tacitae per amica silentia lunae: admist the friendly silence of the soundless moonlight

I am weary, and I a stranger,

Lead me to the land of angels.

Be my eyes in time of darkness,

Be my shield against host of faery,

Be my wings till I find my home.

Taken from Stone Maiden by Susan King

Monday, April 11, 2005

Today I just came home and slept the afternoon away...peace from all the worries that will be bothering me till the end of april. Sigh...I don't feel rested.

If for nothing else, I admire our fool hardiness for daring to actually take part in the SYF, to actually DARE to play such simple songs and not get them wrong, to play them in front of all the other JCs and secondary schools, and to actually hope to achieve something more than a COP. How can we be stupid enough to do this? And no one actually realises this, it seems the only two people worrying are Huimin and me.

When I graduate from JC, the biggest accomplishment I will have achieved will be to have weathered a year as the Chamber chairperson....I do believe never will I have to go through the embarrassment, and worry of being in charge of a CCA where 1) we never have enough people, 2) we don't have good players, and 3) APATHY. I have never exactly sat down and described the embarassment of having to perform with the rest of your CCA ( i.e. two people) in front of teachers, the school, etc....or the stress and guilt of giving a concert without having practised at all. Perhaps, one day, when I am finally out of this, I can really break down and recount everything..but for now...till July at least, all I can do is walk the fine line, and shut my senses to the horrible abyss below. Sigh...but there is still one faint light to guide me...huimin, thank you for always sharing these horrible experiences with me, for developing our thick skins during all our performances, when we try not to think about the awful reality, even though...moaning about it always makes me worse. Still...thank you.

michelle
7:47 PM

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Designer`*

| Yunna |

On life`*

And in the end,

it's not the years in your life that count,

but the life in your years.

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On |ove`*

And now I will show you the most excellent way:
If I speak in tongues of men and of angels, but have not love,
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy
and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love,
I am nothing.

If I give up all I possess,
and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love,
I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind;
it does not envy; it does not boast; it is not proud.
It is not rude; it is not self-seeking;
it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies,
they will pass away; where there are tongues,
they will be stilled; where there is knowledge,
it will pass away.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
but when perfection comes,
the imperfect disappears.

When I was a child, I talked like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

Now we see but a poor reflection,
then we shall see face to face.

Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain:

faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.

- I Corinthians, chapter 13 ve

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