The Flu and other appalling thoughts

So it finally hit The Office today, amidst a flurry of anxiety and annoyance - the former worrying about one's infection and the latter ticked off at having to cover another. Aren't we just all so self-centred - yes, it disgusts me. And no, I am not exempt from this poor display of the condition called humanity or, depending on how you see it, lack thereof.

In other news, am appalled at let's call him The C - I do not believe there could be anyone more telling of how a man thinks - with his monster. It's utterly vomit-inducing worthy imagery, when you see the action unfold before your eyes. So much for respect.

Sleep beckons, once again. Let me bring with me my self-pitying state of being - of wishing I could be somewhere else, doing something else, but here and this.

claire.

Reconsidering among other things

It is quite a task - to squeeze in an entry in five minutes. That gargantuan task is my attempt. Surprised I am still alive, literally speaking, after seven consecutive days of sleeping at 4am or 5am or (on one particular day) six am. All in the name of toiling for a huge nameless bank (confidentiality obligations loom). No wonder, looking into the mirror this past week, thought I didn't look very human. Sunken in cheeks, pale complexion and more pronounced eye bags. And most of all, a deeply resigned look that spells "What I was I thinking in my last post?".

Honestly, I could do this, but if you multiply it by ten times the work load, then I say I re-consider.

Six minutes is up - I who live by a three minute time block. So till next ranting.

In other news: Phnom Penh! Fascinating respite awaits.

xoxo.
claire.

Remembering

I often recall why I became a lawyer.

Childhood 'teacher' ambition plus embarrassing 'teaching imaginary classes' episodes aside, I did not in my wildest imagination think that I would grow up to be a lawyer.

The recollection process is, I believe, necessary, to constantly remind myself that the Lord has put me here, for this season (which is becoming very long drawn out but, at the moment, I am not uncomfortably uncomfortable).

I was walking closely with the Lord when I submitted my application for Law School. My second choice was Accountancy, which I genuinely (bless my ignorant soul) believed was where my other passion lay. Prayer after prayer, came silence, then more prayer, and more silences; but the day I sent in that large, brown envelope, I had a quiet, deep conviction in my heart. No audible voice sounded, no mind-blowing coincidences occurred and no Bible verse revelation descended. Yet, because I whispered quietly, repeatedly to Him, "Lord, whatever Your will is, I will follow. If I get into Law, Father, I know it will be Your will for me.", I knew then that His will would prevail.

Then came The Interview, for entry into one of the most prestigious (I believe till today, the best) law firm in this country. Little did I know that the interviewers were one of the two most feared Partners, and little did I know that I would not get my first choice and I would live to thank the Lord every moment of my life for it. Persistently, my first love then was Litigation. In every application to every firm, that was my first - and only - choice. Us, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ones, have been, sub-consciously or otherwise, educated to believe that a lawyer is only a lawyer if he or she is a Litigation lawyer. Corporate counsel, what do they know?

So I say the Lord has a funny sense of humour. He made me a Corporate Lawyer, specialising in financial services work. Dryest of the Dry Legal Work, which I always believed (and still do). I say, 'He made me', because I believe He placed me here. I prayed every step of the way, asking Him for guidance, for His hand to show me, for Him to open doors, and to place me with a mentor He has chosen for me.

Five years, loads of all-nighters, hard work, shed tears, stressed-out weekends, backstabbing colleagues later, and with the benefit of that wonderful thing called hindsight, I say without a shadow of a doubt that I would have it no other way. True, I slogged, I cried and I fought, but also, I learnt (a lot - bless my boss), I laughed and I forged some lovely friendships. Most importantly, I felt this moulding process was necessary, as He was refining me, shaping me, and making me more like Him. I always thought, 'I wouldn't last a minute in this place, but with the Lord in me, I could last forever.' (Alright, not that I want to be here for a lifetime.)

Funny, don't you think, that you plod along, knock on God's door (sometimes a lil too loudly, in anger, in baffled silences and in fear) and scream and lose your temper at Him, thinking, blaming and asking God, 'why, why, why', you settle and mellow into a place where you see things from His secret place, where it's like a cloud has fallen away and, finally, you see the light streaming through, so brightly, so strongly, and so unmistakably. And you tell the Lord, 'Thank You, Father, for seeing it at the beginning.'.

I have three million (that's a tad exaggerated) other thoughts on my mind and it's a pity that I don't have the time to share them as and when I'd love to in the course of the week. It's a price I pay for being in this profession. But it's always like this, with things worth fighting for.

xoxo.
claire

nb: My earlier posts (which suggest I have no passion for my job) seem inconsistent with this one. The entries reflect my thoughts on good and bad days at work. Bottomline: I enjoy what I do, but I am hungry for more; not in the ambitious, corporate ladder-climbing sense, but more of what He wants to do in my life. More of a 'Lord, where do I go from here?' kind of reflection.

Robbed

I don't know about you, but I feel completely, absolutely and utterly (I know these mean the same thing, please indulge me) Robbed Everyday. Of Time.

Fatigue - it's indescribable. You toil, and you toil. And you toil. All for that very rich corporation, as part of their wonderful plan to get richer. And you toil somemore, and you wonder what you are toiling for.

No wonder He says rest can only be found in Him. To Him who can keep us from falling.

claire.

Passion

I love John Piper when he calls out for 'passion in the pulpit, passion in prayer and passion in conversation', what he calls deep feelings in worthy forms from God besotted hearts and minds. For far too long indeed, we see 'thin whipped-up emotionalism' all around.

A frivolous picture, I recognise. Put bluntly, I have a passion for pralines, and I wish that that passion may be extended to every area of my life - from my job and my walk with the Lord, to relationships, simple daily conversations and the mundane things of life.

I envy my friends who know so clearly what they want in life (from a very earthly perspective, I'd admit). For example, my friend W knows he loves being a lawyer and would have it no other way. My friend K knows deep down that she was called to something higher, something more meaningful than being a teacher (albeit what most of us would call a very noble profession) - and for that, she has been prayerfully called to set up a social enterprise. She is a closest, best-est friend of mine, a blessing and a glimpse of heaven, and I wish and pray all the best for her, that He will show her through this just how much He loves her.

Passion - it is a lovely thing. Call it workaholism (in the context of a job, which occupies most of one's waking hours), if you will. But I declare it beautiful. It is a rare thing to come by, to wake up each morning, knowing with a deep certainty that this is what the Lord has called you to do; knowing that each day may be difficult, but because you love so much what you do, and you know this is what you are called to do, each day whizzes by and you see nothing but His grace and His hand in all things and with all people you meet. Would you not give it all to hold a job like that?

I know - 'in this world, [we] will have trouble but [He] has overcome the world!' I agree; cannot agree more. Without His grace, I would not be what I am today. And I know I have no grounds to complain; not in the least bit. In this financial and economic climate, I should be screaming at the top of my lungs and thanking God for even holding a job. Yet I am ashamed to admit that discontent has crept in, slowly and insidiously, but surely. There is this nagging doubt that I cannot push away, that tells me that there is something more.

At the moment, I don't have an answer, but I will share in another post what He spoke with me about, which blew me away.

claire.

Of Chirashi and Soul Baring and Chinatown

I trotted off to lunch expecting a yummy king crab sandwich (despite its very unforgiving price of ten sweet bucks) and a welcomed respite from The Fish Tank (a.k.a the office) albeit one that might be filled with awkward moments. After all, one must not expect conversations to flow smoothly with friends you hardly meet.

Yet the Lord surprises me unceasingly, that perhaps I ought to cease being so.

I ended up polishing off chirashi and some lovely Japanese sticky rice that's tinged with sweetness and blended with an amazingly light matcha taste. What you see above is from Kuriya at Raffles City but I had to put that down for oomph (always acknowledge your sources; a very C.Y.A thing, yeah?) You're most welcome, The Hokkaido Sandwich & Sashimi Deli at The Sail@One Marina (where are my advertising fees now?) That's not it, of course. Well - I don't believe I have shared so much with someone I meet so little, for so long.

The Lovely Friend is struggling with her walk in the Lord and, to be honest, so am yours truly. Some part of me feels like I could not give up, yet on so many truly heart wrenching and hair tearing occasions, I genuinely almost did. So I was in no position to encourage, but it was refreshing, to know and share that we are all the same inside despite living our separate lives and not finding the time to keep in touch. Because we once travelled and spent so much time in close proximity, sharing our thoughts, our ways of lives, our habits and our walk with Him, I believe that that intensity of what we shared has stayed unconsciously with us; and when we meet again eons later, we could simply pick up where we left off. Surely that is an experience that one must admit to being blessed with?

Thank you, my Lovely Friend, for a very wonderful lunch; I want you to know that the Lord loves you, despite how it may seem. I know that I could not and can never let go of Him, because despite the numerous perceived disappointments, seemingly endless silences and drought of his perceived absence, He has delivered me through some of the darkest valleys of the shadow of death and, for that, I could never deny Him. I yearn for the day that I can lift up my hands again to the heavens and yell loudly, happily, and with every ounce of my strength and being, and heart and soul, that Jesus Christ is Lord of all and He loves me so very much; at the moment, it is head knowledge and partially heart knowledge, but I know the day will come when it will be head knowledge and fully heart manna. Till that day arrives, I will hang on and hope in Him, my sole blessed hope.

In other news, I think I actually rather like Chinatown. Had dinner there tonight; not on my own free will naturally. Had to take into account the poor pocket which is suffering from my overdose of SKII. Ever since I got addicted, the Poor Skin cries out to my soul when the bottles are drying up. So Very Thrifty Me marched down to Swanston (this perfect lil shop in the heart of Chinatown that sells 'em at a whopping 25% discount) to enlarge said hole in the pocket. Only to be told by Lady Boss with Perfect Skin that I look very tired - 'your job must be sooo stressful. Come, I recommend you this Korean brand eye gel, oh and this one too. The first one, use in the morning, and the second one, use at night. I used it for 7 years; ahh look at my skin.' I trotted off into the night, with four SKII products and three Korean (I don't even understand the wriggly instructions on the bottles) products. What of the Save Money at Swanston Campaign?

In other other news, it is 5.10am here and I am still here typing this. Man, I need to sleep before the eye cream ceases to work. !!!! Oh alright, forgive my ranting, please. It is the wee hours, they and I just don't agree.

xoxo.
claire

nb: C.Y.A. means cover your a** in legal-speak; that which I'm required to do daily.

Ironic

An old man, turned 98; he won the lottery and died the next day;
It's a black fly, on a Chardonnay;
It's a death row pardon, two minutes too late;
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day;
It's a free ride when you're already late;
It's the good advice that you just didn't take;
And who would have thought it figures?

Mr Play-it-Safe was afraid to fly;
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye;
He waited his whole damn life, to take that flight;
And as the plane crashed down;
He thought 'isn't this nice?';
And isn't it ironic, don't you think?

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, when you think everything's okay and everything's going alright;
Life has a funny way of helping you out, when you think everything's going wrong and everything's blowing up in your face.

A traffic jam, when you're already late;
It's like ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife;
It's meeting the man of my dreams, and meeting his beautiful wife;
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
A little too ironic; yeah I really do think.

It's like rain on your wedding day;
It's a free ride when you're already late;
It's the good advice that you just didn't take;
And who would have thought it figures?

Life has a funny way, of sneaking up on you;
Life has a funny way, of helping you out, helping you out.

- Alanis Morissette

Letting (The Curls) Go

So I am beyond recognition now. The Little Brother walked right past me today, and at the last moment before we parted ways, let out a yelp "it's you! I could not recognise you - it's the hair."

Be forewarned: this is a terribly frivolous post.

I could not, and still cannot, get past the loss of my curls - of six sweet years. Pardon me while I grieve. They were my babies! (Oh alright, that is not a very flattering shot, but the best one I've got that showcases the length.) Concerned colleagues asked what *made* me straighten my hair - you know, in that tone - perhaps expecting me to burst into tears, sobbing that I had lost my boyfriend and thus my life.

Unfortunately I had to disappoint the lot of them and calmly reply that I sat down in The Hair Guru's Chair thinking and believing with all my heart that I was there for a hair cut but as I looked around the salon, with the immense weight (oh they felt like gold) of The Curls pulling towards my shoulders, and the long straight haired ones happily flicking their thin sticks of hair (which were calling out to me to please have them too), I calmly told The Hair Guru that I would like to straighten my hair. All this, despite the look of sheer horror on he who curled my hair four months ago (with me telling him then that 'the curlier the better' so The Curls can stick around for a lovely year). So there. No grand sob story, I'm afraid.

Well, tending to concerned colleagues aside: it could be in a very metaphorical way some sort of release; of letting go of the baggage that has been with me all these six years. I look eons younger, fresher and lighter. It's as if a load of my past has fallen away. Honestly, I do not like how I look with straight hair, yet I felt that each time I look into the mirror (I shock myself without fail as I wonder who's this strange stranger?) I am reminded that the Lord has a new self that I need to discover; that He yearns to reveal in me. So far am I from the Lord right now, it is amazing that He bothers revealing Himself in ways so small yet so divine.

I need to cease typing now because sleep beckons. In other news, the usual ten minute drive along nicoll highway took all of an entire hour today. It's bloody unbelievable. Note to self: ERP does not deter crazy car-philes which this sunny island is infested with; sleep less or sleep earlier, please.

Excuse me while I attempt (hopefully, finally successfully) to wake early.

claire.