my recent appreciation for the psalms. so simple, so clear, so desperate, so direct. if i could write like the psalmist...
psalm 18:1-3.. and more!
I love you, LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies.
A good reminder here.. 25-26
To the faithful you show yourself faithful, to the blameless you show yourself blameless, the the pure you show yourself pure, but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.
psalm 57:1-3.. something to repeat in prayer over and over again.. just what we need.. have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy on us...
Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge.
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.
I cry out to God Most High, to God, who vindicates me. He sends from heaven and saves me, rebuking those who hotly pursue me-- God sends forth his love and his faithfulness.
psalm 73:28 (NASB).. nearness is what we desire.
But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the LORD God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.
psalm 32:3-5, for those who are thinking whether to confess or not...
When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.
Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD." And you forgave the guilt of my sin.
psalm 37:3-4.. just a beautiful promise.
Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.
psalm 26:1.. this is funny haha..
VINDICATE ME, LORD, for I have led a blameless life (picture a guy tearing off his sackcloth haha)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
jazz.
"Jazz is a musical art form that originated in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States around the start of the 20th century. Jazz uses improvisation, blue notes, swing, call and response, polyrhythms, and syncopation, and blends African American musical styles with Western music technique and theory." (wikipedia)
What kind of feeling that does give you? You see people jamming on the drums, the saxophone, trumpet, piano, you name it. Don't you want to dance?
that was what i saw and heard this sunday at slc on my way to study. it was so ironic it hurt. jazz band was practicing in the multipurpose room on the second floor of slc, and i was on my way up to the 3rd floor to hardcore study. it HAD to be jazz, didn't it. so much style, so much freedom and so much personality. yet what i was about to do had none of this. what was set ahead of me was a lot of struggling and stretching my mind and perseverance. currently my assignment is at 5/12, so i have 7 assignments left to do. i have 5 exams in 5 days and i'm absoltely behind.
the feeling of jazz music in the air almost made me laugh out loud.
What kind of feeling that does give you? You see people jamming on the drums, the saxophone, trumpet, piano, you name it. Don't you want to dance?
that was what i saw and heard this sunday at slc on my way to study. it was so ironic it hurt. jazz band was practicing in the multipurpose room on the second floor of slc, and i was on my way up to the 3rd floor to hardcore study. it HAD to be jazz, didn't it. so much style, so much freedom and so much personality. yet what i was about to do had none of this. what was set ahead of me was a lot of struggling and stretching my mind and perseverance. currently my assignment is at 5/12, so i have 7 assignments left to do. i have 5 exams in 5 days and i'm absoltely behind.
the feeling of jazz music in the air almost made me laugh out loud.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
picture perfect
white petals drifted in the air, covering the forested expanse like snowflakes. the winds were strong, lifting the petals of the nearby trees all over. i brushed my face and looked at the prize. it was garnished with flowers of many colours, but a single bunch of white flowers stood out in the mix of reds and blues. it gave me a sense of royalty.
the willows swayed in the winds, and the sound of them whistled in my ears. i took a step only to get a closer look. i've found the sword, power beyond imagination. it stood upright, proud and defiant, while the flowers bowed before it. i saw it wedged between stones and i already wished for it to have been in a better place, like the scabbard of a just warrior. yet it stood still, not like the constant motion of its surroundings. how strong i imagined it in my own hands.
i walked even closer, and soon the gleam of it caught my eye, almost till it hurt. i saw the etchings of an ancient language on the cold blade, and i knew not what it meant, but it didn't matter. its handle wrapped in soft leather, its blade shined bright as it ever did many years ago. i was in front of it now, hand itching to touch it, arms itching to lift it out of its home. i drew it. the blade rang in the air, and echoed far.
the winds stopped. petals drifted slowly to the ground, but i did not notice. intent on the blade, i ran my hands across the blade, feeling the smoothness of the metal, the rough etchings of the blade. it responded, whispering to me with a low humming voice. i couldn't resist but to hold it upright, wielding its full power with mine.
i saw it work, ringing steel running through the air, slicing through it all like soft butter. gentle, yet ferocious. deadly, yet merciful. a blade of old, wielded by the champions of their day, cowering not in fear, but rising to battle injustice, with no true companion except for their own blade.
the air was clear now. then i saw its scabbard, lying across a tree trunk, blended in the shadows of the trees. i don't blame them, the sword itself was captivating. i slid the sword into the modest scabbard, and let the steel sing in the quiet calm air.
i set off.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
and the bucket fell over. it was too late, so i could not catch it. i watched as the dirty water spilled to the ground, the now dirty ground. i wanted to snap it in half and throw it at a tree, or something. something to throw at.
no, i didn't do that. i went into the kitchen, searching the shelves below for a cloth to wipe it all dry. i couldn't find one. no, i had to use it. the mop, still damp from use, asked to be used again. the tool for the job, rendered the failure. there wasn't much choice now, i started to wipe, hopefully with strong, solid strokes, before the master returned to discover it all.
it was too late. i heard the door open, and i felt a voice running down the back of my neck as if it was already happening. it made me shiver, and my heart skipped a beat. i quickened my strokes, desperately eyeing for a second option. he walked in, and his first footstep into the room made a quiet *patter*, the sound of a bare foot stepping on too much water. i did not dare to look up, but his eyes bore into mine. i continued to stroke hard, not knowing or caring that the slender wooden mop would not be able to take the force. its hairs started to rub off, leaving the floor with damp hairs of mop residue. i didn't look.
he approached me, slow, steady, and carrying a presence with him. still i didn't look up, though i had such an urge to, to tell him what looked like a disaster was a simple misunderstanding. i didn't have that choice here, no i didn't. without a word, he took the mop from me, held it from the top. i cowered back, not knowing what to expect. i hated the detail that i saw, the whiteness of his knuckles, the flex of his strong forearms, the resolute power in his stature. like an eternity it took for him to take his first swing, and it landed hard. i fell to the ground, comforted by the companionship of flowing dirty water. i heard the patter again, but this time it was not from bare feet, but my bare body. it continued, and i couldn't get up, couldn't fight it, and i just let it fall.
my eyes were closed, but my ears were open, though bloodied. he stopped, and i only knew because i heard the mop fall to the ground. it bounced and rested on the ground, slender wood hitting hard hostile concrete. i could only guess what i felt like. i put my cheek on the cold floor.
the willows swayed in the winds, and the sound of them whistled in my ears. i took a step only to get a closer look. i've found the sword, power beyond imagination. it stood upright, proud and defiant, while the flowers bowed before it. i saw it wedged between stones and i already wished for it to have been in a better place, like the scabbard of a just warrior. yet it stood still, not like the constant motion of its surroundings. how strong i imagined it in my own hands.
i walked even closer, and soon the gleam of it caught my eye, almost till it hurt. i saw the etchings of an ancient language on the cold blade, and i knew not what it meant, but it didn't matter. its handle wrapped in soft leather, its blade shined bright as it ever did many years ago. i was in front of it now, hand itching to touch it, arms itching to lift it out of its home. i drew it. the blade rang in the air, and echoed far.
the winds stopped. petals drifted slowly to the ground, but i did not notice. intent on the blade, i ran my hands across the blade, feeling the smoothness of the metal, the rough etchings of the blade. it responded, whispering to me with a low humming voice. i couldn't resist but to hold it upright, wielding its full power with mine.
i saw it work, ringing steel running through the air, slicing through it all like soft butter. gentle, yet ferocious. deadly, yet merciful. a blade of old, wielded by the champions of their day, cowering not in fear, but rising to battle injustice, with no true companion except for their own blade.
the air was clear now. then i saw its scabbard, lying across a tree trunk, blended in the shadows of the trees. i don't blame them, the sword itself was captivating. i slid the sword into the modest scabbard, and let the steel sing in the quiet calm air.
i set off.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
and the bucket fell over. it was too late, so i could not catch it. i watched as the dirty water spilled to the ground, the now dirty ground. i wanted to snap it in half and throw it at a tree, or something. something to throw at.
no, i didn't do that. i went into the kitchen, searching the shelves below for a cloth to wipe it all dry. i couldn't find one. no, i had to use it. the mop, still damp from use, asked to be used again. the tool for the job, rendered the failure. there wasn't much choice now, i started to wipe, hopefully with strong, solid strokes, before the master returned to discover it all.
it was too late. i heard the door open, and i felt a voice running down the back of my neck as if it was already happening. it made me shiver, and my heart skipped a beat. i quickened my strokes, desperately eyeing for a second option. he walked in, and his first footstep into the room made a quiet *patter*, the sound of a bare foot stepping on too much water. i did not dare to look up, but his eyes bore into mine. i continued to stroke hard, not knowing or caring that the slender wooden mop would not be able to take the force. its hairs started to rub off, leaving the floor with damp hairs of mop residue. i didn't look.
he approached me, slow, steady, and carrying a presence with him. still i didn't look up, though i had such an urge to, to tell him what looked like a disaster was a simple misunderstanding. i didn't have that choice here, no i didn't. without a word, he took the mop from me, held it from the top. i cowered back, not knowing what to expect. i hated the detail that i saw, the whiteness of his knuckles, the flex of his strong forearms, the resolute power in his stature. like an eternity it took for him to take his first swing, and it landed hard. i fell to the ground, comforted by the companionship of flowing dirty water. i heard the patter again, but this time it was not from bare feet, but my bare body. it continued, and i couldn't get up, couldn't fight it, and i just let it fall.
my eyes were closed, but my ears were open, though bloodied. he stopped, and i only knew because i heard the mop fall to the ground. it bounced and rested on the ground, slender wood hitting hard hostile concrete. i could only guess what i felt like. i put my cheek on the cold floor.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
changes
it is the beginning of another term in waterloo again. it's been a week and a half being back now, and here are some changes that have come to pass:
1. new mcdougall has returned with a vengeance. on top of a new room assignment, the common areas have been rearranged to fit the summer atmosphere. if you're in town, come check it out.
2. our new line of courses.. thermodynamics 2, partial differential equations, introduction to manufacturing process, kinematic/dynamic design of machines, and fluid mechanics. everyone still follow me? our thermo prof seems to be the best one i think. our fluids prof is a FRENCH WOMAN.. her french accent is sometimes hard to follow, and it gets a bit annoying (though some ppl think it's hot, i don't). our calc prof looks like one of those old chinese women that push dim sum carts at yum cha. her harsh mandarin accent and her less than mediocre teaching makes for crappiness. the manufacturing process guy makes me feel like he is teaching an empty room.. and the way he writes randomly on the board reminds me of CP chou, one of our 1st year profs that draws arrows and circles ACROSS boards and.. mech guys know what i'm talking about hahaha. and our mech design prof is.. pompous and full of himself.
3. after "co-leading" men's cell with the boys in scbc, i'm back in waterloo and i'm going to be leading men's cell for ccf for the first time. i'm excited for it, and the group looks pretty decent. we're meeting up this TUESDAY MAY 17 at mcdougall, for those who are interested!
4. i had no internet for 2 weeks, and us at mcdougall have been relying on DEFAULT. it's like one bar and it disconnects like every minute. sorry to those that i've tried to talk to msn with these few days, i get internet back tomorrow.
5. GIG. GROUPS INVESTIGATING GOD. herm and i are gonna be doing that on fridays at lunch time starting tomorrow, with some classmates of ours. PRETTY DARN GOOD.
6. summer term, 3A. i'm an upper year now.
7. two of my close friends now have girlfriends.
8. i'm away from home now, and therefore i have peace and quiet, if i so seek it. 2 weeks ago from today, i had none.
9. still trying to solve the same problems of my own. heart is still hurting. i also miss people. (i guess that's not really a change)
10. my computer has been being stupid on me (yea i know that's not significant, i just wanted to make it to 10 things)
i can't wait to write a story.
victor
1. new mcdougall has returned with a vengeance. on top of a new room assignment, the common areas have been rearranged to fit the summer atmosphere. if you're in town, come check it out.
2. our new line of courses.. thermodynamics 2, partial differential equations, introduction to manufacturing process, kinematic/dynamic design of machines, and fluid mechanics. everyone still follow me? our thermo prof seems to be the best one i think. our fluids prof is a FRENCH WOMAN.. her french accent is sometimes hard to follow, and it gets a bit annoying (though some ppl think it's hot, i don't). our calc prof looks like one of those old chinese women that push dim sum carts at yum cha. her harsh mandarin accent and her less than mediocre teaching makes for crappiness. the manufacturing process guy makes me feel like he is teaching an empty room.. and the way he writes randomly on the board reminds me of CP chou, one of our 1st year profs that draws arrows and circles ACROSS boards and.. mech guys know what i'm talking about hahaha. and our mech design prof is.. pompous and full of himself.
3. after "co-leading" men's cell with the boys in scbc, i'm back in waterloo and i'm going to be leading men's cell for ccf for the first time. i'm excited for it, and the group looks pretty decent. we're meeting up this TUESDAY MAY 17 at mcdougall, for those who are interested!
4. i had no internet for 2 weeks, and us at mcdougall have been relying on DEFAULT. it's like one bar and it disconnects like every minute. sorry to those that i've tried to talk to msn with these few days, i get internet back tomorrow.
5. GIG. GROUPS INVESTIGATING GOD. herm and i are gonna be doing that on fridays at lunch time starting tomorrow, with some classmates of ours. PRETTY DARN GOOD.
6. summer term, 3A. i'm an upper year now.
7. two of my close friends now have girlfriends.
8. i'm away from home now, and therefore i have peace and quiet, if i so seek it. 2 weeks ago from today, i had none.
9. still trying to solve the same problems of my own. heart is still hurting. i also miss people. (i guess that's not really a change)
10. my computer has been being stupid on me (yea i know that's not significant, i just wanted to make it to 10 things)
i can't wait to write a story.
victor
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