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1. Where is your cell phone? Nearby
2. Describe your boyfriend/girlfriend? IBM
3. Your hair? Long-ish
4. Your mother? Dowager
5. Your father? Workaholic
6. Your favourite item? Book
7. Your dream last night? Unremembered
8. Your favourite drink? Shooter
9. Your dream car? Sleek
10. The room you are in? Bedroom
11. Your ex? Ugh
12. Your fear? Pain
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Established
14. Who did you hang out with last night? Elaine
15. What you're not? Bimbo
19. The last thing you did? Sleep
20. What are you wearing? Chemise
22. Your favourite book? Sandman
23. The last thing you ate? Bakuteh
24. Your life? Evolving
25. Your mood? Pensive
26. Your friends? Fantastic
27. What are you thinking about right now? Heat
28. Your car? None
29. What are you doing at the moment? (Duh)
30. Your summer? California
31. Your relationship status? Dead
32. What is on your TV? Nothing
33. When is the last time you laughed? Night
34. Last time you cried? Monday
35. School? Past

Without

Went for Sirens again with E, toted a couple of friends along. In spite of how far I've come along, it still feels so weird going without Kel, even though there's no way in hell I'd want him there now. In fact, the last times I went for Sirens without him after the breakup, I went with mortal dread of bumping into him, though I'm almost sure he wouldn't be going anywhere near where he thinks I might be. Avoidance has always been his thing.

Well, actually, I go just about everywhere in mortal dread of bumping into him. I've already bumped into helluva lot of people who mutually know us. In this cramp little island and the sheer number of people who know us both, what are the chances of steering clear of each others' paths completely?

But the odd thing is, I've only chanced upon an ex-boyfriend only twice ever (and one time was not entirely by chance, since we both had to be at the same function, and it was the same man). I've never ever accidentily bumped into any other ex-es or quasi-ex-es or even the flings. So there's hope, I guess.

It's been two and a half months since we split up. It's been almost two months since I fell completely out of love with him. Amazing. Four years in love and it took less than a month to drop out of it, albeit involuntarily. But to stay out of love - that takes choice and will (remember this, those of you out there who need to; you know who you are). I think maybe I've had too much practice with dealing with heartbreak and have become pragmatic with my heart.

Having control over your heart and emotional reactions to things - so much of a good thing and an undesirable thing at the same time. But at least I have a good amount of it right now. Control over yourself is always good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One unexpected night very recently, I suddenly found myself feeling loved without loving or being loved, feeling cared for without caring or being cared for. And this felt strangely liberating, if only a little. All this without needing to have a man to love. And how ironic to experience all this with an (almost) unexpected party and not with the one I loved during our last times together.

Maybe it's just that I'd gone too long without (more than one thing). And I'm not just referring to the past two months.

One night of pure frivolity can turn out to do so much more than just satisfy a raging itch. [Random: this reminds me of an episode of Frasier (yes, again) when Niles ended up in bed with Lilith and they wake up in distress over what they'd done. But in the end, they realised how much good that one sexual encounter did for each other for various reasons.]

Think I'm starting to get the hang of not loving any man. Each time this happens, it's liberating and bitter at the same time. But at least the void is starting to fill with more than just phantoms.

Wow. I'm doing just fine without him/us even though the hate is probably here to stay.

Afterglow

Thank you.

Un-

Recently learned the concept of compound adjectives watching History Boys. Very useful in conveying loneliness. We all know about loneliness.

"Unkissed. Unrejoicing. Unconfessed. Unembraced."

"It's a turn of phrase that brings with it a sense of not sharing, of being out of it...The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you've never met. Maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out and taken yours."

'Nuff said.

Exquisite Pain

Image courtesy of Forced Entertainment

Watched Exquisite Pain on Saturday by myself. Good thing too, as I think a lot of people didn't like it. I did like it, though, will explain in a minute.

This is a summary of the synopsis: When a lover fails to meet a woman as promised in New Delhi, mid-way between where he was in Paris and where she was in Japan, the woman is devastated, and she deemed it the day of her greatest suffering. She asked some friends, "When did you suffer most?" and records their stories of pain, each accompanied by a photograph.

The concept was extremely simple. Two desks, one for each performer, each equipped with a script and some drinking water. Behind each desk, a screen flashing an image to go with each tale. One male performer, one female, each seated at a desk, reading from the script. Technically, that's it. No blocking, no moving about, no dialogue with each other.

They take turns to tell the tales of pain. Hers is always the same tale of the woman's heartbreak in New Delhi, but each time she recounts the story, it is slightly different.

After the third or fourth time she tells the same story, I could hear some of the audience start to fidget in impatience. Near the end, the guy next to me was nodding off. I could see why many of the audience got bored, probably because of the lack of action and what they deemed to be repetition.

But to me, it wasn't repetition at all, not in its purest sense. It certainly helped that my own very recent experiences lent me complete understanding of the woman's journey.

And that's what the repeated re-telling of her tale was - a journey. It began "Yesterday, the man I love left me," then "2 days ago, the man I love left me." And it goes on, until the 90-something-th day (skipping some days in between, of course) when she tells it for the last time. Each consecutive time is only slightly different from the last, but you realise that by the time she's gotten to the end, the way she tells the tale has completely changed.

And isn't that how we all tell our tales of pain? We vary them according to how near the pain is, who we're telling it to, what our current mood is, the details that are suddenly remembered, details that no longer matter. In other words, our perspectives of events alter and shift bit by bit according to how we are dealing with them.

I was intrigued from start to end, probably because being primarily a writer and one that's focussed on perspectives and sensory experience, I was deeply interested in the words and the act of telling these stories. I was caught up with visualising each story in my own mind, put together by little more than short tales told in simple language. Each phrase and word shifts with a purpose and correspondingly shifting state of mind, and it was these that fascinated me. Each shift moved us a step down her journey from fresh heartbreak to coming to terms with it.

I say well done for an intriguing emotional journey and different approach.

Cute bling

You've gotta check out these CUTE accessories someone I know designed and is selling. I intend to buy this brooch:

(image courtesy of Miss ConfidAnce)

Check out Elaine's website at www.miss-confidance.com.

First standy

Our first standy is up!! On Wednesday, this huge standy went up in the foyer of Drama Centre. Was FOH-ing for Blithe Spirit so I got a good look as soon as it went up. It's hard to miss - it faces the entrance of the foyer and out-sizes the other standies on either side of it.

Our ad's also in the Blithe Spirit programme book. I hear that we've already had enquiries about tickets! Woohoo!

Might as well put in this first plug:

EARLY-BIRD SPECIAL for On North Diversion Road, Y&W's first public production! Book your tickets before 9 May and get 15% off the full-priced $21 tickets! Student concession tickets at $15. The show runs from 6 to 17 June 2007 at Play Den (The Arts House), 8pm nightly. 3pm matinees on weekends.

One humid afternoon

Might as well post these pics since I took them. Spotted while sitting at a cafe along Arab Street during our dance shoe shopping day - al fresco on that humid, sweltering afternoon.

Have you ever seen such a giant Mentos?

Leslie was immensely pleased with the vibrant colours of his banana split. He promptly went on to finish the bottom two flavours BEFORE the strawberry. We always knew he was a brilliant guy.

Eleanor's little Erin is a shy cutie who's extra coy when she's sleepy.

I was wondering why anyone would hang this many rugs out their window when I noticed the business signboard. Oh. I'm not sure if it's a good thing that the rugs match the colour of the walls.

Hurl!

Gaaaaah...Spent most of Sunday night/Monday morning face down in the bathroom with my dinner coming out upwards. I still have no idea if it's food poisoning or stomach flu. Either way, I've been unable to eat for two days and can't find a natural position to take without feeling nauseas.

For added fun, major migraine's kicked in because of a lack of carbs, which means my head feels very funky, my sense of balance is off-whack and I'm even more nauseas.

All that wasn't reason enough to prevent my mum from dragging me out to run errands today though. So I was up early, feeling better but still decidedly green, lugging my ass to Raffles Place because she's afraid she'll lose a choice spot for a safe deposit box.

And I've volunteered FOH for Blithe Spirit tonight.

I seldom get sick. Why do I always get sick at the worst of times?

The last two times I got a bad flu - 1) Sis & little nephew Sean came to visit and I had to wear a mask so I wouldn't infect either of them, 2) I was visiting my sis who was almost full-term with her new baby (Caitlyn) so I went around with a mask AGAIN.

The last two times I got food poisoning - 2 birthdays in a row, and no one else at the same meals got sick!!

Only going back

March 2005: I'm standing near the northern tip of Monterey Bay, along West Cliff in Santa Cruz, looking west towards the setting sun. This is one of my favourite places in the world, a place that I go to as often as I can.I'm thinking of this picture that I took back then and it reminds the wonderment I feel every time I'm there. Because each time I'm there, it feels like I don't need anyone at all to feel all the romance and depth of my life: one moment in time stretching out from my self to the eternity of the sunset and the ocean.

I'm thinking of this picture because this place is the only thing I'm truly looking forward to at this point in time. Going back to Santa Cruz to spend time in the crisp temperate air, far away from the stifling, saturated smell of here and now. Finally spending time with ones I love and can endure spending time with - it's been too long since I spent proper time with my sis.

But I think I just need to get away, to make a tangible slash in my present state, to make a clean separation from my current sinkhole of a life and start fresh after the summer. I really need this. In spite of all the things I've had to give up or put on hold because of this trip, I think it's necessary.

Nothing else seems to be going right. This year has just been sucky from start to present. My passions have dulled somewhat. The music that ordinarily fills my life is still there, but it now makes me mournful and frustrated. I don't feel as keenly the driving need to pursue all the things that have filled my soul, and knowing this makes me feel less whole. My music, theatre, prose and astronomy.

I want to write and write and write, but yet I don't feel like it. They say the low point in a writer's life is when creative inspiration is more prolific. But I beg to differ. It just feels like a thirsty well that's drying out and only has sludge at the bottom, threatening to cake into dry mud when a hot day comes. I looked at the story ideas I penned a few months ago. They all seem so alien and strange to me now, and reading over them, I almost couldn't believe I could have written them.

But one idea that I'd written on that page stands out, and it is the only one I understand now. Just one line: "You were gone today. Sorry, you said."

On the slippery Road to indignity

OK, I might as well post this, and hopefully generate some interest in the upcoming Y&W production On North Diversion Road (by Tony Perez) in June. We did the photoshoot in February (digression: I hate typing "February") when the noon sun was baking us to crisps. It's a wonderful photo, which unfortunately happens to be one of the most unflattering pictures of me ever. See if you can spot me (you don't get a prize).
It was a bloody sweltering day, hot enough to give me a mild sunburn (but of course, when we got down to taking the photos, it got cloudy). Which means the hood of that car was a FREAKIN' frying pan, hence there was no way to perch comfortably on that hood. Wonderful. I'm a bright yellow piece of trailer trash with balconies baking my ass (and palm) on a red hot hood. I would've made record sales if I'd strutted down Geylang right after.

Oh, but do check out Candice's expression on the extreme right.

How quickly people can get into character... Us just moments before the actual shot, Jas and Issy still struggling with the ropes.

Ah, and speaking of ropes, Little Jon got to be the lucky one to get "trussed up like a turkey", thanks to the, ahem, creative vision of Big Jon.

Looking every bit as dangerous as she probably can be. I find her the most magnetic person in our bunch. Pity I don't shag women.

For the record, only the clothes and the orange belong to me. And yes, that's a wig.

Reminded

Last night, I happened to remember some of my early sweet, tender moments, especially those of my first relationship when everything was new and beautiful and innocent. And I was able to smile. More importantly, I was able to smile about it while still being able to laugh at the joker who was my then-boyfriend. He had ceased to matter so completely that I was able to smile about the lovely times and mean it, and able to go tsk tsk tsk over the bad times and not hurt too much over them.

I'm nowhere near being able to smile about all the good times I shared with The Recent Him. Not even close.

Was supping with some friends the other night when someone made this passing comment: "I know firsthand that J has an oily face." Involuntarily and immediately, that made me think of The Recent Him's face. I could immediately feel exactly how his oily face felt under my fingers, and the memory of how his cheek smelt was just on the brink of recollection when I had to roughly shove it out of my mind - it would have hurt and disgusted me at the same time.

That made me upset momentarily. I hate these involuntary and uncalled-for stabs of memories. Seeing him in my mind or in pictures makes me feel a little physically sick, but mostly angry. Some of the memories almost want to become fond ones, but I remember who and what he has revealed himself to be, and they become nauseating, akin to the feeling one gets upon realising that something you thought was nice turned out to be some cruel prank.

I'd rather think of good times from previous relationship/involvements.

I'd much rather think of my first kiss in a quiet playground with a view of the highway. The first time I held a boy who cried in my arms under the shade of tall trees. The times I felt the exhilirating tugs of sexual tension, heightened by the need to refrain from speaking of it. The first time I made love on a kitchen floor and spotted our reflection on the oven door. The times we went stomping all the way down the long corridors in the staff wing in school in the fashion of Klayman from The Neverhood. The time I had someone's hand on my thigh and didn't realise I was being hit on until long after the incident. The strangely liberating feeling of kissing someone and realising that I felt nothing, not even after 4 years of wondering what-if. The times I was laid by someone who really knew what he was doing.

Yeah, I'll stick to good memories.

Meh

Just occurred to me today one of the things that's changed as a result of the parting.

Things matter less.

The little things that complement and amuse and confound and annoy. The tiny little occurrences that strike me in small ways. I used to share them with him, almost every single one of them, and my life somehow felt richer that way. That these things mattered - in really small, minor ways, but it felt like they still contributed to the colours of my life.

Now that I have no one to share them with on a daily, moment-by-moment basis, they don't matter as much anymore.

I sat through a really long Mass today and the priest said a bunch of really silly things. Meh.

I had a really nice lunch at Rendezvous today. Meh.

I'm having a really nice weekend - my parents were out last night and they're out right now, which means I've had the house all to myself, which is what I really like. First thing I did when I arrived home alone was sing loudly. But before I got through the song, it ceased to matter and I stopped singing.

Meh.

Last year, I was finally able to say, "I'm happy" and mean it. But that cynical part of me felt that good things were not meant to last. And waddya know...I was right. My happiness was partly a lie even as I said those words.

Am I?

I think I may be depressed but I'm not sure.

I'm still not sleeping well. I just don't want to go to sleep. And when I do go to sleep, I have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. I don't remember my dreams like before but sometimes wake up feeling disturbed, like I'd dreamed about something upsetting but can't remember what.

I don't feel like doing anything but go out and stay in the company of friends. Going out alone is not good enough. I need people.

Other than my blog (which isn't 'real' writing), I don't feel like writing anything at all. Not even all the story ideas I've got tucked away. Work is such a tedious chore in a way it hasn't been before. I'm unable to concentrate as well and easily lapse into just turning on the music and doing nothing. And then seeking out more friends to chat with so I feel a little less lonely, even if it's pointless prattle. But I'm not good at small talk, never was.

Today I didn't chat with anyone (my parents don't count as real communication), and the day feels empty and gone.

I alternate between feeling fine and dandy and cheerful about things, and sinking into a sucking emptiness.

I often think about that night it ended. I don't think I ever cried so hard or experienced so much grief in my life. It's like when he left he ripped out a large part of me which sometimes fills up with random phantom things and sometimes just sits empty.

Often I feel perfectly fine, but there's always this nagging feeling that something's not right.

I guess I'm still a long way off from having my life normal. My friends bring me so much joy, but I fear I depend on them too much. Strangely, I depended on myself so much more when I was in a relationship. What the hell has happened to me?

I keep saying "Daffy's always ok in the end." I may not be right.

Playing doctor?

Was shopping for nostalgic goodies with the girls in Concourse back in February, and in the midst of our coo-ing over the plethora of wonderful toys, I saw this "Medical" set:

It seems like a perfectly cute, girly set to play doctor with, but what caught my attention was the thermometer:
These photos probably don't give you a good idea of the size of the plastic fake thermometer, but my estimate puts it at around 10cm long and 3cm in diameter.

WHERE does one use a thermometer of those dimensions, toy or no toy??

Some of the other implements are a bit of a mystery to me, like that round shocking-pink thing with white spots. I'm not sure I want to deduce what the strange spatula-like thing does, and I rather hope that the tool at the bottom right hand corner is meant to be tweezers rather than tongs. This is clearly not meant to be a very educational set for kids.

Scmoooooozer

Wow, I was officially "schmoozing" at a fashion show, or at least according to the good people at Stomp. Whatever it is, it was a great eye fest, even though the day was rather uncomfortable - sweltering hot one moment and then pouring rain the next.

Do Lina and I really look alike? We both don't really think so, but enough people have commented that we do, so it's kinda interesting.

Lina invited me to the event, though I'm not even sure whose designs were on display. I sure as hell appreciated what else was on display, though - lots of very good male bodies and some pretty good faces to go with the bodies. Specimen provided below:

Two pictures of us on the Stomp website. Almost famous. Check out the cute chick in black next to me - she goes by the very memorable name Autumn. And this was the first time I actually had a Sex on the Beach at the one appropriate place (that's what I'm holding in the photo).

It's a (not-so-) Beauty World

Saw the veiled sun over Clarke Quay while stopped at the red light on my way home from Thomas' place. Managed to whip out the camera, change settings, adjust exposure and snap two shots just in time for the green light. Not a wonderful shot, but I still like it.

I'm getting good at taking photos while driving.

Beauty World auditions were a bust. I guess I should've expected to be thrashed at the dance portion, being two left feet. Still, managed to take home pretty cool bruises on my left knee, big and bright enough to rival those I got from Jing Hong's class.

Didn't even get to do the damned song and monologue I prepared so hard for. Got canned right after the dance audition along with those who came not expecting to have to already know how to pirouette and twirl. Or slide into a half-split gracefully.

At least the stress and pressure to perform is over (just for now). Sigh...time to stop putting off those dance lessons.

New wish list

Hey all, here's my latest wish list - pretty please do come with me to watch these?

Exquisite Pain: 21 April, 8pm
MEMORY - Human Remains: 3 May or 5 May, both 8pm
Three Sisters: 5 May, 8pm
A Midsummer Night's Dream: 4-13 May, 7.30pm

Secondly, I want to whine. I won't be able to catch a single Arts Fest show this year!! NDR (the Y&W June show) prep and show dates cancel out just about all the early June options and I'll be away for the remainder of the festival.

AND...I'm gonna miss IAN MCKELLEN and the Royal Shakespeare Co in Singapore in July! YAAAAAAARRRGGGHH!! *thumping head against wall* Sir Ian's going to be doing Lear here and I'm going to be more than 8,000 miles away! Sigh...everything happens in summer, does it not?

First Asian Boys, then the last 3 shows of NDR, then Arts Fest, and then Sir Ian. The list keeps growing...

OK, quit whining, Daffy. Think positive. Think positive.

*THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK*