Monday, 30 July 2018


Everytime someone asks me how’s life in Bintulu, I unwittingly mention that I’m doing well and also that Bintulu is a very quiet place (not that quiet is bad, in fact, I think it has been very good for me). Then people inadvertently ask if “I’ve picked up anything new?” and my reply would be, “gosh, where are your manners, you can’t go around referring to people as things..”

Jokes aside, I have not been very productive due to several reasons: I just subscribed to Netflix and the fact that I’ve watched close to nothing prior to Netflix. So there’s a lot of catching up to do and now, I kinda have time. Terribly unproductive- but then again, I realize that the preoccupation with productivity seems a better fit for them city-lot than us here in the provinces. I myself am adapting and seem to have adopted a more phlegmatic approach to life these days (could be a bad thing, I don’t know).


I’m doing this thing where I actively attempt to instill some discipline into my life at the moment- some miniscule effort to defy the flesh man (perhaps one day, this little rebellion may turn into a coup, who knows?). So I’ve started going to the gym, trying to sleep well, trying to eat healthy, trying not to spend too much time on Netflix, etc. In other words, self-improvement. Then there’s this pile of books at home, purchased online in a moment of passion now left lying unattended. Part of the guerilla warfare against the self is to complete reading some of these books.

Anyway apparently there’s a Japanese word that describes this pile of books that people buy but never read.

Tsundoku (Japanese: 積ん読) is acquiring reading materials but letting them pile up in one's home without reading them. The first half of tsundoku comes from the word tsundeoku 積つんでおく, which means "to pile things up and leave them." The second half (doku 読どく) comes from dokusho 読書どくしょ which means "reading."

What a brilliant word- we should have an English equivalent. Or perhaps we could borrow it into the English language.

Anyway, here are the books on my Tsudoku list; I’m fairly certain I won’t get around to finishing all of them by the end of this year, but I’ll at least try.

  • Lord of the Flies by William Goldring
  • The day the world came to town by Jim Defede
  • Unscripted by Ernie Johnson
  • Living out Loud by Craig Sager
  • The curious incident of the dog in the night time by Mark Haddon
  • Brave new world by Aldous Huxley
  • Pilgrim at tinker creek by Annie Dillard
  • The living by Annie Dillard
  • Unfinished tales of Nnumenor and middle earth by Tolkein
  • The children of Hurin by Tolkein
  • The call by Os Guinness
  • Siddartha by Hermann Hesse

Monday, 5 March 2018

Bintulu musings

It doesn't feel like it, but it's been 3 months here in Bintulu. Considering that my assignment is only 13 months, 3 months is pretty significant- in other words, I'm almost a quarter through the stint in Bintulu. 

One of my earliest thoughts was that 13 months could be as short or as long as I want it to be- it could be terribly significant, or not. 3 months in- it feels a little bit of both, thankfully, it feels more significant than not.


Not gonna lie, work has been tough but I'm learning to love the hustle. Some days I just dread it, but I'm learning to realize that a little stress does a whole lot of good when channeled correctly. Keeping the positive mental attitude through the hustle however, does drain the juices.


It's weird to have this feeling of being blessed beyond measure; there's so much good that is happening for me at the moment that I've done nothing to merit. I don't understand it at times. It almost feels unfair and unnatural that things turn out the way it does for me and not for others- I really didn't do much at all. I'd like to blame God for all this goodness.


Here's one of those recommended songs by Spotify based on my musical playlist: You matter to me from Waitress the Musical

Sunday, 31 December 2017

Year 2017

Not a single post in 2017. Well, not till now. Thought I'd sneak in a quick post before the new year to keep this blog fresh. 


It's weird that work is (and I suspect, also for the large majority of young adults) the major deciding factor for what happens in their life, in a year. Not that work is a bad thing, in fact, it is a very good thing. I will quickly admit however, that as a young un' (not too long ago), I always thought that work wouldn't feature as much as it does in how life plays out. Again, nothing wrong with this, but it sure makes a boring highlight reel for one's new year reminiscing. 

I had to tidy up my CV some weeks ago (again, work related) and couldn't help thinking that some of these things I've got listed down is pretty impressive. Boring, but impressive. Couldn't help thinking that I'm a very blessed person to have had such a wonderful and enjoyable working experience. Not many people enjoy their work as much as I do. So I guess where I'm going with this is that I'm thankful this year end. 

Some recent Christmas thoughts: 
  • Christ came to us, but his own did not receive him. 
  • This is not by his own doing, but by design.
  • Humans however, are not absolved from wrong doing because we rejected Christ.
  • He wasn't a Christ that they wanted in the past, and neither is he a Christ that is wanted now
I know this because, I can very easily tell that my sinful self doesn't want this Christ. I suspect this wasn't very different in the past: he came neither with the pomp of a savior nor the splendor of a king; nothing worth a second look. And today, I can understand that people don't deem Him worth a second look either- He's really not the type of Savior they're looking for. Yet He is. 


Happy new year everyone! (a disjointed post, but I guess not writing in a year does that to you)

Monday, 15 February 2016


Seated by the pier, they watched as the night sky filled with light- streaks of blue and red blazing across the expanse, effervescent yellow sparkles raining to the ground. The Wilsons cozied up against each other; New Year’s fireworks are always a sight to behold, even on a cold winter’s night. 

George whispered to Martha, “Nights like these are a gift.” 

“Mmm.. they are,” Martha agreed as she nestled her head on his shoulders. 

They sat in silence observing the fireworks in the distance. Little Dennis stood up and ran in circles completed wowed by the amazing display of fireworks exploding in the sky, lighting up dark chasm above, then fading away into darkness. Celebrations in silence are commonplace in the Wilsons- the New Year was no exception. 

George stared into the distant sky, seemingly deep in thought- “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..” 

“It does seem like an appropriate night to recite Kerouac.” 

“More appropriate that I found you- or that you found me” he replied, his arms over her shoulder pulling her close. 

“Mad. Both of us.” 

They laughed at themselves- they knew the madness of falling in love, they knew the madness of falling out of love and they knew the madness of keeping the oath they made to each other in all circumstances- "till death do us part"

They pondered on the many obstacles and deep waters they had overcome thus far in their marriage and were filled with thankfulness to God; it had almost been a decade that they had spent as man and wife. Marriage- the roots are deep, the covenant is solid, the love is sweet. Life is hard and God is good.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

little by little everyday

Laughter filled the hallway. Of the sounds on earth, a child’s laughter is perhaps the closest to that of heaven, thought George. He looked at Dennis from afar with fatherly affection and said a quiet prayer for Dennis. It was one of those days, where he felt exceedingly blessed to have Dennis- his treasure, his heritage. Indeed, blessed is the man whose quiver is filled with them!

Of course, the highs are never without the lows and there are just as many tough days as there are good ones. Could so much devastation and delight co-exist in the gift of a child? It could. But Wilson also knew that sometimes blessings come through raindrops and to George, Dennis was mainly blessing than raindrop.


Dennis had just learned to read and he found books immensely interesting. He’d take books, papers, anything with words on them and traced his fingers across the alphabets. 

“K-I-N-D-N-E-S-S. What does that mean Pa?”

“That is when you do something nice for someone. Like when Ma gives me a neck massage- that is an act of kindness”


Most of it didn’t make sense to him but that didn’t stop him from asking. Words were exciting and he found it peculiar that almost everything he could see or feel or touch could be described in words- of course, most of the time he didn’t know what the word was. He was eager to make new discoveries and spent significant amount of time with books, especially books with colourful pictures.

His favourite was a picture dictionary that depicted the different things and people one might find in different places. He especially loved the section in a carpenter’s shed and would look through the list of tools one would have if he were a carpenter.

“H-A-M-M-E-R. Hammer!”

Martha smiled at Dennis.


Martha, George and Dennis made up the Wilsons. Martha and George met in school but it didn’t occur to her that one day she’d be a Wilson. Mostly showy and borderline obnoxious, George wasn’t her type. He’s mellowed down significantly since then, it may be that men mature at a later age when compared to women. Martha wasn’t his type either- Martha was as modest in her looks as in her ways but George had a penchant for the popular. Either way- they made it.

And now. Now, there was Dennis.


Martha sat beside Dennis as he read his picture dictionary.

“Mom, I want to be a carpenter, fireman, astronaut, policeman and doctor when I grow up!”

“That’s lovely sweetie, which is your favourite?” she asked gently.

“They are all my favourite”

“Well, you can be anything you want to be, sweetie.”

She smiled again at Dennis, but found herself continuing in her head “.., but you can’t be everything you want to be”.