I always have an argument with my roommates about whether it's appropriate to play Christmas music after Halloween or after Thanksgiving. I contend that it's fine to start listening to it after Halloween, but they argue that you're taking away from Thanksgiving. I disagree, I think it adds to it. We compromised last year, where I got to put the Christmas tree up halfway between the two holidays, with the music playing after Thanksgiving.

Anyhow, the reason I started thinking about this was because I downloaded some Lady Antebellum tracks, and there were Christmas songs that started playing! Ok, I started singing along, and you know what? I started feeling that thing they call the Christmas spirit. Yes, right in the middle of a hot, sticky, and bright Singapore summer.

What is it about Christmas music? I don't get it. I just wish we could play it all year round. I think the wonderful thing about Christmas music is that it brings with it all the happiness which comes with Christmas. One of my roommates said he didn't like it playing too early because he felt it just commercialized the season, and, to a certain extent, I agree. But, I think there's more to Christmas music. Whether you're a Christian or Buddhist, a Muslim or a Jew, there's more to the music than the shopping or festivities. To me, it invokes a season of hope, because there's the smell of cider and hot chocolate in the air, the teachers are nicer, the colleagues are happier, and the ground is drenched in a wonderland of white. And, don't you just get this warm fuzzy feeling inside whenever you hear Nat King Cole crooning out the lyrics  of "White Christmas."

So, my challenge to you today is to take a listen to this Lady Antebellum rendition of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," and pass that little piece of Christmas on to someone today!

The food's absolutely fantastic and I've been trying to not gorge myself out. Spicy food is a little spicier than normal, but I guess it's only been a couple of days.

The worst part though, is eating hot food with the sweltering heat around.

The humidity and heat are enveloping!

But, can I really complain, with access to the best and cheapest food in the world, what's there to grumble about?

I sometimes wonder where I'd be if I didn't believe in what I do. The central tenet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that because of Jesus Christ's Atonement, we can overcome all.

He gives me hope to change. His Atonement gives me the love and strength I need each day to be a little better, to be a little happier. I think sometimes people wonder how I could ever believe in this, why I'm willing to give this up, or that up. The funny thing is, I wonder that too sometimes. There's always the explanation that because I was raised in it, that it is the natural course I take.

In thinking about it, though, that is not the case. I believe because there are feelings and thoughts that I get  which could never be mine. That sense of love and peace does not come from within, but from Someone who truly loves me. When I hurt, when I don't know if I can continue, He is there. When everything is going right, He's there too.

Many contend that believers go to God only only when he or she they are in need, and I suppose an extent that's true, since I'm guilty of that. But why? Why do people keep turning to God? There has to be a reason that the begging continues.

I'm sure Heavenly Father gets frustrated or sad that we do that, but I know He loves us too much, so that when we come crying to him, much like a little child, He scoops us up in his arms and says, "Now now, let's take a look at that boo boo." And, the wonderful thing is that He doesn't look at and see whether that pain was caused by someone else or by our own mistakes. The most important thing to Him is that we know who He is and turn to Him.

I love Him.

1 John 4:19 reads, "We love Him, because He first loved us." I think I've never really understood that till now. why I love Him, it's because I can't help it. It's too powerful. No matter how much I rebel, He keeps coming back and saying, "Come on, let's figure this out together."

My Mom nags a lot. My gosh, she does. Even half a world away, modern day technology makes it easy. And, when she is, BOY, am I annoyed. On and on about the same things. I guess part of the reason/excuse is that she's Asian. So I'll get mad, then feel bad, then apologize and tell her I'll listen, but when I do it again, she says, you always say you're sorry but then you do it again." and I'm like, gee whiz, I'm 23, let me make my own decisions. But, it's in those epiphanies that I learn and know and understand. She loves me. I mean, my Mom really does, because everything she does is for my happiness. I never see it then (idiot) but it's always for my good.

Christ does the same for us, and then some. Because he loves us, He gives us the scriptures, and modern-day prophets and apostles that speak to us. They nag us, they keep repeating the same things over and over again, whether we should be praying constantly and always trying to be kind, or never to view pornography or lift the angry hand.

I listened to a devotional a few weeks ago that changed my heart. In it, the speaker spoke about losing a son to illness, and how his wife's heart changed from wanting to hold on to her son, to accepting it and letting him go. He said:

"She trusted God because she knew God. She knew that God understood her personally, in a way 
that few others could, for God had also lost a son. And through the Atonement of that Son, God can do miracles. He can forgive a sinner. He can 
save a lost soul. He can heal a broken heart."

I trust Him. That's the miracle of Jesus Christ. Because He lives, because He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemene and died on Calvary's Cross, I get to live again. It's one of the great consolations of the gospel that you know that you get to overcome death and receive the gift of resurrection. 

More than that, though, it's pertinent to me now that what He did allows me to change each and every day. It allows me to overcome my fallen state and find hope in a new morning. The fallibility of my daily sins are overcome by the ransom of His infinite grace.  He saves me every day, and also heals my broken heart when I think it can't hurt any more than it does. Because He took on my sufferings with such grace, poise, and humility, I can slowly become like Him as I apply the lessons He learned to my own life as He teaches me through His grace and mercy. Because He forgave those who nailed Him to the cross, I can forgive the friend who makes an insensitive comment. 

Two of my favorite scriptures, Alma 7:11-12, and Phillippians 2:5-13 sum up my thoughts perfectly, for through His succor, I can accomplish all things.

I think I’m finding the disparity from within.

When I was young, everything was easy and carefree. Life was bliss. Without a care in the world, my parents were my world. You know how you always ran to your Mom or Dad when you fell, or that teacher at school wasn’t very nice to you? You could always run back to your parents.

Then came the time I didn’t want to. I think it started in middle school, and I realized that I didn’t want to, I couldn’t talk to my parents about anything. First it was age, then it was culture. I got older, then went to the American school, and was inculcated with the ideology that I am my own person. I am a free man. Now I’m not saying that there isn’t still the love for parent and child in that culture, but independence comes sooner. At 18, you leave the house and start supporting yourself, and then you have your family, you drift apart.

In Asian culture, you’re supposed to live at home till you get married, even when you’re working. And, when you get married and have children, your parents stay with you and you take care of them till they pass on. Filial piety has a different meaning.

While I might have grown up in that environment and that culture, I’ve drifted away to that more independent and self-reliant concept.

Therein lies the discrepancy.

More often than not, my Mom and I bicker about this or that, we argue about my grades or discuss my lack of organization. I think it’s more than that. It’s a different generation, it’s a different culture, it’s a different perspective.

But it wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time, I was that cute little Asian boy who looked up at his Mom, and Dad with those eyes that would do whatever Mom and Dad wanted him to do. Then things changed. I grew up.

Here’s the question though. Do I really want to?

I’m not saying I want to move back in with my parents and live with them till they die, but I also want a different relationship. I want a relationship where we know and understand each other. I just finished a movie, The Descendants, where it takes a tragedy in the family for them to realize that screw-ups don’t really matter, that we all make mistakes, and we all have our faults.

So what though? So what if we mess up and piss each other off? At the end of it all, we’re family. Remember Lilo and Stitch, where Lilo says "Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten."

I’ll be spending the summer at home, the first time I’ve been home for longer than a month since I graduated from high school. It seems so foreign to me, because my friends are my family now too. My parents want me to go home earlier, but I’m struggling with that. I don’t know anyone there, and I don’t know if I can spend that much time there. I'm excited tone with my parents, and my uncles and aunt, but my friends mean the world to me too. 


A huge part of this dilemma, I think, is that I'm an only child. Being an only child makes you that way. Your friends are your family, because you don't have siblings who you grow up with or rely on. It kinda sucks sometimes. I have a few friends who I can count on one hand, who are like my siblings, thank goodness for them. But that's the thing, my friends are my support system. 

Isn’t that terrible though? Not wanting to be at home? I’d rather be with my friends, because it’s more fun. Family is fun too! Who chooses that? Maybe that’s because part of my thinks I’ll find my wife if I spend the summer in Provo, then that’s where I’ll have my own family, I’ll have security in that.

That’s it, I’m scared, I’m scared of not having a family. Because what happens when my parents pass away? When my aunts and uncles are gone? Who will I have? I think there comes a point in life where you look behind, and you look forward and think, where am I going? Who's going to be there by my side in the future? 


I feel so comfortable in Provo now, it is my home. But, Singapore is still where I grew up, and is my home too. I guess that at the end of the day, the people make the place. 


I want my independence. I want to be my own person and make my own decisions. At the same time, family is everything, I love them So, I'm eventually going to have to reconcile both of them. 

Had a great day wandering around the market in L'Isle sur la Sorgue.

It was a short train ride there, and was spectacularly beautiful and quaint. They sold everything from fresh-baked macaroons, to table linens and moving pieces of art. Of course, spices and fresh produce were also abundant, and women's clothing stalls were everywhere. 

Weird tomatoes. 

There's a river that rounded the village, and a stream that flows through the center. 

While at lunch, there was a family of four that needed a table, but the tables were spilt two and two; we volunteered to move, so they could sit together. No big deal right?

Well, apparently since we had done such a nice thing, the family next to us (who had helped us with talking to the waitress), paid for our meal! They said they did that because we had been so nice! That was a surprise! Not really knowing what to do except thank them, I gave them my card and told them to give me a call if they ever visited the States.

Four hours later, we were walking around, lost and tired with relatively heavy shopping bags. Realizing we had missed the train, and had a little over an hour to kill, we started wandering around the village again, and got lost. We were worried that we were going to miss the next train back to Avignon and started panicking slightly.

Unable to speak French, we found out that even the cops had given the wrong directions.

Panicking slightly, we flagged down a car on the road we were walking on. Pointing to the map, we asked them where the train station was. After determining they knew what exactly we were asking them, they told us to get into their car. They would take us there!

We gratefully excepted, squeezing into their compact European car with their son in his car seat. He couldn't have been more 2 or 3 years old. He must have been wonderding what the heck two random Asians were doing with him in the car. A few minutes later, they dropped us off at the station and drove off.

Would I have done that if I had been approached in a similar situation. I'd like to think I would have, but would I be too afraid, too wary?

A lot of the time, I think we view the world as an evil and cruel place, where people can't be trusted. Watching the news and reading the papers, it certainly seems that way. But, I think somethings it behooves us to think the best of people, to see them as good and caring, always willing to help out another person. Of course, if you feel uneasy or someone is pointing a knife at ou, there's no harm in thinking ill or fear then.

But, I think altruism can exist. It must exist. It is on that foundation that we are able to build a just and moral world. There are those who do good because it is the right thing to do. No questions asked.

Those two families today taught me a few lessons, among them gratitude, generosity, trust and kindness. When they saw something they felt was right, they were grateful and generous. When the other family saw someone in need, they helped without suspicion or wanting recognition. They helped because they wanted to.

The memories of our trip will eventually fade. I don't know the names of any of those people, but the lessons they taught me today will forever be imprinted on my mind and in my heart.

Weather in Avignon was still ridiculously bipolar. But...

The scenery on the way down to Avignon was BEAUTIFUL.

I still have visions and dreams from movies I've watched and books I've read over the years of people backpacking through europe. I'm sure it's not as glamorous as they make it out to be, but I still want to try it out, walking along the country roads.

I want to breathe in the fresh country air and watch the colors change through the season, I want to stop in soe local tavern where we can't speak the language and try what they put in front of us. There's something exciting to that mystery. 

Austria, oh, I really want to hike through the foothills of Austria.

Most of all, though, I want to take a break and take a step back, so that I can see where I've been and take a loom at where I'm going.

Need to save some money first though...

So, who's up for the trip?

I'm impressed.

Whenever I'm around Europeans, I always realize just how underdressed I am, whether walking down the street or sitting down at a restaurant to eat. They have fantastic dress sense, and the clothes they sell - let's just say their store fronts are a lot more impressive.

They're also a lot more expensive. Sigh.

One day.

I know clothing doesn't make a person, not by far. But, I think it does reflect on a society as a whole that they (yes, might be a little more snooty at times), but also carry themselves better. A good portion of the time, your outward appearance is an inward reflection of your self-appreciation, of being happy with who you are. You just take care of yourself better.

Those pea coats and well-fitted shirts are also helping me with a goal I have to trim some of that flab off the tummy this summer, for a happier, less chubby me.

I want to dress better, I need to dress better, stop dressing so casual, maybe that's why I'm so casual all the time.

The weather here is a paradox.

I thought I left it when I left Provo, but I guess not.

While Provo goes from sun to sleet in a matter of hours, Paris hasn't been spectacular either. 

We were wandering around as it was sunny, then it got windy, then sunny, then the wind started blowing paintings away from a stall we were at. Oh, then it started raining. Ten minutes later, it was sunshiny once again.

Provo and Paris couldn’t be more different. The people, the food, the culture. But there is one thing they have in common – the bipolar weather. I think the French handle it a lot better, though.

While the Americans run around in panic when the weather turns foul and curse the heavens, the French put on their trench coats, open their umbrellas, and hold their head high as the Mother Nature tries ever so hard to drive them back, always in vain.

When the weather was beautiful. 

Bipolar weather and well-dressed people aside, I love both places. Looking forward to Avignon more though. 

Sunny. 

The French are amazing.

Their food is delicious, their women are beautiful, and their language literally melts you when one of those sultry women open their mouths. Oh, and everyone dresses well too, I mean everyone.

The French are disgusting.

I have never seen so many people smoke before, from your average 50 year old man with a pot belly and balding hair, to the female executives in their business attire, they;re smoking, outside buildings, in bathrooms, outside the Cathedral of Notre Dame. How do people live?

It gets really sketchy when you see a girl who can't be more than 16 walking by you with her Mom, cigarette in hand. No, not the Mom, the teenage girl.

What is their obsession with smoking? I don't get it! What makes everyone smoke in rain, in shine, in your face?!! I really think the French are wonderful, I really do. They've been really nice, except for the snotty receptionist that checked us in at our hotel.

A cigarette tree, an example of many on Parisian streets, this one right by St. Michel's Blvd. 

I just wish they would cut down on their smoking. I think it would help them plenty. Maybe Sarkozy would stay in power then, huh? His brain wouldn't be so muddled by the smoke he breathes in from his citizens.

No, not their cars, themselves.