life in fast forward mode..

emotions on a stand still.

that won’t stop me from living life to the fullest ;)

because i’ve been doing a little bit of this,

not to forget, this as well,

(nah! the picture of my date for formal dinner)

and of course! a lot of this,

but the highlghts were of course this,

(spot me!)

A BLOCK INITIATION

and definately this!

(if only looks could kill)

MEDICINE Dinner and Dance 08′

because pictures only can say this much :)

anura!

a good begining.

a great start.

YLLSoM is certainly better with your presence. Thank you anura :) this post is for youu!

here’s to many many good times ahead.

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something
for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. ‘I wowed ‘em,’ he
later told his father, Bruce. ‘It’s a killer. It’s the bomb. It’s the
best thing I ever wrote..’ It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was
driving home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce
Road in Pickaway County  and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the
wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores  framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the
family portraits in the living room. ‘I think God used him to make a
point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,’
Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their
son’s vision of life after death. ‘I’m happy for Brian. I know he’s in
heaven. I know I’ll see him.’

Brian’s Essay: The Room…
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in
the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in
libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.

But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and
seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I
drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one
that read ‘Girls I have liked.’ I opened it and began flipping through
the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the
names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog
system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment,
big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder
and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began
randomly opening files and exploring their content.

Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and
regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone
was watching.

A file named ‘Friends’ was next to one marked ‘Friends I have
betrayed.’ The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird
‘Books I Have Read,’ ‘Lies I Have Told,’ ‘Comfort I have Given,’ ‘Jokes
I Have Laughed at .’ Some were almost hilarious in their exactness:
‘Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.’ Others I couldn’t laugh at: ‘Things
I Have Done in My Anger’, ‘Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My
Parents.’ I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer
than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had
lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each
of these t housands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed
this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
signature.

When I pulled out the file marked ‘TV Shows I have watched’, I
realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed
tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the
file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by
the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked ‘Lustful Thoughts,’ I felt a chill
run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to
test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An
almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one
must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to
destroy them!’ In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t
matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at
one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a
single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it
as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying
sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title bore ‘People I Have Shared the
Gospel With.’ The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than
three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it
contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they
hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my
knees and cri ed. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one
must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched
helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t
bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have
to read every one? F inally He turned and looked at me from across the
room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that
didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and
began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could
have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with
me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at
one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign
His name over mine on each card. ‘No!’ I shouted rushing to Him. All I
could find to say was ‘No, no,’ as I pulled the card from Him. His name
shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich,
so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with
His blood. He gently took the card b ack. He smiled a sad smile and
began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did
it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last
file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, ‘It is finished.’ I
stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
There were still cards to be written.

‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’-Phil.
4:13 ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever
believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.’

Today marks the end of a very exhausting, fun, amazing, eye-opening week in FWOC. The day ended with a grand ceremony, singing the hall anthem, shaking hands with everryyyy senior at hall, and then a great big bash thrown by our seniors, BBQ, and a mini zouk out too :) sweaty bodies and the smell of BBQ food in our hair, we jumped, danced, screamed, and cheered as a team, an orientation group, and now, dare i say, a family!

It’s been one heck of a ride, and haha, its only the begining! hall life is starting to be a great new experience which I am more than happy to be apart of. of course in the begining i had my reservations – how am i going to manage studying medicine and maintain points in hall? People here don’t seem to sleep, and there are ALWAYS activties at any hour, any day, any where, be it in the block lounge, MPSH, out of campus for supper, and even in your room corridors. but i guess only time can tell, since classes have yet to commence, i’ll just enjoy the ride, and hopefully will still be sane enough to not go mad and fail med school *gulps*

my room is just nice. i’m doing my own laundry now, cleaning etc. andd it’s been okay so far, maybe cause classes havent started so i don’t really feel the pressure. campus is HUGE. like.. HUGE. and i’m constantly getting lost. too many buses and i’m like.. wth. not only buses, mrts as well! ooo and library is a nerd’s dream come true. hahha.

i miss home dearly! i’m sorry for the lack of pics! but i don’t have a cam/cam phone, but as soon as i can i will post up pics okay. you all try to imagine lah. ahahha.

the blood that runs through me is now.. blue :)