Hands

When a cadaver is used for research or study purposes, apart from the face which is covered or excluded, its hands are removed.

Few people even think about them, but hands are so immensely personal and hold so much of one's humanity that they have to be removed so that the medical student can work on a cadaver, not a person. It's often only in death that one realises the humanity of another's hands.

I've always loved hands, love looking at them. They say so much and so little about the person at the same time. They live the person's life for them. They speak for the person when they don't open their mouth.

The first real crush I had was on the most talented pianist I know. He had beautiful hands with long, slender fingers. They looked so delicate yet held so much strength in them and created so much magic. It was his hands I fell for first. Through the years since, I've realised this is the type of hands that I like best, and when I see hands like that, I always wonder what it would be like to have them touch me.

Gnarled hands. Cold hands. Sweaty hands. Delicate hands. Big hands. Hairy hands. Thin hands. Short hands (like mine). Six-fingered hands. Freckled hands. Brown hands. They all draw my eyes to them.

I took the above picture of Sean's hands when we were on a road trip in November of 2004. His hands have always intrigued me and I fell in love with them the first time I saw them, tiny and wrinkly as he wrestled them free from his swaddling cloth in the hospital where he was born in August of 2003.

Small babies do strange, wonderful things with their hands. They seem to be perpetually amazed at their own fingers and play with them every chance they get. (And they flip you off surprisingly often, hopefully without realising it.) Sean, too, always played with them, staring at them in wonderment, turning them this way and that. Till today, I love to take his little hands in mine and feel how smooth and soft they are, how small they feel in my hands, and feel the way his fingers curl around mine. I love it even when he takes it into his head to dig his fingernails into my palm just for the heck of it.

On the same road trip, my sis was less pleased about having her picture taken. Her hands are self-explanatory.

Show me the way to the stage

An audition and a late-night chat with Winds reminded me of something.

The audition was for I Theatre's next musical. I received a message saying I didn't get into the show but was shortlisted for their next production. Disappointment was mild, and I found myself chatting with Winds about it tonight. A few things came to light which comforted me greatly about not getting into the current show, but what struck me was him mentioning one thing he liked about I Theatre - they tended to recall actors for future productions.

While that sounded promising to me at this point in time, it made me think back to the time where I was trying to start out in theatre after leaving school. Totally green with regards to the local theatre scene then, I was at a loss as to how to even find out about casting. What made it even harder was that I was working at my first full-time job. Looking around, all I found were barriers to a total newbie trying to find her way to the stage.

Out of frustration, I posted my thoughts in the singaporetheatre.com forum. Why was it so hard for a newbie? Why did we consistently see the same faces on the stage over and over when there were so many talented and eager non-professional actors out there? Why was it so hard to get hold of resources on the local scene (apart from the wonderful but limited cache of info Ee Hoon put on her website)? In a more accusatory tone, I touted that the industry shouldn't be so protective and set up so many barriers.

This is when I had my first contact with Malti, who emailed me explaining a few things about the local theatre industry and helping me with some resources. I then realised I just didn't know where to look (well, that was one of my peeves in the first place).

Theatre companies re-hire the same actors out of economy and comfort - because they know the actors and what they can do...and to pull sales using well-known names. And, if all goes well, this might even work for me in the near future now that I'm farther down the track. And is HAS worked for me - that's how I got my role in the last two musicals I did.

And it makes me feel like a bit of a sell-out (to-be), remembering all those unfamiliar, nervous faces I see at auditions, some probably where I was four years ago.

Incest is best

And now, still fairly new and inexperienced, having done only a few shows since, I'm already finding the industry incredibly small! It's almost filthy how everyone eventually knows everyone else, regardless of whether they're active in amateur or professional theatre. There are only so many training programmes and theatre companies here. It feels incestuous.

And it feels comfortable. Everyone gets mooshed together in a little pot of soup until it becomes more cosy than cramped. Lots of "Oh, you know HIM? And HER too? We did so-and-so show last year!" And, two years after you last see an actor you did a show with, you see them again in another setting and you give each other a big hug in delight. Because that's what performing together does to you, especially in amateur theatre. You recognise the same passions in each other, and those passions mingle and blend for two months. And when you take it back with you after the show is over, you take some of the other person's with you as well with no loss to either, because they're now greater than the sum of their parts.

Entering upstage right

It's hard work. It's so much tougher than what many people think it is. Just the craft itself takes so much work and effort. Getting there is another uphill climb. I think it was harder for me because I had no opportunity to train before now and no support for my love for it in my growing years. Finding the channels and the chance to develop took a great deal of time and effort. Damned if I'm ever going to give it up. I'm this close. I'm going to get there.

Along the way, it's right to stop to thank the people who benchmarked my journey:

1. Mrs Hazel Low - My introduction to and encouragement in drama in the years 1990 to 1991. Her favouritism boosted my confidence in acting and writing.

2. Roger Jenkins - For that one phrase of praise in December of 1993 that made me believe that acting was something I should keep at. And for showing me masks.

3. Malti - For showing me the doors and windows (and to Leigh for being a big big window!)

4. Luke and Esther - For saying, "Yes. We want you to be Stella." For giving my self-confidence on stage a huge upward hoist.

5. Ivan and Jon - For showing me what's behind the curtain.

Frivolous buys

What the heck, I'll succumb to a girly post and talk about shopping.

Far East Plaza is a wallet trap for me. It's almost impossible for me to walk in there and not do some damage. Last week, I spent almost $200 there, which I avoid doing these days because of my diminished income (dare to pursue the freelance dream). The shopping trip resulted in some uncharacteristic buys:

An oh-so-cute bag with a high heel attached at the bottom. How irresistable is that?


Blue jelly flipflops. They were very cheap ($9.90) and comfortable, and pretty on the feet in a way I never thought large blue plastic flowers would ever be.

Yet another quiz

Saw this quiz on Shouchen's blog and thought I'd give it a try just for the heck of it.

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		10
Quality Time:		8
Words of Affirmation:		6
Receiving Gifts:		4
Acts of Service:		2

Interesting. I didn't think I was that physical! I'm overwhelmingly a visual-learning person so it's a surprise that physical touch is my primary language. But it makes sense on hindsight. Most, if not all, my relationships had offically begun with physical touch, mostly by touching hands or a kiss...which was terrifying when I was younger. But yeah, touch is a very important component to me in a relationship, whether it's a romantic or platonic one. I think how willing I am to touch someone else is an indicator of how guarded I am with them. I think of how I (mentally) recoil whenever my mum touches me. I think of Kelvin and I and how our bodies just seem to meld when we hold hands or hold each other. I think of the sweet fondness Ruilian and I share when we hug each other at hello and goodbye.

I just realised the numbers above are in running multiples of 2. Very random thought.

Quality time - ah, that's something I like. I always love doing things with Kelvin. We can do the most inane things and make a big, fun discussion out of them, or just drape over the sofa watching The Simpsons, or just sit in the same room, each doing our own thing. Best of all, there's so much in common we like to do. I never have to worry about him falling asleep in a theatre and he doesn't have to worry about me getting bored silly in a gadget store. Perhaps the only activities we don't share are clothes shopping and watching boy flicks (I leave it up to you to guess who prefers which. No prizes for guessing). The best quality time is when you can combine it with physical touch. What fun is love without making out?

Before the parade passes by

Wednesday was the last time the National Day Parade would be held at the current National Stadium. I can't say I was terribly sad as I don't have any particular fond memories of the stadium. But I guess it was a fairly significant event.

This year was my first and possibly my last time attending the parade, and it had taken a bit of convincing by Kelvin before I even wanted to go. It was interesting, at least, and we had pretty good seats, though from my photos it's obvious I was just a little off centre, enough for all my photos to look every so slightly crooked. Oh well, it was a straight track in an oval stadium. There was no way to win. Anyway, I got my first up-close view of good old Caesar Lee who seemed to pause for a moment either for a breath or for applause (he got a bit of both).

My photos are in my Webshots album at http://community.webshots.com/user/andromeda_carina. Many of the photos are blurry because it was getting dark and my while my camera is good, it's still a basic consumer model. But hey, if you zoom out enough, the photos look alright! Anyway, it was mainly to capture several aspects of my evening there.

I have some thoughts on personal national identity...but it's 5am, so I'll share them another day soon.

The birds are back!

Upon one instance of channel surfing, I happened across an amazingly bad sci-fi movie called Pterodactyl on Cinemax. It's about two groups of people in the Turkish wilderness who start getting stalked by a group of prehistoric birds called pterodactyls. The tagline itself is enough to make me gag: "Ptowering Pterror". (Note: the "P" is silent in "pterodactyl".)

Even the trailer is unwittingly funny-bad! Watch it at this link.

Some ingredients that made this movie so awful it's funny:

1. A hilariously cringe-worthy script filled with cliches and one-liners. Blonde bimbo: "I just wanna go hooooooooooooommmmmme!!" (they even have this line in the trailer). Heroine into walkie-talkie while trapped in a giant bird's nest crawling with hungry baby pterodactyls: "Will I wake up in bed and find out that I am, as they call it, tripped?" Gung-ho army officer to hero at the most inappropriate moment: "She's something special. Treat her good."

2. One-dimensional stereotypical characters: Handsome-ish professor with more than just research on his mind, sort-of pretty heroine with brains who ends up needing to be rescued by the dudes, blonde bimbo who takes off her clothes and screams a lot, bespectacled nerd who eventually gets a kiss from the blonde bimbo, black garang dude (played by Coolio) who spouts 90% of the smart-ass and/or cheesy one-liners, plus an assortment of baddies with foreign accents.

3. Bad CGI prehistoric birds.

4. Bad CGI prehistoric baby birds.

5. Cheesy effects and occurences, e.g. exploding giant birds, the obligatory pointless exploding car, gratuitous gore and ripping body parts, long sequences of shooting guns into the air while the giant birds swoop about, numerous separate scenes that were very obviously all shot in the same patch of field (why the characters had to keep defending themselves from the birds in the open field instead of running for the very nearby forests is beyond my comprehension).

It is an entertaining experience, that's for sure. If you're bored and want to snigger at something, leave your brain at the door and look out for it on Cinemax. Remember: evil is in the air...

Past anger

Can one still be pissed off by someone they've long ceased to care for? Fucking yes!

Blog surfing sometimes is, quoting a recent commenter for my blog, "like a freaking car accident, you can't help but stare" even if you know you'll probably find something that will make you scoff or seethe. Browsed through an ex's blog and found this in his latest entry:

"Yet my thoughts, my pride, and my love for my family and friends was curbed when I was with Daphne (no I'm not going to go on harping on and on about her, she's not worth it {no hurt intended to reader)). Though I was happy being with her, she basically took or demanded all my energy, my emotions and my time away, till I have almost no time for others."

What the fuck?! Curbed his love for family and friends because I demanded all his energy? No hurt, my ass! His memory has failed him miserably. Mr I-want-to-be-remembered-as-the-one-who-loved-you-most who would insist on spending time with me even though I pressed him to please go home to study/help his mum. Same dude who, without warning, bought my family presents and lavished compliments and neglected to get a single thing for his long-suffering mother at CNY, and refused to take home any of the gifts for her when I asked him to.

I hate when my name is sullied like that when I was the one who tried to set things right and was not listened to. Instead, because I couldn't feel the same way and couldn't always agree with him, I get all the failings blamed on me. Hello? I recall being the one to tell him not to try too hard, that I liked him as he was, but noooooooooo... I got accused of being unappreciative when I did that.

If he voluntarily spread himself too thin in trying his best for the relationship, I understood that completely and assured him so at the time. But the fact is I tried to talk sense into him that not everything he was doing was right, and I DID tell him that his family and personal life needed attention too. And I got the same response each time: either 1) he'd majorly pout and we'd quarrel about me "not appreciating his effort", or 2) he'd gush about how he wanted to try his best for me so that he could take the honour as the one who loved me most; indeed, he was HAPPY doing all that for me and sacrificing all else, against my strenuous advice.

Well, Mr Delusional Weatherman, to hell with you. Whatever forgiveness you sought from me just ain't happening. The fact is, you never ever saw any other point of view but your own. You never saw anything happening but what was in your head. You never heard anyone else's words but your own. Although I wasn't in love with you, I gave you my best at the time, and that was wasted on you because you never saw it. Fudge you.

Missing this year

This is the first time I'm missing Sean's birthday, having chosen to stay in Singapore so I wouldn't miss Y&W training sessions. I won't get to see him till the training ends in February.

Yesterday was his third birthday and I found myself crying my eyes out at home in the middle of the night because I missed him and my sis so much.

I'd actually forgotten to call earlier, so my sis called me at a little past midnight, which is around 9am over there. She was upset that I'd forgotten it's his birthday, but what did she expect when she began the phonecall with, "So it's National Day?" The first thing that occurred to me was no, it's not National Day! (Duh.) But I didn't think she'd be testing to see if I'd forgotten Sean's day. But anyway. After the big guilt trip, we had a halting conversation, which was awkward because she and I hardly ever get upset with each other.

Then she put Sean on the phone. He didn't say much, since the amount of chatter we get from him is always dependent on his mood, but when he said, "I love you, Yee Yee" I totally melted. I then sang him his birthday song. He loved it apparently, as I was told he was grinning the whole time he was listening to the song.

It was hard to try to hide that I was crying over the phone, but I think I did admirably. I didn't want them to hear how upset I was. It really sucks that I can't be there. I keep telling myself that I can see lots of them next spring and that I'll stay longer to make up for it. And that Y&W better be well worth it.

I miss them so much.