Last night, I fell asleep reading The Horizontal-Vertical Illusion and Knowledge of Results by Brosvic and Cohen. I wasn't supposed to, of course. But the words were blurring into a b/w alphabet soup in front of my eyes. Of course I wasn't supposed to be reading it on my parents' bed, but I was tired.

I woke up about 1.5 hours later, and got up to walk to the study to check my computer. But I was stopped by the reflection of myself in the mirror.

I looked different.

I still looked like myself, of course. But my hair seemed different, waxed with sleep, yet wispy at the ends and sides. My eyes were bleary and small from sleep. I wasn't quite myself.

I kind of froze in front of the mirror staring at the reflection for a while, as it run its hand through its hair. Something a net friend had said once, about beauty, ran through my mind: You could be at your most beautiful at 4:30 PM in the afternoon and nobody would ever know.

And Ocean Eyes, from the book The Lovely Bones. Ocean Eyes was the nickname of the mother, who had ocean eyes of loss that only surfaced when she was alone. That was her true self, for as much as she loved her children and husband, she had had dreams which she had to forsake for her family. My words can't express the eloquence of those ocean eyes the way Alice Sebold did. Read the book.

Not exactly sure why those two things came to mind. It wasn't that I looked exceptionally beautiful to myself, in my ratty bed clothes. Nor did I see any oceans of loss in my eyes...perhaps I'd just caught a glimpse of myself with all masks off. In my original, true form. Afterall, I've never looked at myself in a mirror the moment I wake up. The blurry thought passed through my head that what I saw in the reflection was vaguely and strangely beautiful. Somehow, vulnerably.

Changes afoot in my life. In school - a change of pace, from 2 units to 3. In myself - stones and puzzle pieces are turning over. Seedlings pushing up from the soil, flowers are blooming, fruits growing and ripening. It's spring inside. In church, too - but I won't talk about this at the moment.

Yea, changes are afoot indeed.

I watched King Kong a few days ago, with Hannah, Liz, Eugene and Yuankai. It was a lot more enjoyable than I expected it to be. And so exciting I could hardly catch my breath. Though I thought Jack Black's Denham was too one-dimensional, and Adrien Brody barely registered, what a pity. Naomi Watts was absolutely lovely, though. Even in a ragged and soiled nightie, she was so pretty. But I liked her most in her first scene where she was brushing her lovely blonde curls in front of the mirror. She has bunny teeth, but I think that's part of her appeal. Flawed beauty. I couldn't stop oogling. I have a thing for broken, chipped, imperfect things. People, too.

I prayed for Liz today when she went up for altar call. The air-con dripped on me. Then Alvin prayed for me, after Sis Carel and Weiling. I was surprised that he did; even more surprised at what he prayed. But it hit the spot alright, so it must have been really God-annointed. It made me tear a little. It was something that was very personal, you see, something that I think has always been a central point in my relationship with God: that He is always with me. You know how different people relate to God differently? For me, something that He has always spoken to me time again, that I hold very dear and call up when I am troubled: that He is always with me. But sometimes I forget. And God used a most unlikely person today to remind me of that. = )