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Emo Nemo + Werbal Womit

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Jan. 28th, 2011 | 01:53 am

This blogging thing feels new to me hahah. I don't know if anyone still reads this but.. the insides of my brain are grinding together like cogs in a machine that requires some serious lubrication. The talks are ALL DONE but because I was stupid enough to lose my laptop right before the last talk, all I want to do is sleep this week off. I always keep a zen face because I can see the funny in everything instead of getting all worked up when things aren't going right, like waiting an ENTIRE HOUR for 151 this afternoon or being lectured on the phone this afternoon by a complete stranger. But my laptop... I don't get it. Why do poor people lose their possessions? Why can't only rich people lose them? Grr okay la but if everyone has to lose something that pains them then I'd rather be a poor person losing expensive items than a rich person losing things that cannot be bought with money.


The hardest part about today was that when I realised my laptop was missing, I literally walked back and forth in panic deciding if I should re-trace my steps back to where I lost it or continue with what I had to do, i.e. get the theatrette ready for the talk. All I could do was call someone at the other location to help me check the toilet. I was all alone (everyone else was at the previous talk venue) and there was no time to be upset and no one I could show my distress to. Everything had to be ready in half an hour - somehow, there was this lady from the talk before ours who sensed that I was upset and came into the empty seminar room to hand me a bottle of water and a packet of tissue. I couldn't even thank her properly because I was feeling so sorry for myself.

I snuck out when the talk begun to re-trace my steps... nothing. At that point in time all I wanted to do was take the bus home and bury my head in my pillow, but I couldn't. So I went back to the talk and sat down in the back row, suppressing the urge to bawl. As a result of that I have this dull, throbbing sensation down the length of my nose now.

I'm so proud of the fact that I managed to retain my composure throughout the entire event and see everything through, with the help of my co-head, of course. Muahaha this is professionalism for you please. The thing about these people is that they're SO NICE and blameless that you can't bring yourself to show that you're having a terrible day in front of them. Of course they found out eventually and mobilized an entire search team - I couldn't be more grateful. That's fellowship for you.

Okay what else.. oh yesterday, while walking home from the MRT a lady approached me, so I took my headphones off and spoke with her. She asked me how to get home to Punggol so I offered to walk her to the bus stop to take the correct bus. As we walked, I couldn't help but notice that she was limping, so I slowed my pace and asked if I could carry her stuff for her. She said no, all she was holding was a can of abalone - they were on offer and this was the only branch that stocked them. Last can somemore! She seemed very proud with her purchase. From our conversation I found out that her daughter had told her about the offer, but because she was too tired from school, she'd asked her mother to go instead. Her mother, who suffers from arthritis and limps, was in Hougang buying a can of abalone at 10 pm on a rainy night. What. What kind of daughter would let that happen??

According to the lady, she had taken 3 different buses in order to get to Hougang. I was very confused. At first she said she'd taken the LRT, then she said she took 136 and changed services to 147. Hougang and Punggol.. are just 2 MRT stops apart. I asked her why she didn't just take the train and she replied "No.. No!! I can take the bus!! I took LRT just now!!' It wasn't till I got home that I figured out the oddness in that statement, but I really wish I had acted on it, maybe taken the bus together with her to Punggol just to make sure she got home safely. All the time I was telling her to take 82, but when bus 80 appeared in the distance she made a rush for it and I said "No, aunty, that's 80! You're taking 82!' Then she said 'Oh? 82 is it?', even though I'd reminded her about it only a while ago. She then chased me home, saying it wasn't safe for a girl to be out so late, so against my better judgment, I took her advice and left. After I'd crossed the road, I turned back only to see that she was gone. Omg she went to take 80 anyway... Wah I really wish I had sat there with her until 82 came. I never go all the way when I'm helping someone sigh.

The point of me relating this incident is.. even though the aunty was clearly.. I don't know, either amnesiac or suffering from dementia, she was very, very lucid wrt her faith. While we were speaking, I noticed that the way she spoke English was.. distinctly Catholic, if you know what I mean, so I decided to hazard a guess and ask her if she was Catholic. Taken aback, she answered that yes, she was and how I knew. I said I dunno, I just did. Somehow I just did. She then said 'Oh you must go to this and this parish, since you live here', which was correct. When she asked me what I was doing so late in school and I told her that I was involved in organizing a Catholic event, she seemed so excited. Truth be told, far, far more than I was. Even when she thanked me and told me to leave, her parting words to me were 'God bless you!' It would never occur to me to thank a stranger that way.. and then I thought back on the auntie whom I met at the Compass Point food court 2 years back, who also seemed to have a failing memory, who also said goodbye to me in that exact manner. I really.. was floored by how deep-rooted their faith must be, for it to be an instinctive act to wish a stranger well in that manner, even when their memory was slipping away. If I were suffering from dementia, the last thing that would remain would be the way to Meridien foodcourt lor so I can eat beef soup. Or how to turn on my DVD player so I can vegetate to dramas. Eh that was my life during the hols leh looks like dementia will not be much different wah I die

Second thing is that we Catholics (Christians??) believe that Jesus presents himself to us through those in need of help. I happened to meet both these aunties at times where my faith was at its weakest, and the conversations I had with them were things I really needed at that point in time. Yesterday during Brother Jude's talk he asked if there were times when we felt like we had encountered God. I can't pinpoint exactly why but after encountering these aunties, on both occasions, I felt shaken to the bone. I know they're real people la duh, but the type of feeling that I have when I reflect on these occasions is akin to meeting someone who no one else can see but you, and you don't realise that until someone else asks 'eh why are you talking to that empty space beside you?' Somewhat like meeting a harmless ghost who teaches you a valuable lesson.

Both are people whom I will never meet again, and yet I know that this will not be the last time I'm meeting someone who's like them, who needs my help or just a listening ear. I hope I never turn them down. Because through helping them, I've received so much more in return.

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Егор Дельков

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from: egdel
date: Oct. 8th, 2016 06:09 pm (UTC)

I snuck out when the talk begun to re-trace my steps nothing At that point in time all I wanted to d

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