I wrote the following psalm as an assignment for my Old Testament class. I'm more pleased about what I tried to achieve than the actual result. (Oh the irony! Since this is a psalm about my perfectionism.) Nevertheless, since I have not written any poetry in forever, this is quite an acheivement! It's an attempt to write in the Hebrew poetic form, so rather than rhymthm or rhyme, there are a lot of parallelisms instead. My favourite part about this assignment was actually writing my commentary for it. After all, who can question the authorial intent when I am the author!

Psalm of a Perfectionist
1 Praise the Lord, for He alone deserves all glory!
2 You made the sun, moon and stars; “It is good,” You said.
You made the sea, sky and land; “It is good,” You said.
You made the plants, fish and animals; “It is good,” You said.
3 Your creation is perfect – You are perfect.
4 Then one of Your creation, made from dust,
Strived to hear, “It is good,” of her created things,
But, from everyone except You.
5 Straining for the pinnacle of perfection,
Forgetting none exists here since the Fall.
6 Vanity! Never to be fulfilled until new creation.
Forgetting that Yours is the measurement.
Forgetting You are the Creator; she, the created.
7 Many times have I failed You, many times have I broken my vow.
Do not forget me, O Lord, or turn Your face from me.
8 Though darkness shrouds me, You can see;
You whose vision pierces the depths of my soul.
9 Release me from self-made shackles, these chains I have put on.
Enslaved by the perfection I have worshipped.
10 As you heard David’s cry, O Lord, hear my plea.
May Your mercy and grace overwhelm me again.
11 Then I may turn to You, and rejoice at Your feet.
12 When I enter into Your rest, I will hear you say,
“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
13 I will sing praises to You, and glorify Your name!
Hallelujah!

Context
This psalm is about an on-going struggle in my life – perfectionism, and the progress I’ve made in very recent times by God’s grace. Coming from a perfectionist family, having dyslexia, only compounded it. (It's been 10 years since I was first diagnosed as dyslexic, and I'm only realising now how much it has shaped me.) My perfectionism centred on academic achievement. From a young age, I keenly felt I was more intelligent than my test scores would indicate. I strived hard to demonstrate my understanding, but to no avail. It was only later in my education that I started to do well routinely. Instead of abating, the perfectionistic streak only became more pronounced as I chased after the “A”s I now knew lay within reach, but to the detriment of other things – my relationship with God, family, friends, health, even integrity. This diminished somewhat as I entered the workforce, but I found myself becoming a workaholic – another manifestation of the perfectionist. Ironically, it came back in full force when I began seminary. By God’s grace, He has been using this time to work in me on this issue, and put people in my life to walk with me through it. I began to confront my motives and assumptions – why I do what I do. It hasn’t been easy but I am grateful for it. Even as I write this psalm and commentary, I realise that things I could not admit before, I can now.

Click on the following link only if you like commentaries, expositions and general rambling. ( CommentaryCollapse )

This song is currently on 'repeat' in my mind. Apart from it's catchy tune, it's also stuck because we used it for when the cast took their bows at the conclusion of the drama team's offering for this year's Search for a Star. In fact, our play was titled "Happily Ever After... ?"
Appropriating celebrated fairy tale characters like Snow White, Prince Charming and the Wicked Witch, the play also explores deeper themes of power and desire. At its core it examines the human condition and search for the illusive "happily ever after".

Prologue
“Once upon a time” so goes the story,
Of kings and queens, of honour and glory.
Alas, I lie, that is no longer true.
The monarchy was ousted, after a coup.
Democracy is now all the rage
Fabletown, indeed, has turned the page.
You’d think “happily ever after” would ensue.
But what actually happens, will baffle you.

( Why Happily Ever After?Collapse )

Once upon a time, in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat, contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.
The frog hopped into the princess's lap and said, “Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, handsome and charming young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so.”
That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on a repast of lightly sautéed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled to herself and thought, “I don't think so!"

I've been doing some serious thinking about faith, humour and fairytales. Oxymoron overload?! I assure you the three themes can be unified. For now, I hope you enjoyed the feminist recast of the traditional tale! (And if you know the source, please tell me!)

And a shameless plug for those of you in Perth: Come watch us in Search for a Star in 15 days!
(And for those of you who have had the privilige of having caught wind of the script... shhh...)

Image found here.

I get free flow of champagne
'Cause I've two chromosomes the same.
I finally see the light,
That, oh, on Ladies Night,
My feet will surely be in pain!

I never really grew into the whole clubbing scene. I only went because I had friends who loved to dance and would drag me along. Having two left feet didn't help the situation much. Eventually, when I did get there, it would have been fun. But now, I think I've offically grown out of it. We did find a nice, quiet(ish) place with good live Latin music. I very much prefer sitting down and chilling out with a nice glass of wine / champagne or cup of coffee even, chitting-chatting and listening to good music; than to be squashed with strangers in hazy dim rooms with neon beams, gyrating to what can only be classified as noise.

It takes me a very long time to write anything. When I get asked to contribute articles, my editors famously know that I will never submit it before the deadline (and sometimes after too), I need to use all the avaliable time. (That's also due to my procrastination but that was already the subject of a previous blog post.) I write, re-write, edit, re-write, edit, etc. For a recent article, I ended up with 2 articles instead of one. Given more time, I would probably have produced even more! The worse thing someone requesting I write could possibly say to me is, "Write whatever you want." I wouldn't know where to begin! Or stop! Even my blog posts sometimes take me forever to write, not this one and others like it; but usually those that have been researched and have multiple links and quotes. Sometimes those can take me hours to craft.
But I comfort myself with knowing that even the writer of Ecclesiastes, the Teacher, "searched to find just the right words" (Ecc 12:10). So I am not alone in my pedantic attitude to my writing. Though, much can be said for brief writing, Theodor Seuss Geisel aka Dr. Seuss says it much better:
It has often been said
there's so much to be read,
you never can cram
all those words in your head.

So the writer who breeds
more words than he needs
is making a chore
for the reader who reads.

That's why my belief is
the briefer the brief is,
the greater the sigh
of the reader's relief is.
- Dr. Seuss (Theodor Seuss Geisel)
And with that, I take the advice and leave you here.

Why do an ode when you can do a trilogy of limericks instead? (I attribute my aptitude in Mathematics to a mother who claims she has 3 vices: shoes, bags, accessories and chocolate.)

A girl from a place Down Under,
Of things, she made a blunder.
She took a long look,
At this thing called Facebook.
Since then, her life’s been asunder.

There once was a lion at the zoo
He didn’t quite know what to do
He supposed he could teach
But then that would breach
Zoo opening hours: his curfew

There once was a man named Leon
Who was made to wait for an eon
T’was good he was patient
Although he grew ancient
Whilst reading a lim’rick thereon

A brave teacher named Marianne
And, no, she did not hail from Japan
Although she be yellow
Her cheeks all but sallow
She’d mock you, the expression deadpan

At the request of Mishi, here's one on her dog:
A retriever by the name of Mango,
Was obsessed by the flamenco.
Oh, how she’d dance,
When’er the chance.
Next on the list – the tango!

A girl by the name of Nikki
(Alternatively known as Fishy)
Oh, but beware!
For on a dare,
She could dispense a hickey!
(I'm sorry Nikki, it's just that your name is exceedingly rhym-able!)
Bye-bye Singapore; hello heppy lend, fur fur away!

Pardon the language, but take that all you engineers, accountants, lawyers and doctors who mock me and my chosen profession!
Hearing Taylor Mali perform this poem with so much passion and conviction reminds me why I went into teaching. You can also read a transcript of 'What Teachers Make'. But it also made me a little sad that come Monday when Term 2 of school begins for West Australian kids, I won't be going into class.
One of the changes I alluded to in an earlier post is this: I resigned. Yup, four weeks ago. But I had to serve my notice and then it was the school holidays. And now when school starts on Monday, I won't be there. It still feels surreal but I think it'll start to sink in fully by Monday.
Questions and reasons aside. It's done. Whether it was a mistake or not. It's done. I'm just gonna keep my eyes focused now on the Master Planner and look forward to what else He's got in store for me. I don't know what it is just yet. But I do know that whatever it is, it's going to be good because all (not 'some', not 'most', but 'all') things work for the good of those who love Him and who have been called according to His purpose (Roms 8:28) and because my life is not my own, it is not for me to direct my steps (Jer 10:23). Faith. Trust. Not His plans, but in Him. So I throw my life upon all that You are, cause I know You gave it all for me. When all else fades my soul will dance with You, where the love lasts forever.

An Aside: Taylor Mali has also got another awesome one, The The Impotence of Proofreading (transcipt here). It is laugh-out-loud hilarious. It almost deserves a whole post on its own. Like On the English Language and An Ode to the Spelling Chequer, I would like to make it a wall poster in my classroom. Unfortunately, this one won't make the cut with it's ah, objectionable, content. Some of which I did not catch until I read the transcipt. So yes, this one also comes with a language (and content) warning.