Time to chill on the weekends buddy. Chill and wait. That’s probably better than actually doing lab work. Wait, just as the Israelites did for 3 days before crossing Jordan.

It just takes one blemish… to ruin the image of perfection.

Argh, the blemish always is there. It’s so hard to get away.

Stop looking at your target and saying, “What a great thing/person it/he/she is.”

You do not understand the internal struggles, the defects, the imperfections that are present.

Stop revering earthly things.

You do not see beyond the polish.

Stop.

Let the thing be the thing that the thing is, and let him be himself who he is, and let her be herself who she is.

Does not the Maker have the power to mould and shape each individual into a glorious vessel and a cheap vessel, both at His own will?

Let the Maker do His own job, and let us stop tagging things and people with labels.

Writing about myself is even harder. I’m okay with writing about other things, issues, objects, even other people (although I do try to follow the Biblical principles of being diplomatic, gentle but truthful in my assessment of others)… but myself? That felt like Moses writing “摩西为人极其谦和”… blowing my own trumpet about all of my achievements. Oh well, it’s a necessity.

So writing till 1:30AM in AMBL is quite the experience. MSL is quiet then, and nobody’s around save for a few PhD students still trying to complete their experiments. The custodians want to clean out AMBL, but they see me inside and hesitate – what if he’s doing some important things on his computer? (Really, I wasn’t, just writing my scholarship applications…) I let them in, telling them, “At this time, when you’ve got to do your job, you’re the boss.” Apurv comes by, and Qingning too, both of them from the Ellis Lab. Late-night workers. I call a few people, to relieve my mind, and pacing up and down in this large, expansive and clean lab keeps my mind clear.

I finish my writing at 1:30AM, realizing that my juices have dried up and that I need a rest. I am ostensibly tired, though my mind still has whizzes of brilliance flash-banging through it. I pack up, quietly, making sure that I have everything that I came with, before wheeling my bike out of AMBL. As I wheel out, a maintenance guy comes in, and I ask, “Late night call?” He replies, “Oh no, something broke.”

We exchange a “cheers”, and I bike off into the night, to my bed, to rest my tired head.

Romance conquers the conquistadors of England. But not for long – better luck lads, for I know the trophy will come back to Manchester!