaper were piled up in some sort of strange pyramid (as can be seen in the pic) when I got back.

The rolls naturally went untouched when I got back since there were emails to respond to, media release/articles to write as well as a whole variety of smallish tasks that seem to take up the most of one's time.

But since I have to read the news for work, I've decided to read all 10 rolls of unread newspapers this morning.

My head is swimming.

And the most frustrating thing is, I'm trying to find a positive article to reflect upon for a weekly editorial I have to write for a TV show.

There are no positive news articles that I can find. Everything in the news has a focus on the negative. "The worst", "neglect", "fears"...no wonder people avoid reading the news. It'll cause them to sink into depression!

One wonders if this somehow reflects the world we live in, or perhaps shape the way we see the world. That life is simply one bad news after another and the only thing we can look forward to is well, something bad.

So I'm still struggling to find a bright light in the shadow, and I'm considering writing an editorial based on something else.

It's funny how life is so much more positive and happy than the newspapers would portray...

To me, at least.

I've been wondering about the need to continue blogging and I'm just not so sure anymore.

As Kenneth said, "blogging seems to have lost some of its allure from previous years".

And it's kind of is true. Well, for me at least.

I started this blog years ago when I was in England and wanted to keep in touch with my friends and family without actually spamming their inboxes. And the secondary purpose was to share an insight on how I see life and interpret it as a Christian.

It was my ministry, in a way.

But over the last few years or months, it seems to have descended into something more like a personal diary. The posts are about where I've been, what I've done, etc. But there's Facebook for that.

And strangely, I think as I get older, I feel like I've come more private. So I no longer have the desire to scream to the world what I'm doing on a private level. (That is on the assumption that the entire world reads my blog....)

Then I also tried to venture into the realms of communication, public relations and what I do as a job. But that just becomes too personal and too risky as one day, something may come back and bite me and cause me to lose my job.

So should I keep writing?

I tend to think that I want to, because I like the idea of having a forum that I can share what being a Christian means to me. How Christianity shapes me and helps me to see and interpret events and issues happening in the world.

The problem with that though, is that for some strange reason, I'm losing my muse. Or something like that. Or it could simply be being completely overwhelmed by work and being distracted by knitting.

So maybe this is how it's going to be. If you want to know about me on a personal level, say hi to me on Facebook.

This will become a platform for when I get the inspiration to talk about what being a Christian means to me. Oh, and possibly a few communication insights/tips that I may be able throw in as well.

Should I continue blogging?

That is the question...

I’ve been told you are very creative!

Someone wrote me to tell me this today. Well, not exactly just tell me this. There were other things in the email as well. Nobody writes emails to tell people just good stuff anymore (wink). But I digress.

Does anybody actually sit down and acknowledge, "I think I'm rather creative"?

I don't know. Somehow, it just doesn't seem to fit in the same category as "I'm pretty good at math" or "I'm quite analytical".

I guess I like to create stuff. Write, knit, make beaded jewellery, take random photos and do stupid things on Photoshop and InDesign...but I've just never actually saw myself as being particularly creative.

It's not as if I play a musical instrument (except the CD player), draw, paint or well, other creative stuff that other creative people do.

But do those people think they're creative?

People have told me I'm creative before, and more often than not, I've always felt like a bit of a fraud.

I really am not, I want to tell them. But would that simply be seen as a false humility, or perhaps even a sincere case of humility?

How do you actually define creativity anyway? The ability to create stuff.

By that category, everybody's creative. We think of new things to do, new recipes, the way something is displayed, how we dress...so why is it that only some people are actually labelled "creative"?

Am I rambling here? I suppose I am. It's Isabel Dahousie's fault.

As well as the fact that I'm actually wanting to blog about something really profound that someone at work said yesterday. But I don't remember what it is anymore.

Maybe it's not that profound after all...

I'm currently reading Alexander McCall Smith's Friends, Lovers and Chocolate (yes, he's the one that wrote The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series).

I'm thoroughly enjoying it, even though I've only read the first 30 pages of the novel.

Isabel Dalhousie, the lead character, is a philosopher, and the book is filled with various thoughts, perspectives and philosophies. Really intriguing. Highly thought-provoking. It's a book that makes me think. And I love it.

One of the observations she's had has made me think more than others.

It was hard to make goodness - and good people - sound interesting. Yet the good were worthy of note, of course, because they battled and that battle was a great story, whereas the evil were evil because of moral laziness, or weakness, and that was ultimately a dull and uninteresting affair.

It does seem to be in our human nature to be evil. By that I don't mean all of us have a natural tendency to murder or robbery.

But how many of us have smirked and felt vindicated when someone we dislike fall into misfortune? How often do we go back to the cashier to tell them they've given us more change? Talked bad about someone behind their back? What about speeding when we know that we can get away with it?

It's the little things (evils) that we seem to do so easily.

Is it a curse of sin?

And is doing good really an everyday battle?

I suppose it sometimes is. There are times when I've to fight against my own self, slap myself on the hand for being "evil" and remind myself that there are certain moral imperatives that I have to live up to.

At least, as a Christian, I have full faith that my sins have been redeemed by Jesus Christ, and that He at least gives me the strength to triumph over evil. Not all the times I suppose, because carnal nature is so much stronger it seems. But I feel empowered somewhat still.

It's just interesting to note that doing good is a battle, while being evil is just being...lazy...

Seems like a father and daughter over in South Australia have had a sexual relationship (yes, with each other) and she has given birth to a baby girl.

I'm not going to go into how wrong and disturbing it is because I'm sure we all feel the same way.

What I would like to talk about, however, is the comment from the police at the end of the article.

A South Australian police media spokesman said: "The couple is being monitored."

I have visions of a policeman skulking around in the bushes with a radio going, "Yup, they're holding hands, roger." Or "I think they're hugging a bit longer than what would be normal for a father and daughter, roger."

I mean, how exactly is the couple being monitored? Surveillance cameras? Bugged phones?

Article here.

Poynter Online recently shared the best writing tip of all time - sit.

Judging by the amount of blogging I've been doing lately, it's quite obvious I haven't been doing quite a lot of sitting.

It's difficult at times though. I'm sitting in my office all day, doing writer-ly stuff. It can be hard to finish work and still want to sit down of the computer and write some more. I'm going blind as it is.

But the thing is, it's even harder to walk around with all these ideas banging against each other in my head. I've got all these things to think about, all these things to write. And it's only through writing that I know what I really think.

So if I don't actually sit and write, I end up becoming this really confused and confusing person.

And it really is quite amazing how words just flow, and how the world makes sense again, the minute you start to write - anything.

Freecycle

Do you like free stuff?

Are you ok with not-so-new stuff?

If you've answered yes to the above, let me go on and introduce you to....Freecycle!

It's basically a web-based program that brings together people who have stuff to give away and those who would like to get stuff from people who have stuff to give away.

And it is all free.

All you have to do is indicate your interest, collect it, and viola! Free stuff!

I've seen DVD players, fridges, bed frames and more on offer on Freecycle now.

And I've gotten some knitting needles, yarn and a yoga mat for free since! And tomorrow evening, I'm going to go pick up a box full of books and magazines. Yes, for free.

It's the most amazing thing on earth! I'm addicted!

Check it out now!

I now believe there is such a thing as timeless architecture.

The Rose Seidler House is one such piece of art. Built in 1949, it still looks amazingly modern from the outside.

The inside looks great too, except because it's a historic house, the furniture are somewhat retro and I'm more than dubious as to whether they actually work.

But all in all, I've been utterly amazed by how such an old construction can still be something that is so charming now.

Ben Harper, musician, Sept. 2007:

“It’s not like you have to or can do everything, but do something. Do anything other than nothing.”

How often have we thought about giving up the fight?

Maybe we have already done so.

At various stages of my professionally and personal life, I have had to fight battles. Maybe it's because of the naive belief that I can somehow change the world, combined with the childlike confidence that with God on my side, I can make this world a better place.

I want to make a difference. I want people to pay more attention to human rights issues, to the environment, to poverty, to...stuff. But more often than not, my cries fall on deaf ears and I just want to give up.

But should I? Should I just put everything aside and not do anything?

Wouldn't that make life just a little meaningless?

Besides, just because I've got a passion doesn't mean I'll actually win the race right?

As a friend once told me during my moments of "I just want to curl up into a ball and rot in a corner", and as veteran muck-raker I F Stone explained it:

The only kinds of fights worth fighting are those you are going to lose, because somebody has to fight them and lose and lose and lose until someday, somebody who believes as you do wins.

In order for somebody to win an important, major fight 100 years hence, a lot of other people have got to be willing - for the sheer fun and joy of it - to go right ahead and fight, knowing you're going to lose.

You mustn't feel like a martyr. You've got to enjoy it.

Ben Harper quote from Relevant Magazine's Ideas that changed the world.

So I'm back home after three weeks of being back home.

That statement did not make sense did it, but neither does my mind at the moment.

I've been in Singapore, the country I spent the first 19 years of my life in for the last three weeks.

I'm now in Sydney, the country I've adopted for almost seven years now.

Where exactly is home? I don't know anymore.

They say home is where the heart is. But my heart lies both in Singapore and Sydney. How do I solve that dilemma?

How can a person be completely happy in two different places for two completely different reasons? But am I actually completely happy?

I love Singapore for the close network of friends I've got there and of course, the fact that my family is there. And on a more superficial level, the food, the shopping and the ease of convenience.

But I love Sydney too. I love my friends here, and I love the lifestyle I've been able to develop for myself here. It's a lifestyle that cannot be duplicated in Singapore.

So I choose Sydney. I choose to live and work in Sydney because of what I love about it.

And yet, I miss being Singapore. But when I'm in Singapore, I miss all that Sydney is that Singapore isn't.

What do I do? What do I choose?

Am I asking for too much? Am I simply wanting to have my cake and eat it? Or am I simply getting a little too emotional?

I yearn for the time when distance no longer matters. And that's what my belief in God promises (that, and much more, of course).

I believe that one day, God will take away all this pain in my heart. Remove all the yearning for being with people I hold dear to my heart. The day when I can be in Singapore and Sydney at the same time, but yet, in a completely different context.

But that day just seems so far away...