Lambada, Romanian style

For those whom I haven't bugged with shameless publicity for my show, here's what I've been busy with: Mad Forest (written by Caryl Churchill) by young & W!LD. Details are below (click on the pictures if they're too small to read).


The show runs from 12 - 16 December 2007. Tickets are only $16 and $12 - cheap and good! You won't find quality theatre at this price anywhere else. I know the venue seems quite far for some of you, but it's easily accessible - it's near and direct from the SLE if you're driving, and not far from the MRT. Another plus point is you can have supper at Johore after the show...

Discount! 10% off if you buy tickets through me or any of the cast, and no $1 ticketing fee. Buy early too, as there are only 80 seats per show and you may not get the timing of your choice.

Check out our production blog at http://madforest2007.blogspot.com for opinions, updates and embarrassing photos.

Top reasons to watch Mad Forest:

1) Singaporeans speaking in Romanian accents.
2) Provocative questions on freedom and individuality to prod your mind.
3) 11 young (and young-ish) people doing the lambada. One with a crutch.
4) Ongoing relevance for anyone and everyone, even though it was written 16 years ago and set in a vastly different country.
5) Support young, underrated talent in the arts scene.

Signboard fun

Was at Serangoon Road, Boon Keng side. Realised that the neighbourhood had probably changed little since the 80s, and we saw some shop signs that were REALLY 80s-looking. And spotted some other rather note-worthy ones too.

This one wins the prize for Most Misinformed Chinese-English Translation.

No commentary needed.

Heehee...we bet you do.

Somehow that sounds vaguely disturbing.
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And on a completely random note, another cute pic of the nephew and niece - the kids sharing a swingin' good time. It's adorable how much they enjoy playing together.

Trick or treatin'

Some people apparently had more fun on Halloween than I did, like the Ginsburg kids. My sis typically has more fun with their outfits than they do too.

Tell me you're not just passing out from cute overload.

Just as we thought Sean had a big head, he tops it off with Scooby Doo.

I just couldn't resist - check out Caitlyn's lashes! Those are major flutterers. Eat your heart out, girls.

Found on Etsy

Went on an accessory spree on Etsy (www.etsy.com) where there is a lot of really cool shit and I have to sit on my hands to prevent myself from going completely nuts. Found this seller AnomalousBits who makes these neat pendants, bought a bunch of her stuff (her shipping charges are really reasonable). I kept a few for myself and am selling the rest.

As my treasured friends, you have first dibs at $12 each before I put them on eBay beginning at $20 each. I'll wait till next Wednesday before putting them up on eBay.

They're mostly 4 to 5 cm long though some are a little smaller. I'll give more exact measurements upon request.

Little Angel Vintage Tattoo

Lucky Lady in a Martini Glass Vintage Tattoo

Art Tree

Magpie & Robin

Vintage Floral Scroll

Eiffel Tower Vintage Photo

Exotic Bird on Perch

Go or Stay?

Autumn Leaves

Little Bird on Branch

Grave Under the Tree

Crow

Crow with Crystal Ball

Dick & Jane (yes, snigger away)

Eiffel Tower Vintage Perspective

In addition to a few others I got for myself, I actually bought two Alice in Wonderland pendants intending to keep just one and sell the other, but I've ended up liking them both. Here're pics of them just to show off - I'm keeping both!

Ghost limbs

6am, and the pre-dawn quiet is punctuated by the soft sounds of snoring nearby and the low buzzing of the air-conditioning.

I give up trying to sleep, and sit up in the sofa, and I look around. I'm the only one left awake. The others are in various corners of the large room in their own worlds.

I am in mine.

There's something lonely about the pregnant stillness that precedes the dawn. The events of the evening (and night and wee hours of the morning) has left me hungover, slightly buzzed, and strangely depressed. Although reeling from severe lack of sleep, my mind won't shut up and it keeps me frustratingly awake. Awake with my thoughts. I fetch my iPod to replace the silence.

The first track which plays is from Aida. The woman's mournful vocals lament a painful truth. And I burst into tears.

Perhaps it's because alcohol is a depressant. As is progesterone. Perhaps it is the questions of commitment that cropped up sometime during the night. Perhaps it's 6am.

Either way, I am suddenly and quite unexpectedly hurting from the memory of my loss. There is gaping hole in a place I haven't looked at in a while. It has healed, but holes will remain holes. Even people who lose limbs still feel the pain from the limb that isn't there anymore - they're called ghost limbs. I'd figured this would come back every now and then, always at the oddest of times, like now.

I sit in that little sofa hugging my knees, crying quietly till I can't breathe anymore. Then I get up to blow my nose.

And that is it. I stop crying, lie back down, close my eyes, and wait till morning.

In the morning, it is gone. And hasn't come back since.

Today

Today it rained.

I miss smelling the rain from a window that opens to a sea of green.

Today it occurred to me that I hadn't seen the stars in a while.

I miss the stars.

Today I thought of water.

I miss the ocean.

Today I sat alone watching TV.

I miss watching TV sideways with my head on someone's lap.

Today I saw my friends on MSN.

I miss my friends even though I just saw them last night. The difference is I know I will see them again very soon. And that makes me smile.

55 Fiction

I'm lifting this off a special issue of New Times in San Luis Obispo County, CA, when I visited in summer. This issue really caught my eye - it's their annual 55-word short story contest, and this year's theme was a tribute to Kurt Vonnegut (Candice, you'll probably like these).

These are my favourites. You can view all the winners at http://archive.newtimesslo.com/index.php?p=showarticle&id=2568.

Equal Opportunity

The Emperor's lotus divers decided to hold an international diving contest to prove whose lungs were the best. The winner would receive (ethical) diamonds and tenure.
A pearl diver, a dumpster diver, a deep sea diver, and one walrus showed up. The walrus was disqualified for being a walrus. Its lawsuit bankrupted the empire.

~ Heloise Shinglewit (Anne E. Campisi)~

Cuttings

I'm wearing farewell black. As I walk away, past the mound of wet earth, I silently curse the scent of fresh cut flowers. I'm thankful the cold rain conceals my tears.
She's wearing goodbye white. They said her wounds were deep, cut all the way to the bone. I wish my pain ended there.

~C. Morgan Clayton~

Rain of Secrets

Star and Moon quarreled, each wanting to acquire the other's secret.
"Tell me how to shine like you," said Moon.
"Tell me how to dream like you," Star replied.
Their voices fell as rain on the planet below. A woman, who had lost her umbrella, stood in the street, hair and skin soaking with secrets.

~Kirsten Anderson~

Only $5

SEE A WOMAN BURNED ALIVE! the marquee screamed. ONLY $5!
Inside, she was tied to a stake, coals piled around. She wore a bikini kind of thing. They lit a match.
She struggled and screamed. It took about ten minutes.
It was okay, but not as good as when they strangled the guy last week.

~James W. Harris~

Unacceptable

The roach was at least four feet long. It was lightning fast and it lunged at me. I slammed the door shut just in time. I heard it bang repeatedly against the wood. I went back to the manager and handed him the key.
"That room is simply unacceptable," I said.
"Do you have another?"

~James W. Harris~

Pussy Whipped

I love vagina so much I gave my mum's clitoris a little lick on my way out during birth. I've made plenty of sacrifices to get it. I've sat through shopping trips, paid for dates, and I've even gone as far as to prey on drunks.
Once, I even said, "I love you."

~Thrust Longwood~ [Tell me you don't think this is a pseudonym]

You Can Dust It Off

Peter moved his butcher's blade with calligraphic grace. Could this be the perfect burger?
"Stop," she says.
Peter sighs. Not today.
"You're slicing too thin."
"Sorry mother."
"It takes practice."
He studied his teenaged, defeated reflection in the crimson pooling over the linoleum. "What's this, the fifth husband now?"
A warm smile. "It takes practice."

~C.J. Arellano~

No intention to rhyme

I took a hot, hot shower. Felt the water, steam and heat envelope my skin, the moisture-laden breaths of air filling my lungs until I felt almost buoyant. And I thought about a phrase that had suddenly and quite unexpectedly popped into my head minutes before I stepped into the shower:

"She walked the streets and found a seed..."

And I thought what she would do with it. I decided she would plant it in her pocket. And, for some reason, the rest of the short story (or rather, string of possibilities) started coming into my head in some kind of meter (albeit a very imperfect one) and I just couldn't stop my thoughts from falling into that meter. I have a fondness for how limericks sound, so I guess this naturally fell into that sort of sound. I just had to write it down.

I feel almost like an unpolished (and drug-free) Dr Suess.

She walked the streets and found a seed and planted it in her pocket.
That night she curled up on her bed and dreamed what it could be.

Would it grow into a cricket that one day hops out her pocket?
Or a voracious venus fly trap pushing roots right in her hip?

Would it bloom into a scissor plant with razor blades for kids?
Or maybe just a table top with supper for a week?

'Course, no such thing would come of it, t'was nothing but a seed.
But oh, the dreams and things and worlds that could come out from a seed.

After all, aren't seeds what drives us writers and artists to pursue things to the ends of possibility?

Intoxicated frustration

Its past 6am and I'm sitting here, still feeling the effects of what only a mix of vodka, tequila and whiskey can conjure. It's been some time since I drank enough to feel even remotely high. Been some time since I clubbed proper with friends, too.

At some point earlier, after a few drinks had loosened our tongues, A had her arm around my waist and said, "I want to fall in love!" I turned to her in wonder and replied, "So do I!"

And that's a problem. Wanting to fall in love is always a problem, especially when, at a deeper level, I don't really want to.

Not having someone to fall for compounds that problem. Even in the midst of a club jam-packed with hungry, testosterone-charged members of both sexes (not to mention a sprinkling of really hot call-boys who looked like call-girls), I couldn't spot a single person whom I'd consider buying a drink for. Not that I've ever done that before.

My thoughts occasionally strayed to the guy I'd mentioned in an earlier post whom I'd wanted to ask out. I barely know him, and what I do know of him doesn't quite satisfy what I'd want to look for in a guy. Throw in the fact that he doesn't seem interested (I think). It's easy to let any such interest fizzle quickly off.

But I find that it's easier in concept than in practice. It's been a very, very long time since I grew to like someone of my own accord, quite involuntarily and contrary to my usual tastes. It's not so easy to throw off something like that, no matter how fleeting it ought to be.

It was half past 5 in the morning and booze-intoxicated me was about to head off to shower and call it a night, my head still dancing. Only then did I look at my MSN list and saw him online. I couldn't resist (I tried to). I had to say hi.

It was a very short chat. I'd known it would be even before I typed the first message, but still I couldn't resist.

I keep telling myself I just want to be friends. But am I being truthful to myself?

Sensing any kind of connection or letting momentary connections reach your heart is a dangerous thing.

I don't want to like someone. But I want to like someone. I want to FEEL.

Isn't that odd for someone who feels that there's not much lacking in her life? Or is that what she tells herself? Or is it just oesterogen run wild? (I doubt it's the latter.)

I'm scared shitless at the thought of opening up to someone else. But gawd, how I want to. (Dammit, must I always be this bag of contradictions?!)

Most importantly, (and I'll say it now while I'm still high), I just want to be held and loved and pursued and pleasured. Just once, I want to lie completely helpless in someone's arms. I don't want to be the strong one, for once. Is that too much to ask?

I'd asked a close friend last week whether he'd ever wanted someone to love because he was so filled with passion and the sheer size of his capability to love? He said yes. And I realised I asked him that because that's exactly how I feel and why I want to fall in love again. I've got so much to share that it feels so much bigger than I am, that it would overwhelm me if I couldn't have someone to explore it with me in its most expansive dimensions.

But I don't dare to look for it. I'm scared. But oh so hopeful.

Someone please find me.

Reason to blog #23

Last night one more reason for blogging occurred to me.

Was trying to tell a friend/acquaintance about my then-current mood of intense craving, telling it simply because I was comfortable enough telling it to him even though I knew he wouldn't (and indeed couldn't) really be bothered.

And today, I was thinking about that chat, and wondered why the fact that he couldn't be bothered didn't bother me much.

I realised I simply needed to say it, the way I blog about my thoughts and feelings simply because I need to say them, regardless of who does or doesn't care. I've already written about why I blog these things - to feel less alone. There are numerous other reasons why I, and other people blog, most of which can be easily pointed out by a competent psychiatrist.

And now, another - because anyone who cares would already be reading this right now.

Not a whole lot of people visit my blog (also known as the only good outlet for self-indulgent introspection), and those who do are mostly friends, especially the close ones. And I'm glad for that silent company.

Bumpity

Got a call from my dad during lunch today, got a small fright when he said he'd been in an accident. He turned out pretty much alright, save some bruising from the FOUR enthusiastically deployed airbags (good thing too, or his legs might have been busted if not for the bottom airbag). He just needed me to pick him up from where he was.

He was right. The accident site was easy to spot.
I guess we just hadn't expected to see a cab wrapped around a traffic light post. At first, my dad's car, seen in the background on the right, seemed alright at a quick first glance. That's until we spotted his front bumper 5 feet ahead of the car.

At least both drivers weren't really hurt. Apparently the cabby's two passengers had minor injuries from being thrown forward, most likely because they weren't wearing safety belts. According to my dad's side of the story, the cabby was Speeding (with a capital "S") through the red light, expecting it to turn green any moment, which it was in fact about to. However, because the cabby was overtaking two cars that were stopped at that same light, he didn't see my dad in the midst of a turn, trying to beat the amber arrow. Wham, wham.

Interestingly, on the way to pick up my dad, my mum had been commenting, "It must be a cab." While I'm not crazy about my dad's driving, most cabby driving annoys the crap out of me - many cabbies are inconsiderate and dangerous. I wouldn't be one bit surprised if this one did turn out to be at fault.

While waiting for my dad to be done, I had time to spot this row of trees leaning out from under the bridge, reaching for the sun.

Seven

Oops, just realised I was tagged by El.

1. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
2. Tag seven people to do the same.
3. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag whoever wants to do it.

1. I almost always must 'end' on my right foot, e.g. the last step in a flight of stairs, stepping over lines on the ground, and such.

2. Am unashamed of a 4-inch-long, centipede-shaped scar I got from a screwed-up appendectomy when I was 7 years old.

3. Am secretly obsessive.

4. I seem to have an affinity with guys who have a "-vin" or "-in" sound somewhere in their names.

5. Am part geek - computer hardware makes my heart beat faster, am addicted to sudoku and adore documentaries about geography.

6. I love my body AND feel fat at the same time. Can't figure that one out.

7. Was recently told that I seem to favour guys who look gay (but aren't gay). Up yours, Luke.

I tag Elaine, Estee, Jon (Ang), Lina, Shou Chen, Kevjn, Ghaz

Hormones vs sense

Last week I summoned my guts and asked someone out. He didn't bite, though, so I didn't push; there's only so much my pride will let me do.

Which made me think of a few things.

Firstly, that my hormones are running rampant. I've been met with temptation a number of times recently and have pretty much been feasting my aesthetic senses.

Secondly, that I'm not letting the hormonal surge run away with my sense and better judgement. And my pride.

Most importantly, that I was ready to ask someone out, and in a completely different frame of mind than when I sort-of did five months ago (gosh, has it been so long already?). I found myself completely not interested in any sort of casual hookup. My interest is closer to the sort I had back in my man-abundant uni days when I'd rather seek deeper connections, even at the risk of never being in a relationship with the dude.

Which brings me to the fourth - that I'm still not actively seeking a relationship. Well, I never really am at any point, just that now, I don't really miss it mostly. I'm open to someone who might happen along, but I'm fine with not pursuing a relationship.

When I got the not-interested vibe in the guy in question, I was mildly disappointed, but was surprised to find it didn't affect me all that much. I realise it's because I wasn't looking for anything to happen, and that I was actually more eager to be friends than anything else since I'd enjoyed his company so much during the time we were compelled to spend together before.

Yes, I do want to see him again, but no biggie if I don't. Was actually rather surprised that I did grow to like him a little. When I first met him, he didn't seem my type at all in terms of looks, age and place in life. Then again, this has been a year of surprises, especially in the arena of men - the new and the familiar alike.

I find it hard to believe people when they say they fall for someone at first sight, or within a very short time, mostly because it never happens with me. Even when I grow to like someone a little, I find myself unable to really like them if I know very little about them. I've never dated anyone who wasn't a good friend, suffice to say.

It terrified me, asking this guy out. I guess it's because it wasn't a superficial attraction, as compared to the last time. But at least I had the balls to actually ask. And hey, it was fun to actually be infatuated again, no matter how briefly or mildly. Haven't felt infatuated for years and years, even in the past few relationships.

It's easy to think I'll give anything for someone to hold in times like now when it's late and it's quiet and I have intimate thoughts to share (and wish I had someone to shag). But I know I won't, at least not lightly.

Gui sui

The closest translation for gui sui (Mandarin, hanyu pinyin) is to be sneaky, un-straightforward, needing to move beneath the radar.

I noticed something interesting a couple of days ago while browsing through some of my Facebook friends' friends lists looking to add old friends I may have missed. Where Kelvin's Facebook profile had previously been available for all to see, I noticed that he had disappeared from all our mutual friends' lists. And I figured I have just been blocked. While this doesn't upset me in the least, it's amusingly curious.

I haven't asked anyone anything about Kelvin or his new bi...I mean, girlfriend all these months, mostly because I simply cannot be bothered...plus, a lot of them wouldn't know anyway - I still get mutual acquaintances asking me, "Hey! How come you're listed as "single" in Facebook and Friendster?" But every once in a while, I'd take a peek at his blog or his Facebook (think I've seen the latter a grand total of thrice in 4 months), just curious to see if he's broken his silence. He hasn't. Which isn't surprising, considering his MO, which is to hide from dealing with things like awkward questions from puzzled friends and relatives.

Part of me is actually gleeful that he's the coward who consciously stays away from our old haunts, refrains from posting pictures or talking about his life in general view, and in all likelihood stays away from most theatre events. I'm the one walking around with my head held high and nothing to hide. I'm the one who's not afraid to talk about old demons and past regrets. Not afraid to talk about him with friends. Not afraid to be seen.

Coming back to the Kelvin Facebook thing, it made me wonder why only now, seven months after we broke up, months and months after he'd blocked me on MSN (which was certainly not because of anything on my part - I left him completely alone after we parted for good). My guess is he finally wants to put up photos of his new chick and just doesn't want me to see. Goodness knows why. I hope it's because his guilt and inherent gui sui-ness is compelling him to hide his life from me.

He amuses me. How long will he continue to do the hiding game? I wonder if he'll feel silly if he knew how little that means to me. There's no better hell than the one a person creates for himself.

Akan datang...

Young & W!LD prepares for the next show! Look out for Mad Forest (by Caryl Churchill) near the end of the year.

How do the winds of extreme change and revolution impact the individuals who are swept up in them? Hero or fool? Revolutionary or hooligan? Is what you see what you get? Did you want any of this? How much would you give for freedom? What would you even do with freedom?

This challenging new production will pretty much test every member of our group. Just reading the script reveals a scary number of things we have to overcome and master. Mad Forest is not as much a crowd pleaser as On North Diversion Road was - it'll be grittier and heavier for sure.

This will be interesting.

Watch this space.

Open closure

Am just fresh from the most bare talk with Kev in a while, which started quite unexpectedly. Some things said were news, some things said before in different words. But it comes to the same result.

I said all I needed to say, heard what I needed to hear.

And that's the best (personal) closure I've ever had. The feelings have largely tapered off by this time, but I still needed to have a discrete end to this phase so we can go on as purely friends. I don't know if this functioned as closure for him as well, but that doesn't matter. I'll always be fond of him, of course. At least now my heart is wholly free to feel for someone else who might happen by.

Post-monogamy: to date

In an extended fit of nostalgia, was looking through almost every single one of my my blog entries all the way to the entry of 8 February, which was less than a day before I opened my mouth and unexpectedly kicked off the beginning of the end. And I remembered the pain and the sleeplessness.

But the pain comes only as a memory.

Just the other day, I was asked by a new acquaintance about the end of the relationship, and when I started trying to explain, I realised the way I tell it has completely morphed. Even as I was telling this new, highly abridged version of things, what went through my mind was Exquisite Pain.

Exquisite Pain was this British production I saw earlier this year. In it was a woman who was telling the story of the greatest pain she experienced, which was that of a failed relationship. She retells and retells and retells her story over a period of time, her story morphing and evolving with each retelling, until her very last time, when all she says is, "Enough."

Even the one-liner I used to tell that new friend about the breakup seemed excessive. There would be a lot to tell, of course, given the right circumstance, but as a news-in-brief to someone who barely knew me, there was little worth telling. Except that it's over.

And that I've moved on. I find myself thinking about how much things have changed for me over the past half year since the night of 17 February. From "I'm broken" to:

- My left forefinger no longer feels empty. It has forgotten it has ever had a band of oxidised silver.

- I'm sleeping well again, even if I don't quite sleep enough.

- I'm no longer depressed.

- No more bouts of panic.

- No more fear...well, not as much, and not the same way.

- Things matter again, even though there's no one there to share them with at the same level I used to share things with Kelvin.

- I don't miss the intimacy as much anymore.

- No more turning my head to look back.

This almost feels like a clean slate, which makes this summer trip the most important thing I'd done for myself this year, in spite of the sacrifices.

I've gotten used to being single again. I'm enjoying life again and looking forward to things and excited by possibilities. Flattery is easier to accept and I'm enjoying the freedom to do and feel and experience.

Doesn't mean I don't crave intimacy - I do crave it tremendously. It's like chocolate now - I crave it but I won't die without it (yet). These days, thinking about it makes me feel like a born-again teenager - dreaming of it gives an adolescent rush that's probably even greater than a real occurrence might give, not least because dreaming is my only option now. I want so much to experience the rush of a new involvement again, but since I'm not quite a hopeless hedonist, am still perfectly happy to stay back.

Another interesting realisation: there's still a romantic somewhere in that part of me that dreams.

I dream of fingers gliding along jaw lines. Warm breath and soft voice on the ear. Long meaningful looks. Heart-thumping anticipation while inches apart, close enough to feel heat, breath and energy.

Alone in my room, I listen to The Blower's Daughter in the darkest hours of night and let it sap me away.

Yes, I'm still generally a cynical bitch. But I guess I never lost the little girl I once was. She's in there, and peeking out more each day, in spite of all the cumulative baggage I carry over years of disappointments.

My heart is alive and well. Must keep reminding myself that.

Parties, hormones and such

Am just back from Garry's birthday thingy and am still quite happy (read: slightly high-ish), which isn't a good thing, considering I drove home. I shouldn't do that again, even though I hold my alcohol really well.

It was fun, and there were a number people I know there, including my dear Lina and Euj, whose faces appeared less oily than mine:The theme was red, which I clearly forgot. Was too paisei to sing at the open mic. Some of Garry's friends sang up a storm, though.

Realised I wanna get 'happy' and have fun again soon, hopefully this time I'll actually get to party while I'm high. Was supposed to go to St James with KS + gang but they ended up going to some guy's place in Jalan Kayu, which I was really reluctant to go to, so home for me, quick MSN chat with Winds, now wishing I could've gone clubbing. Hope I find kaki for Sirens tomorrow night.

Am constantly itching to go out this couple of weeks, for some reason.

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On a completely different topic, I realised I've been hormonal in ways that are completely different from the way I was before. It's an evolving thing for anyone, but I noticed I've been going for (or at least ogling) types that I never even bothered with before. Maybe it's the sudden singledom after a long period of 'appreciating someone for their qualities', maybe it's just me being generally more comfortable with enjoying both the profound and the shallow in sexual attraction. Or I'm just getting more open about things with age.

Or I'm just very, very hormonal.

Odd thing is, I found myself connecting with a couple of the exact type of guys I usually would give a wide berth to, i.e. guys with factors like (very) good looks, age (I'd previously always preferred older guys), ego, social activity, popularity and extroversion, mobility, dissimilar interests, etc.

That can't be just hormones. I am/was actually drawn to the things about them that I felt, that had nothing to do with the superficial qualities. Good looks don't right away pique my deeper interest and don't impress me in a way that matters if I know next to nothing else about the guy.

Largely wavelength, I think - I'm always drawn to wavelength, even when unexpected.

Like with Kev. What I grew to feel for him was borne not out of his hotness, intelligence, eloquence, knowledge of goodness knows how many languages, his oozing testosterone, nor his sweet talk...and other qualities that're best left unmentioned. None of that impressed me enough to draw a deeper response. What made me start to fall were the glimpses of the unguarded him that I managed to sneak peeks at, the part that's indescribable, soft and warm, and rarely seen. The part of him I suspect is the only thing he doesn't fully have control of, and the one thing he can't use to impress. And it was all the more precious to me. I never saw it again after the last time he called me from high European terrain.

I've digressed. I suspect I'm thinking about this too much.

But ya, singledom is fun. A girl can't help but feel flattered when experiencing the kind of attention guys give to single chicks, except perhaps when the attention comes from the iffiest of characters.

Still, it's good to feel like a woman with some degree of desirability. Everyone needs that affirmation sometimes. I'd been missing that for a while before I met Kev. (Yes, even while I was still with Kelvin.)

My feelings for Kev are very much tapered and I don't miss him the way I did, but I'll still always remember how having him helped me so much through that time and did so much for me, even though it wasn't his intention. Made me feel wanted again, made me feel like a woman again, made me feel almost loved again, definitely made me feel special again. And made me realise my heart was alive again.

Thank you, Kevjn. I could've loved you. It's time for me to move on.

Iridescence

Spotted this while on the bus on the way to location. I was actually checking out the way the cloud's outline was glowing when I noticed the iridescence, managed to get a decent shot without trees in the way. I've never seen iridescence so clearly and so persistently before, so this was a treat.

Was toting around my camera (OK, I know I tote it around everywhere anyway) hoping to take a few pics with the cast of the shoot, especially since, by some coincidence or simply because Singapore is so small, I was cast with 1) an acquaintance, 2) another acquaintance's girlfriend, 3) someone choreographing a show my friends are in, and 4) the lead whom I just found out also knows at least one of my friends. Didn't manage to take any pics with the others, though, as everyone scooted off at the end of a long week. Got just one.

Landmarks of the year (so far)

9 January: Niece Caitlyn is born

17 February: My four-year relationship ends

27 April: Kevjn happens

26 May: Kevjn leaves for Geneva

6 June: On North Diversion Road opens

15 June: I fly to Santa Cruz

12 August: The Perseid shower peaks

14 August: I see my first meteors from on board a plane

15 August: I arrive back in Singapore with my peace of mind

Waiting for the next landmark.

Popped my St James cherry

At last I made it to St James, somehow never got round to joining friends there till this Saturday past. Good jazz band at Bellini Room, loved their Canadian import, Jessie (Something) with her sultry vocals and killer figure.

Not much else to say about it, really, so here're pictures, for no particular reason.

Just discovered Kal shares my birthday month.
Caught the decidedly, eh, affectionate Hugo in mid-kook.
Isn't it weird that I'm the only one smiling? And I'm the one with prominent canines. Oh wait...

Another unwelcome memory shot

Only just now, I did a strange thing. I picked up the phone to call my sister. Pushed the "talk" button, and too quickly, before I knew what I was doing, I rapidly dialled 9, 6, 9, and stopped myself with a jerk with my left thumb hovering over the 8 which it was about to push. I quickly hung up, spooked.

I was autopilot dialling Kelvin's number.

I have NO IDEA why that suddenly popped up, completely unintentionally. I hadn't dialled that number in 6 months. And it wasn't even close to the number I intended to dial. Why the devil would I be dialling it now??

Eek-a-mouse*.

Then again, if after 9 years I still remember WJ's home number, I guess this isn't that shocking. Just unnerving.

* Totally random fact: there actually is a reggae singer called Eek-a-Mouse.

Double twinge

#1

Been sorting and clearing out stuff these few days, which is no mean feat for a pack rat like me. Been only half as brutal as I'd like to have been, but managed to clear out quite a bit of not-so-functional and sort-of-nostalgic things on top of the old stuff I never touch anymore.

Then, while going through a box of miscellaneous items, I came across a bunch of half-cut photos. Photos taken with Kelvin. I'd been using a bunch of these to make magnets for him in a moment of romantic inspiration for Valentine's Day last year, and these were the leftovers - I'd intended to use them make a few magnets for my own magnetic board sometime but hadn't used all of them.

I hadn't hurt over Kelvin for some time, especially not these past three and a half months. Until last night. The memory of intimacy and the best love of my life started to hurt again. But briefly. I dumped them in the bin.

Then, only just now, I found the last birthday card he sent me (gosh, how many more hidden things are there lying around?). To hell with privacy, these are some of the things he wrote on the card:

"I'm so lucky aren't I? Thank you for letting me be a part of your life and I hope that I can be a better boyfriend to you always... I keep a copy of Yeats' poem in my office and I look at it each day. I love you."

(The Yeats poem in question, "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven", is my favourite, and I'd made him a little bookmark with the poem handwritten on it early on in our relationship.)

All this written less than four months before our breakup. About a year or more after he started to fall out of love. Lying fuck.

I hate aching for worthlessness.

Last Friday night, was with Euj and Lina when it suddenly occurred to me that it was exactly half a year after the breakup, and I told them so. Their first reaction: raised their glasses and toasted to it. Remembering that helps to wash over the ache now.

#2

Finally got a chance to webcam with Kevjn last night. Suffice to say the connection sucked on both MSN and Skype and we could hardly keep a continuous chat going. Whatever conversation we managed was somehow awkward and stunted, and VERY lagged.

But seeing him again was something else.

Made me miss him again. Nowhere near as much as before, but I miss him all the same, even after all other things considered.

And the curious part of me wonders what he does or doesn't feel by this time. It doesn't matter much, but I'm always curious about everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I guess it's healthy. Missing people makes you feel alive and look forward to something. Missing my sis and the kids so badly makes me keep looking forward and planning for the next time we see each other (possibly just after Christmas?). Missing Kev in this mild way keeps me aware that my heart is alive and yet doesn't hurt me, and makes me look forward to his next trip home in the near-ish future (whether I'll still feel anything by then is secondary).

I like missing this way.

Pick out your cloud

"If there is a horizontal line
that runs from the map off your body
Straight through the land, shooting up
Right through my heart

Will this horizontal line
When asked know how to find
Where you end
Where I begin

Pick out your cloud"

~Your Cloud, Tori Amos~

When was the last time I felt that way?

Last glimpses

Just a few pics from the last part of the trip. Full album of photos on my Webshots page (http://community.webshots.com/user/andromeda_carina).

Not much of a shot, but I loved the textured gloom of the high fog. If you enlarge (click on pic) and look closely you can see the bit of sunlight streaming through the break in the fog.
My sis has a thing for hats on her kids. Caitlyn had the pleasure of this bunny hat on a colder day.
On the notice board in Sean's pre-school. Good idea. (Their policy is for all kids to be picked up by 2pm latest.)
More fat Harley riders. Not exactly tearing up the asphalt, they were slowing us down on the highway.
How did he do that? He didn't manage to blow out the flames, but he managed to topple one of the candles.
Grrr! Must be a love-hate relationship with strawberries. He looks like he was about to murder the pie.
This sweet baby we met at a mall was around the same age as Caitlyn but was a great deal smaller and had a great deal more hair. She was extremely sociable and kept reaching out to touch Caitlyn. Awwww.
Tom was having fun putting his sunglasses on the baby.
Sean started to get jealous so he got to don the sunnies too. He, on the other hand, refused to smile.
Pigeon Point lighthouse along Highway 1. It's some sort of historic landmark, and the view from that vantage point is really wonderful.
Sean loved the wooden walkway and kept running up and down and (gulp) trying to climb the fence.
The colour of the ocean was awesome that day. (The colour of the water varies according to conditions, e.g. fog, cloud cover, angle of the sun, etc.)
Spotted this little flock flying in formation. Too bad I missed taking a snap when their formation was more apparent from our point of view.
Can you tell I like the fence?
The water swirling around the rocks was compelling to watch.
I like this little walkway too.
I hardly take any photos with my sis every trip, so I insisted on taking at least one with her that day. If we look cold, it's because we were - it was very sunny but very windy, and wind along this coast is always cold.
Speaking of wind, we drove past a stretch of beach that is apparently popular with kite surfers. Spotted a few of them doing their sails and leaps, but this is the best picture I managed from within the car, only captured their kites.
Could see the same few from another point where we stopped (click to enlarge). A windsurfer joined in too, apparently.
The same view framed.
At the airport giving my favourite (and only) nephew a goodbye squeeze. Isn't he friggin tall for 4 years old?
Behind us is display cases used for varying little art exhibits. Strangely, the current exhibit was of Loony Tunes cartoons - on display are animation cels, sketches, toys (they looked old and/or vintage and presumably valuable) and such. Vintage Porky Pig toys are fugly.