| To God, and you, for all that it's worth, |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|01:40 am] |
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| |  scared | ] |
I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry I hurt you. I had no intention of doing so and I can't think why I did it. I don't even remember the full length of the conversation we had that Sunday. I talk to God each night, I read verses, claim the Word of God. but when I've settled down to pray, brought my full self to my knees, all I can say is, I'm so sorry.
Please, forgive me. We're two individuals who love each other but have been given an unusual set of circumstances. We've spent the most part of our relationship being apart. It's difficult, and it's been particularly grueling for me. To grow up, do well, and Be Somebody, all at the same time. I shouldn't have said what I did and for that, I am deeply sorry. I lost my head, lost my mind, but I know that isn't an excuse for all the hurt and injustice I've rendered you and your commitment to us.
I love you. For all you are and represent. For all we can be and all that we are. I have my flaws and am completely vulnerable to your every action. I know I've hurt you, and I still don't know why I uttered those words. The Good Lord forgives me but I'm not sure I do me. I love you, for this is a commitment I am willing to keep. But my tongue slid while I was struggling in Paris with no family, no friends, no God in a church to talk to. I am very sorry.
I pray you'll give us both a fair chance come January. To look at us Objectively through these few weeks and in January come to a verdict based on what you know we both are and can be. I love you. And these are empty words that pale in comparison to the cutting words I've said, I know. Not one day goes by when I don't regret every second of that weekend. Not one second ticks by without me hating myself desperately for not hanging on another 14 days. And not one prayer leaves my lips without ending in a "I am sorry" for all I've done to the only man I've given everything in my power for.
Vines
Not one grows without the pain,
be it fruit or dry, weathered grain.
First the root and last the bud,
each one birthed from pure, soiled rut.
For when green bursts through from earth,
each new breath, each cry of mirth,
therein lies the will to live,
yet lacking much in grace to forgive.
Throbbing, pure, a soul to breathe,
this gift from GOD we each receive.
You've picked the grapes and nicked the leaves,
think you know best and do as you please.
But with each Spring my roots grow wise
and from every wreck, by GOD, I rise.
So now await for my full bloom,
my audience I'll impress while there's still room
to squeeze yourselves and clamour my story
while I burst out in wizened full glory.
For those who mocked and stole my berries
p'blicized my faults from nooks and crannies,
I still stand though the journey's been long,
for all that I am,
I am Cassie Chiong.
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| if only gyming was graded |
[May. 22nd, 2009|03:05 pm] |
I'd probably work that much harder to achieve a better figure. Not to say I'm entirely shapeless now, but to tone my very bulky arms and shoulders that can now hold water in various crevasses when I flex. Hit the gym yesterday after a 3 week hiatus, did many ab exercises but they don't even hurt - muscles probably disappeared after prolonged lack of use. Gym releases endorphins so depressed emo people, please stop being anorexic and go exercise without your eyeliner and mascara.
I don't like to livejournal anymore. I just keep it to remind myself how stupid I can be when I feel nostalgic and look back at my former self which isn't very different from a drunken one. Awesomezxzxzx.
I hate it when people use my knives without my permission. I hate it even more that they are so careless with them. DO NOT. TOUCH. MY. KNIFE SET, PEOPLE. Palette knife got dry humped against a 250degC grill today with burning mozzarella by Russian teammate. Angry. |
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| scratches. |
[May. 21st, 2009|12:41 am] |
Remember how I used to be so afraid of you leaving me, of you walking away?
But today, that all ends. All.
Today, I dare you to.
Go on, leave.
Leave. |
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| please, be silent. |
[Apr. 16th, 2009|08:05 pm] |
Remember how I told You that I think my life is different. That it's the kind where people will use as an example to their living, where I will lose more than normality can fathom, where I will challenge more than Sunday School has raised me.
I live in constant fear that You will take olivier away from me, just so I can stand up - because I know I can, to the person next to me, to say that, I can understand how you feel. And I fear Youw ill make my life a living hell, just so I can be a tool that You can use to help someone else find their way. I know I should be, I know I should be all that You have created me to be - Yours. But my selfishness pleads pardon on what You can hold ransom.
I know I can live without him, figuratively speaking. I know I can stand for everyone else to see I have two feet and an iron clad heart to support. But what if I don't want to? What if I want to be normal. To be able to indulge in pretty shoes and leather handbags? To have a C cup rack and 22-inch waist? To splurge while away from parental supervision? To not have to strive and struggle constantly for an average of 90% to get that Gold Diploma, to prove to my parents I can BE somebody even though I'm not doing Medicine.
What DOES it take, to be Somebody. Somebody to You. Somebody to daddy. Somebody that doesn't have to fight to be Something today.
God, I love You. I really do.
I just don't know what it takes. for You to really love me back.
p.s. pleasetakecareofme.
please. |
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| he was 34. |
[Mar. 24th, 2009|02:31 pm] |
| [ | Mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
I just had a disaster exam and cut about the rest of the classes today that's why I'm here with Internet!
like anyone actually eyeballs this but HEY i like to reminisce to myself :D
Had a couple of interviews and lost a few friends.
Grew up quite a bit and broke a few ties.
Prayed a lot more and cared a lot less.
I'm much harder now, judging by how absolute i am with people I find incredibly stupid and pathetic. Yahoo I'm becoming like you now! now I know why you enjoyed being such a royalmotherfucker. it actually feels good. well, not in the OH I'M SO MIGHTY way but more like how a Rhino feels when looking at a pebble it just drove in the dirt.
teehee i'm so feellowsofical.
i gots a job. i GAWTS A JAWB. a boob job. a nose job. heehee
naw i'm not telling.
i like being mysterious.
~~~zing*zing*zing~~~ |
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| kitchen. a la carte, lunch. |
[Mar. 1st, 2009|08:04 pm] |
OKAY i know i promised photos but the bloody page won't load.
Just so you know, i'm alive and about, cannot access my email, my mac is not working properly, anddddddddddd
my period is lateeeee.
I have a new name. Cassie 'Edge' Jones.
hahahahaha don't ask me why, i was given that name by my classmate, Vladimir (he's russian) and it's stuck. the 'edge' was given by Sofia (from El salvador) because i'm always edgy. and stressed. and basically being myself.
Also, i am Cassie Crowne. according to the west germans.
heehaww amused :D
is my surname so difficult to pronounce? |
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| Assignment. |
[Feb. 11th, 2009|11:10 pm] |
Today we were given an assignment/task in Organisational Behaviour class that we had to present when called upon.
How do you see yourself in 10 years time (I will be 30.)?
This is what I put down on my script, word for word:
-Director of Rooms/Marketing.
-Divorcee with two children.
-53kg
The other girls in my class had 'Married with 1/2/3 kid(s)'.
Right there and then, I realised. If I want to be the Regional Director of Four Seasons/Intercontinental/St. Regis/Ritz Carlton ASIA, I have to foresake everything else.
Here goes.
And I know, I'm almost there.
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| because Your Throne is Up There and I'm Down Here |
[Feb. 7th, 2009|01:21 am] |
I love You.
And I know the Root of my problem is the lack of You. The reason why I'm always upset with Olivier, always arguing with Joshua and always fighting. With Everyone. It's my fault, that much I know.
But I don't want to open my Bible to start reading about You, to reconcile with You, to Be with You.
Simply because You're so difficult to attain and Maintain,
yet so incredibly easy to lose.
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| the music plays on for only two |
[Jan. 31st, 2009|10:44 pm] |
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School has started and it's been just fabulous! Kitchen is amazing, the chefs are incredibly particular - just the way I like them. in the first week alone i've punctured two thumbs, sliced a fingernail and nail bed neatly in two almost-severed-pieces-joined-by-the-bone, and have 3 huge bruises on each forearm. Disgusting, I know, but I LOVE KITCHEN. running the operation, have the chef fire the old student-chef-in-charge because, to quote him, "you guys. what will you do without Cassie? you cannot do without her. without her, you guys are Finished. Over. you need her." hahahahah YES! Wish Olivier would feel that way too, though. Everyday I wonder why he saw me when a thousand other girls saw him. When he asked me out to go for dinner with him at the Japanese restaurant, I was incredibly excited. It's so unlike him! To do something special for the both of us. Sometimes, I pretend I feel really cold (which isn't hard, given the amount of snow around me), just so he'll hold me.
So close to reaching that famous Happy Ending,
Almost believing this one's not Pretend. |
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| A collection of random thoughts and a German Keyboard |
[Jan. 8th, 2009|09:54 am] |
You'd think, that after so many complaints about previous boyfriends, I'd be happy with this one.
I am, actually. I just can't seem to shake that uneasy feeling about me every time we're alone together. I don't know if it's because my heart is full. By creating mental images of a Possible Olivier with me as I go about my daily life, I think I may have gradually and unconsciously placed him too out of perspective. I've been looking forward to seeing him so much that I feel somewhat deflated, now that I am here.
He's different. He looks different, smells different. But the way he holds me is still the same. Or maybe I just hate it that now his legs are slightly slimmer than mine.
My right eye hurts.
As Mingling very aptly put it, 'I am short-sighted after all; I don't always see that things which seem far away are actually within reach.'
It's high time I left Barker and it's entirety behind me. I used to think I'd always be attached to that place I called my Refuge, my Safe Spot. But as I left the staffroom, with my T Pass out of order and with Ben, whom I've always assumed would be a somewhat permanent (oxymoron, I know) fixture there, I felt Closure. To know that when my last batch, the sec2s whom I've taught the longest are now sec4, leaves, there will be nothing else in store for me gives it a note of resounding finality. Indeed, the staff (or those that remain) will always be a good reason to return. But now I see why I shouldn't take the Teaching Path, why the uncertainty of pursuing a degree with MOE was vital in pushing me overseas, to grow up.
I've realised the one thing that held me back so strongly was being close to 4 out of 5 levels in the school. I've taught almost all the geography students from sec2 and 3, so that's 2 levels down. Sec4s have been selectively fun due to friendly connections, and the sec5s have always been exciting to be around simply because the age gap wedged between us can at best be negligibe.
Back then, when I was asked what I was doing, I would hesitate and say, "I'm a teacher.". That sheepish answer would almost inevitably be met by incredulous gasps because I simply do not fit the "teacher teacher" template. Finally, I resorted to say that I "teach". The verb was far less intimidating than the weighty connotations of the noun.
That year has now passed, with it's characteristic ugliness of teaching in a boys' school; grief aplenty, peppered with frustration, bitter disappointment and exasperation. Tears were commonplace but mostly in the solace of my Desk No. 6, hidden behind stacks of unmarked papers, apology letters from 3b2, detention essays and multiple post-its of To Dos. Too often have I wanted to throw in the towel and leave. Too many times have I been driven up the wall and past my mental-emotional capacity. But each time I storm down the stairs and want with all my heart to chuck my pass and renege my contract, I change my mind. I'd pass the classrooms and I'd hear not-so-discreet 'madam!'s and sheepish grins aplenty. These random calls and just hearing my name through those doors were enough to keep me going. To know that with them, I am.
I never had the chance to thank my students for all the joy and yes, the grief they brought me. It was the pain in teaching them that made me realise they weren't just bits and pieces that made up my Work. They were Lives. Lives that I suspect I will always, always love. Lives that could and probably always will exasperate those around them, but Lives that should never, never be given up on.
Now that I'm moving on, what next?
Frankly, I don't know.
But I do know that when I hesitate if I'm asked what I do or did, it's because I still can't believe it has come to an end. |
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