Dad baptismFor my dad, the journey of his soul had just begun. But for me, I was on the run. In the opposite direction. Maybe being skeptical and faithless had become a habit. Sprawled in a dirt-rich ditch; that had been comfortable… and then complaining about the rancorous stench. Point is, if I like lying in my own shit, then I should shit less. But I love to eat and shit happens.

Being comfortable doesn’t mean I like it, but simply just too plain lazy to claw my way out. So I look up, lying there comfortably in my filth, and asked for divinity. Days passed. Weeks passed. The months and the years… Still no magic hand to pick me up, bathe me, wrap me in clean sheets and deliver meals in bed. So now, waist deep in shit (no, more shit had already piled up by now), the lamentations began. Sometimes, I wondered why I still said grace before I eat.

I turned my back. Back into the rancid air that I breathed so easily. And out came words of doubt, seeing only hyprocrisy, and beliving only in emptiness. Well, what goes up must come down. What goes in must come out. Shit in, shit out.

That’s what I thought on hindsight while writing this blog about my dad’s baptism yesterday. James asked me if I was happy for my dad, and he also said how truly happy the people at church looked. Immediately, I snapped that happiness can be feigned. Deep down, they’re probably very unhappy that’s why they came to God. The more pain they’re in, the more their ferventness is amplified.

Isn’t it that way? God is sought when things become too hard to bear and then forgotten when the good times roll. Like pain relieving cream. But good times don’t always roll so there’s always a need for God. Religion is Tiger Balm for mental and moral sprains.

Yet, having said all these, I choked back tears when I shook my dad’s hand to congratulate him on his baptism. I wanted to say something encouraging, something nice, but my voice got lost in thoughts and emotions. So I just looked him right in the eyes and shook his hands firmly. I hope he had heard all that I wanted to say.

Image hosted by Photobucket.comPerhaps in an attempt to save my soul, I adopted a pair of rabbits from John. The black speckled one is called Brownie (male) while the white one, female, is called Blackie (I don’t know why it’s called Blackie when the color is obvious).

I’m thinking of renaming them. Don’t know what to call them though. Any suggestions? I’m fighting the urge to call one Vodka and the other Gin. Brownie is much bigger than Blackie, but he is a big chicken. Blackie is much more calm and nonchalent about her surroundings. She may also be pregnant. Me will have to don my bunny ears and be a mid-wife soon.

They’re both relatively well-behaved but Joy is a terror. She got so excited seeing Brownie up close yesterday that she started foaming in her mouth! Everytime I try to let the bunnies run in the kitchen, she’ll pounce on them. Damn. Now I close the kitchen door while the rabbits run and let Joy observe them through the glass door. Have to read up on how to socialise them. If anyone has tips, that’ll be great!


14 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. chrisloup
    Oct 03, 2005 @ 10:27:23

    black russian and white russian obviously.. or a gin and tonic.. hah
    or a kopi and a cino..


  2. kykydiary
    Oct 03, 2005 @ 10:32:31

    “Sometimes, I wondered why I still said grace before I eat.”
    I like it when you do that although i am a buddhist. It is the little things we do that eventually brings us back to our faiths, no?


  3. kissingpanda
    Oct 03, 2005 @ 10:48:11

    星星、月亮 or 太阳 lor, mamasam…:-)))


  4. jesterjim
    Oct 04, 2005 @ 16:32:12

    the labbits are so cute~~~~~


  5. Anonymous
    Oct 05, 2005 @ 05:34:57

    Yin and Yang
    Ebony and Ivory
    Mike (MJ) and Liz (Liz Taylor)
    Happy for your dad even though I’m a buddhist.
    With Metta,…..Passerby


  6. nikeworth
    Oct 31, 2005 @ 09:23:50

    I think I’ve lost my faith in Him.


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