purposeful honesty?

its no fun being cryptic, i realise. no fun reading cryptic. like i'd rather go to a blog and read things off straightforward and blatant. and that's the whole point of me trying to keep this blog highly private, and succeeding really. but i dont know, firstly i dont think i have much to say, and secondly, my fingers still dont trust straying eyes that dust this blog. aiyah rubbish la. i just like keeping fragments of my thoughts randomly scattered. thus i have a gazillion notebooks and diaries at home where i jot down awkward thoughts n eureka moments, or sadder stuff- which i forget. i make silent promises to myself, like i'm gonna study math tmr, and i'm not gonna msg so and so for days.. which is why i only get heart-out-of-the-mouth brazen honesty or uh, depiction, in storybooks. i dont dare to make too clear what im thinking about, dont like to namedrop, because mostly they're just passing musings that i dont really mean.

*now that's as open as ive ever been. hahaa. sick of facades and candied, deceptive words.

i dont know what i think about most of the time, but enough to drift away especially during car and bus rides. i cant focus on the roads for longer than 30 seconds, and you can probably make me believe im headed to jurong when we're going to east coast- that clueless. i guess most of the time i'm just wandering about my mind, creating make believe scenarios and would-be conversations, up in my head. things i would have said, but didnt. things i could have done, but missed out.

i asked my cellgroup three questions related to purpose last sunday. and to my subtle shock, i realised i cant answer them comprehensively. to questions like these there are many answers to be given within one answer. the answers are made up along the way, because we cant really be stone sure, and even after we pick up a pebble and decide-that's it!- we pick up smoother, rounder answers down the path, and are forced to rethink what we used to think before. get what i mean? i can never be sure.
but for this moment on this path at least, here's what i think.

*what is life to me.
-reading a book. routine, but once i engage in it it flies past me and before i know it, the days are over. books always look good and crisp and promising when they're new, exciting and fresh. and once its old and worn, i feel a tinge of nostalgia, and keep flipping back the pages to see what i missed [regrets? memories.] we tend to be judged by the cover, cliched, but still half-true. people read the few lines off the backcover and toss a judgement on it, whether they like you or not, whether you're their genre. and if you're not, you're put on the shelf to mingle with other lives- usually old classics, too.

*what is the purpose of my life.
-trick question. according to rick warren God has chosen 5 purposes for my life. i dont have a say. purpose is not equal to my dreams and ambitions, my talents or actions. its what i was made to do. and the only one who has the say is the one who made me.
-if i didnt already know the answer, i'd say.. pass. too complex for any suitable answer.

*how do i achieve that purpose.
-by asking God, by reading the owner's manual. by conforming to his purposes like plasticine dough in a palm, rather than forming a shape on my own and asking the Maker to make that perfect.

yay. new blog cover.

why cant u be honest and say what you feel. y the lame excuses, the recycled messages. i detest all of that. i detest fhm and maxim. i loathe the pretence, its beginning to pall, and i cant trust what u say anymore. actually since the start of this year, i havent.

if you feel decent enough to try honesty you can ask me why.

i doubt it.