Will be driving south to LA today (Wednesday), be there till Sunday. Finally going to see my bro-in-law's side of the family - have only met his brother and one cousin+wife so far. Massive family gathering in the pipeline. Also going to spend a night with the family of my sis's close friend - MORE kids under 4 years old under one roof! Hurray! (Hang on while I pass out.) They're contemplating bringing the kids to Disneyland, but I'm hoping they'll change their mind. I somehow don't feel up to anything particularly high energy, am sorta mellow and tired this trip, for some reason. I'm not even terribly keen on travelling to LA, though I'd wanted to on previous occasions. I don't know why. I'm happy just doing relaxing things here in Santa Cruz, hopefully drive up the coast a little and the beauty of the ocean meeting shores and cliffs. The trouble with travelling with kids is that you don't get to go very far or do very much, and going anywhere, even popping by the nearby supermarket, is a logistically intense operation.
Think I may still be a little depressed, and weirdly impatient for time to move on. But it's getting better by the day. Think I'm also not used to having to deal with a child going through a phase where he's extremely difficult on a daily basis, plus a baby who, in spite of being completely adorable and agreeable, still requires loads of attention. I don't know how my sis does it alone.
Something occurred to me the other day when we were driving north along the coast on the way to brunch at a tiny, quaint town. I was looking out the window at the gorgeous ocean (at that point it was the Pacific Ocean proper, no longer the Monterey Bay). I realised that how I feel towards large bodies of water and coastlines goes deeper than just appreciating them as pretty or romantic places to be. I realised that the way I feel when I'm around them is the same as when I fall in love. I'm in love with the ocean, in love with the sea, in love with how the waters sidle up to the shoreline, in love with how they collide with the cliffs, in love with the undulations of the waves, in love with the white caps spawn from gentle winds, in love with the graceful curve of a breaking wave, in love with how light can dance and play and smash into a million pieces of gold on the water. In love with the water not in spite of its inconstant nature, but because of it - its eternity, its ever-changing face. Like the theatre, the ocean is a tempestuous yet eternal lover, and it will always be a part of my heart.
I'm always in love when I'm here...and I don't need a male to be.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Summertime and the livin' is...
The already wonderful weather has improved and we've had loads of sunshine these few days. Yesterday, we headed down to the beach by the Boardwalk for the first summer concert of the year, followed by dinner at Hula, this place that serves GREAT Hawaiian cuisine (I didn't even know Hawaiians had their own cuisine). Had an unexpected but very ego-boosting flirtation with an exceedingly cute waiter with dark, Mediterranean looks...whom I thought was gay at first sight (I know, AGAIN) but turned out to be a case of my wonky gaydar again. Was very tempted to get his number, but the thought of an even shorter fling and with transport constraints (hey, this is suburbia: no car = no action) dissuaded me...even though he made a point of letting me know he was single and what time he was getting off work - woot!! For once, having the kids out with me didn't turn out to be a stud-repellent, probably because my sis and Tom were with me.
The spirit of summertime fun - rides and rollercoasters.
I miss this slow, above-it-all ride. Used to have a ball riding it with my sis, joking about losing a shoe or spitting from the seats, giggling nervously when it got too chilly up there, threatening to pee on passers-by below, etc. But the queue for it was waaaaay too long yesterday.
I forgot the name of the band, but by the sound of them, they were most definitely from the 70s. They were really groovin' - not only did they have a really good female trumpet player who looked old enough to be a grandma, they had a guy who was dancing AND sign-language-ing every song (you can see him right in front).
Caitlyn in her floppy sun hat.
Throngs of people enjoying the music both on the beach and from the Boardwalk.
Remember the cult vampire movie The Lost Boys from the 80s? The dangling-from-the-railroad scene was filmed at this very bridge. And no, the drop from the bridge to the water below isn't far at all - movie fog covers all.
I felt bad to take a picture of them, but there were a few girls in front of me (you can see one in the corner) who were posing for tied-to-the-railroad type photos. I was sniggering behind them when I saw what they were doing.
Caught this great view of the sun catching the ocean spray haze and reflecting off the river on the way back to the car.
Today had a copious amount of sunshine but still had lovely, cool breeze, so I decided to tan in the backyard. Unfortunately, my sister's fold-out lawn chair doesn't recline, so I was forced to do this in order to tan my back. If I look grouchy, that's because I wasn't too happy when my sis, tickled by the sight, decided to snap a pic of me in this awkward position.
Yes, I wasn't pleased to be photographed.
Sean had a fine old time with bubbles - blowing em and chasing em.
Iced tea in dry heat = heaven in a straw...or two. My sis says I look like some kind of insect in this shot. Lovely.
An attempt at composing a still-life shot. Don't think the eeny meeny macros even shows up.
Only one blackberry from my sister's berry bush remained uneaten by the birds. We're saving it for Sean as he loves berries.
Don't ask. She just suddenly did this so I thought why not? Snap.
I'd decided to tan in the backyard...and forgot that we were bringing Sean to a pool party in the afternoon. Hence,I ended up getting almost 4 hours of sun in total today. And wouldn't you know it, the reddest, angriest burns are on my shoulders and boobs. Ow. I'll be regretting this tomorrow.
That's all, folks. Till the next summer update.
The spirit of summertime fun - rides and rollercoasters.
I miss this slow, above-it-all ride. Used to have a ball riding it with my sis, joking about losing a shoe or spitting from the seats, giggling nervously when it got too chilly up there, threatening to pee on passers-by below, etc. But the queue for it was waaaaay too long yesterday.
I forgot the name of the band, but by the sound of them, they were most definitely from the 70s. They were really groovin' - not only did they have a really good female trumpet player who looked old enough to be a grandma, they had a guy who was dancing AND sign-language-ing every song (you can see him right in front).
Caitlyn in her floppy sun hat.
Throngs of people enjoying the music both on the beach and from the Boardwalk.
Remember the cult vampire movie The Lost Boys from the 80s? The dangling-from-the-railroad scene was filmed at this very bridge. And no, the drop from the bridge to the water below isn't far at all - movie fog covers all.
I felt bad to take a picture of them, but there were a few girls in front of me (you can see one in the corner) who were posing for tied-to-the-railroad type photos. I was sniggering behind them when I saw what they were doing.
Caught this great view of the sun catching the ocean spray haze and reflecting off the river on the way back to the car.
Today had a copious amount of sunshine but still had lovely, cool breeze, so I decided to tan in the backyard. Unfortunately, my sister's fold-out lawn chair doesn't recline, so I was forced to do this in order to tan my back. If I look grouchy, that's because I wasn't too happy when my sis, tickled by the sight, decided to snap a pic of me in this awkward position.
Yes, I wasn't pleased to be photographed.
Sean had a fine old time with bubbles - blowing em and chasing em.
Iced tea in dry heat = heaven in a straw...or two. My sis says I look like some kind of insect in this shot. Lovely.
An attempt at composing a still-life shot. Don't think the eeny meeny macros even shows up.
Only one blackberry from my sister's berry bush remained uneaten by the birds. We're saving it for Sean as he loves berries.
Don't ask. She just suddenly did this so I thought why not? Snap.
I'd decided to tan in the backyard...and forgot that we were bringing Sean to a pool party in the afternoon. Hence,I ended up getting almost 4 hours of sun in total today. And wouldn't you know it, the reddest, angriest burns are on my shoulders and boobs. Ow. I'll be regretting this tomorrow.That's all, folks. Till the next summer update.
Friday, June 22, 2007
The weight of the silence is killing me
"And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time...
...Did I say that I want to leave it all behind
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you"
~The Blower's Daughter, Damien Rice~
I'm frustrated. Am alternating between serene regard of these confounded thoughts and complete and utter frustration at not being able to deal with them on my own. I hate silence. I'm frustrated.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Images of Santa Cruz
As promised, here are a few photos. Don't have the software (nor inclination) to edit the photos, so do excuse some crooked or ill-composed shots.
Looking south from West Cliff - to the right of the picture, you can see a little further down Monterey Bay, but the day wasn't clear enough to see all the way across the Bay, so I didn't bother trying to get a picture of that (that would have been further right beyond view of this photo). The Boardwalk would have been in view to the left.
Birds galore, and pelicans seemed to reign on this particular spot. Believe it or not, these cute patches of winter/spring plants grow wild - they're not planted in this arrangement on purpose.
MORE birds perching on rocks [click the pic for larger view]. Avoiding getting pooped on is always a concern along this stretch.
See the seals? They were having a fine old time sunbathing on their regular rock. They congregate here so much that it's nicknamed Seal Rock. They provided the background chorus to my sister's wedding solemnisation by the lighthouse nine years ago.
Duh.
Looks like the lighthouse has to be moved in even further pretty soon. This cliff edge has eroded really, really fast.
Seems that some swallows have made an apartment complex of the lighthouse.
We parked next to this really neat Harley. The rider later turned out to be some unexciting-looking middle-ager.
Sean sporting a cheeky grin.
Think we need some of these signs in Singapore.
East Cliff. The tide was so low that the shallow kelp beds were exposed. We saw surfers wading ankle-deep pretty far out.
Ah, Santa Cruz, the land of fruits, nuts and flakes, according to their locals.
Foggy view. Spot the surfers bobbing around.
Just thought this cactus-type plant looked neat.
And this particular cactus has its own, ahem, appeal.
Boats galore in the little harbour.
We bought organic strawberries...which were so organic that a tiny, tiny snail had made its residence in the box. It's still in there in the fridge.
Looking south from West Cliff - to the right of the picture, you can see a little further down Monterey Bay, but the day wasn't clear enough to see all the way across the Bay, so I didn't bother trying to get a picture of that (that would have been further right beyond view of this photo). The Boardwalk would have been in view to the left.
Birds galore, and pelicans seemed to reign on this particular spot. Believe it or not, these cute patches of winter/spring plants grow wild - they're not planted in this arrangement on purpose.
MORE birds perching on rocks [click the pic for larger view]. Avoiding getting pooped on is always a concern along this stretch.
See the seals? They were having a fine old time sunbathing on their regular rock. They congregate here so much that it's nicknamed Seal Rock. They provided the background chorus to my sister's wedding solemnisation by the lighthouse nine years ago.
Duh.
Looks like the lighthouse has to be moved in even further pretty soon. This cliff edge has eroded really, really fast.
Seems that some swallows have made an apartment complex of the lighthouse.
We parked next to this really neat Harley. The rider later turned out to be some unexciting-looking middle-ager.
Sean sporting a cheeky grin.
Think we need some of these signs in Singapore.
East Cliff. The tide was so low that the shallow kelp beds were exposed. We saw surfers wading ankle-deep pretty far out.
Ah, Santa Cruz, the land of fruits, nuts and flakes, according to their locals.
Foggy view. Spot the surfers bobbing around.
Just thought this cactus-type plant looked neat.
And this particular cactus has its own, ahem, appeal.
Boats galore in the little harbour.
We bought organic strawberries...which were so organic that a tiny, tiny snail had made its residence in the box. It's still in there in the fridge.
Cliff to cliff
It's been a lovely two days here. Both days started chilly and foggy, but the clouds gave way to sun and cool breeze. I still don't get how surfers in this town are so die-hard that they'll paddle out even in chilly weather and low tide, just bobbing around and riding on any tiny bump of a wave. But I sure do appreciate their firm behinds when they pass by. Surfers have very good butts. Didn't I mention that before?
Walked along the beautiful West Cliff yesterday, and today at East Cliff which isn't as scenic but still nice for a tranquil walk. Both parts of the coastline are wearing quickly, though, and there's less of it each year when I visit. West Cliff's landmark Seal Rock was stuffed full with - what else - seals, clamouring and climbing over each other for space on that little rock.
[Will post pictures when I can.]
Am still somewhat depressed, but it's lifting by the day, and my mind is getting clearer, as I hoped it'd be. Taking the over-worried, despairing touch off certain trains of thought and giving them the moderate, clean regard they need. Feeling less troubled while in the crisp, unhurried air of this laid-back suburbia and the distant swish of the Pacific Ocean swash.
Yes, I'm almost certain I'm not in love, as I'd earlier feared I was. I'm sure I was in the first vestiges of it when he left, but, thankfully, not enough time and allowance had been given for it to move into the head-over-heels stage. I'm wondering, what if I'd followed Lina to St James that night after all. I'd have met him earlier, more than a whole month earlier, and then what? Would things have gone on the way they had, only earlier, and leave us both with greater pain on parting? Or would things never had happened? In this what-if, I think things would still have happened - perhaps differently, perhaps more painfully at the end, perhaps more ambivalent...or perhaps in the exact same way, given the point in time the particular revelation shook my thoughts and allowed me to open my heart.
That doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that I'm capable of love. Again. Give me a little more time here, and it will no longer be about him. I think I'm starting to let go. I want to.
My thoughts are here because I can't talk to you about them. These thoughts are not truly for you - they're for me and for those with whom I'd share these close thoughts.
The question of what I'm going to work on when I get back is next in line. Do I go on with what I've been doing, or do I take on a bigger new challenge? I.e. what my father offered me. I'm not keen at all on the new project(s), but it does offer me something new to do. However, there will be sacrifices if I take this/these on, and theatre work would certainly take a backseat. I don't want that. I'd have to work harder when I get back to keep the status quo going, or rather, to rev up what I've been doing. Work's too slow and I can't rely on my current clients anymore. Starting fresh will help, I hope. Having an uninterrupted period of time to work will also help. I need to start charging more money. Maybe start selling to foreign publications - but damned if I knew what to sell to them. I wonder how much Adbusters will pay for feminist rants on consumerist cannibalism in a test tube society. Maybe I can write porn - does Penthouse Letters pay?
I'd love to take time off to try to work on a personal creative project (or several), but I can't afford to do that just yet. My bank account was chronically low when I flew off - of course I was owed a huge amount of back-pay, but that just proves how unstable finances can be when one is a freelancer. (And for those out there who would tell me that this rich girl needn't worry, I'll stuff crumpled copies of my invoices up your arses for implying that I take money from my parents.) Perhaps I'll aim to save more money by the middle of next year, then take some time to put something together.
Will stick my neck out for more auditions to come, hopefully snag professional projects at last. This break has meant that I've had to turn away from every opportunity that crosses this window of time, but that's been a necessary sacrifice. Just hope there'll be openings for projects coming up within this year, but that seems rather unlikely. Still, one can hope.
Meanwhile, I'll carry on enjoying this breezy, mind-clearing sabbatical.
"Je ne veux pas travailler
Je ne veux pas déjeuner
Je veux seulement l'oublier"
~Sympathique~
And so it goes...till mid-August.
Walked along the beautiful West Cliff yesterday, and today at East Cliff which isn't as scenic but still nice for a tranquil walk. Both parts of the coastline are wearing quickly, though, and there's less of it each year when I visit. West Cliff's landmark Seal Rock was stuffed full with - what else - seals, clamouring and climbing over each other for space on that little rock.
[Will post pictures when I can.]
Am still somewhat depressed, but it's lifting by the day, and my mind is getting clearer, as I hoped it'd be. Taking the over-worried, despairing touch off certain trains of thought and giving them the moderate, clean regard they need. Feeling less troubled while in the crisp, unhurried air of this laid-back suburbia and the distant swish of the Pacific Ocean swash.
Yes, I'm almost certain I'm not in love, as I'd earlier feared I was. I'm sure I was in the first vestiges of it when he left, but, thankfully, not enough time and allowance had been given for it to move into the head-over-heels stage. I'm wondering, what if I'd followed Lina to St James that night after all. I'd have met him earlier, more than a whole month earlier, and then what? Would things have gone on the way they had, only earlier, and leave us both with greater pain on parting? Or would things never had happened? In this what-if, I think things would still have happened - perhaps differently, perhaps more painfully at the end, perhaps more ambivalent...or perhaps in the exact same way, given the point in time the particular revelation shook my thoughts and allowed me to open my heart.
That doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that I'm capable of love. Again. Give me a little more time here, and it will no longer be about him. I think I'm starting to let go. I want to.
My thoughts are here because I can't talk to you about them. These thoughts are not truly for you - they're for me and for those with whom I'd share these close thoughts.
The question of what I'm going to work on when I get back is next in line. Do I go on with what I've been doing, or do I take on a bigger new challenge? I.e. what my father offered me. I'm not keen at all on the new project(s), but it does offer me something new to do. However, there will be sacrifices if I take this/these on, and theatre work would certainly take a backseat. I don't want that. I'd have to work harder when I get back to keep the status quo going, or rather, to rev up what I've been doing. Work's too slow and I can't rely on my current clients anymore. Starting fresh will help, I hope. Having an uninterrupted period of time to work will also help. I need to start charging more money. Maybe start selling to foreign publications - but damned if I knew what to sell to them. I wonder how much Adbusters will pay for feminist rants on consumerist cannibalism in a test tube society. Maybe I can write porn - does Penthouse Letters pay?
I'd love to take time off to try to work on a personal creative project (or several), but I can't afford to do that just yet. My bank account was chronically low when I flew off - of course I was owed a huge amount of back-pay, but that just proves how unstable finances can be when one is a freelancer. (And for those out there who would tell me that this rich girl needn't worry, I'll stuff crumpled copies of my invoices up your arses for implying that I take money from my parents.) Perhaps I'll aim to save more money by the middle of next year, then take some time to put something together.
Will stick my neck out for more auditions to come, hopefully snag professional projects at last. This break has meant that I've had to turn away from every opportunity that crosses this window of time, but that's been a necessary sacrifice. Just hope there'll be openings for projects coming up within this year, but that seems rather unlikely. Still, one can hope.
Meanwhile, I'll carry on enjoying this breezy, mind-clearing sabbatical.
"Je ne veux pas travailler
Je ne veux pas déjeuner
Je veux seulement l'oublier"
~Sympathique~
And so it goes...till mid-August.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Oliver!
If you're reading this from wherever you are in Deutschland, drop me a line! Where are you??
Monday, June 18, 2007
The duck has landed
Touched down past 7pm (Pacific Time) yesterday (was still 16 June over here in Santa Cruz, CA) after a long, tiring flight - travelling with kids ain't a ball of fun, no matter how cute they are. Plus, though the service on SQ was great, the trigger-happy captain kept turning on the seatbelt sign "because of turbulence" - even though these were barely even bumps - and we had to keep taking Caitlyn out of the bassinet, thus disturbing her slumber goodness knows how many times and rendering both my sister and I completely sleepless. And since both of us were having our periods and lacking sleep, we were knackered and grouchy by the end. Immigration queue wasn't too long. Yay. HOWEVER, our baggage took bloody forever to emerge, all seven of them (only one of which was mine). After that, it took a long time to figure out how to stuff all that baggage plus the stroller into my sis's car. When we got home, the phone rang 2 minutes later. With no surprise, it was The Dowager, who sounded suitably unhappy that we hadn't picked up her earlier calls - all 14 of them - and had assumed we'd stopped to buy things before heading home. WTF.
Managed to watch two movies on the flight, though. "La Mome" (aka "La Vie En Rose") was an extremely depressing but inspiring bio of Edith Piaf, with an outstanding performance by Marion Cotillard as Piaf - she doesn't make us love nor pity Piaf by playing up her endearing or tragic sides, but she puts such brash truth into her role that you can't help but feel for the rawness of the character. The scene where Piaf had her first performance in a music hall almost moved me to tears - not because it was sad, but it reminded me of why I love the stage and where I want to be. "Closer" was a very, very ugly, tangled love story, but I liked it lots - found it well-performed and cleverly written as far as characters and character interaction were concerned.
I MISS EVERYONE!! Especially the Y&Wers. I hate that I had to leave before the run ended and am having serious withdrawal now. Am also missing everyone else that I'm close to in Singapore. And elsewhere (but I wish I didn't).
The weather here is wonderful. Just shy of perfect, given that it's slightly chilly, but it's still early in the summer. Loads of sunshine and cool wind.
I stepped out of the car last night when we got back from the airport and, while dragging the bags towards the front door, I looked up, and the sight that greeted me made me stop and smile before I even knew I was doing it. A familiar blanket of stars filled the sky with silver, and seeing them made me feel like I was being greeted by old friends.
Every bit of spare time, my mind is filled with so many thoughts. My mind just won't shut up, and I can't even blame it on PMS anymore now. Memories, mostly recent ones, keep coming back up. I'm confused about several things. I'm afraid that certain things that I had made assumptions about had gone further along than I'd thought. (E.g. the "rebound-ish" thing mentioned in an earlier post - I think it's something else, which I really dread if it truly is so.) Like a habit that needs to be kicked, I have to detox myself of them, hopefully during the time I'm spending here. Some things are no good for me, even if they started out good.
Managed to watch two movies on the flight, though. "La Mome" (aka "La Vie En Rose") was an extremely depressing but inspiring bio of Edith Piaf, with an outstanding performance by Marion Cotillard as Piaf - she doesn't make us love nor pity Piaf by playing up her endearing or tragic sides, but she puts such brash truth into her role that you can't help but feel for the rawness of the character. The scene where Piaf had her first performance in a music hall almost moved me to tears - not because it was sad, but it reminded me of why I love the stage and where I want to be. "Closer" was a very, very ugly, tangled love story, but I liked it lots - found it well-performed and cleverly written as far as characters and character interaction were concerned.
I MISS EVERYONE!! Especially the Y&Wers. I hate that I had to leave before the run ended and am having serious withdrawal now. Am also missing everyone else that I'm close to in Singapore. And elsewhere (but I wish I didn't).
The weather here is wonderful. Just shy of perfect, given that it's slightly chilly, but it's still early in the summer. Loads of sunshine and cool wind.
I stepped out of the car last night when we got back from the airport and, while dragging the bags towards the front door, I looked up, and the sight that greeted me made me stop and smile before I even knew I was doing it. A familiar blanket of stars filled the sky with silver, and seeing them made me feel like I was being greeted by old friends.
Every bit of spare time, my mind is filled with so many thoughts. My mind just won't shut up, and I can't even blame it on PMS anymore now. Memories, mostly recent ones, keep coming back up. I'm confused about several things. I'm afraid that certain things that I had made assumptions about had gone further along than I'd thought. (E.g. the "rebound-ish" thing mentioned in an earlier post - I think it's something else, which I really dread if it truly is so.) Like a habit that needs to be kicked, I have to detox myself of them, hopefully during the time I'm spending here. Some things are no good for me, even if they started out good.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Hmm, think I'm starting to see my problem. I wear my heart on my sleeve. That trait (?) is mismatched with some others around me. That need to speak my mind, to feel less alone, to feel understood, to have (most of) my thoughts known.
But that's just me. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but sure beats repression and isolation.
I can stand self-preservation-motivated zip-lip from people I care about only so long. That's not wrong, is it? Wanting similar or somewhat similar from people I care about and whom I hope care about me?
But that's just me. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but sure beats repression and isolation.
I can stand self-preservation-motivated zip-lip from people I care about only so long. That's not wrong, is it? Wanting similar or somewhat similar from people I care about and whom I hope care about me?
Of shifting sentiments and the memory of scents
I'm having trouble getting to sleep, so might as well put my thoughts down here. Brain won't shut up again.
Thinking about leaving my feelings behind. Hard. Do-able? Maybe waiting for it to taper off isn't the right thing to do. Dealing with feelings always has to be proactive. What developed between us was not a rebound, but perhaps what makes me linger over it is rebound-ish in nature - perhaps loneliness is making me continue with it longer than it should be. Let's see what the next few weeks bring. A complete shift in mindset and circumstance should help. I want to gather those pieces of myself back.
Was also thinking about remembering smell. I was thinking about how Kev smells. Was thinking about how others before have smelt. And I realise I mostly can't recall offhand. I remember Kev's scent well because he was so recent, and I still care for him (I think that does make a difference). There's a vague recollection of the round, musky, slightly oily smell of Kelvin's cheek, but it has faded considerably (I can't remember what his hair smells like). But for most of the others who have come before, I find I can't quite remember, not as conjure-able memories anyway. There are shadows of memories, approximations of the shades of their smells, but not quite the striking way your nose remembers and fills your olfactory senses almost as if the smell was physically there again.
Here's the strange thing about smell. Our brain centre for smell resides very close to that for memory, but not that for articulation. It is also the most primal of our senses. Which means that we're challenged to find adjectives for smells. I find it hard to use my usual associations to actively recall what the men I cared about smelt like.
But every now and then, I'll pass by some place, and I'd smell something or someone, and WHAM! I'm suddenly hit by a strong sense of remembering, simply because that passing scent is so strongly reminiscent of someone I knew intimately. And for a moment, I'd look around, seeing if it really was that person lingering somewhere before the smell morphs as I move around it and I realise it is something/someone else. This happens especially so for the scent of WJ, my first and most powerful love.
But no one and nothing I've known has ever smelt like Kev. So unremarkable a scent, yet owned by none but him.
Thinking about leaving my feelings behind. Hard. Do-able? Maybe waiting for it to taper off isn't the right thing to do. Dealing with feelings always has to be proactive. What developed between us was not a rebound, but perhaps what makes me linger over it is rebound-ish in nature - perhaps loneliness is making me continue with it longer than it should be. Let's see what the next few weeks bring. A complete shift in mindset and circumstance should help. I want to gather those pieces of myself back.
Was also thinking about remembering smell. I was thinking about how Kev smells. Was thinking about how others before have smelt. And I realise I mostly can't recall offhand. I remember Kev's scent well because he was so recent, and I still care for him (I think that does make a difference). There's a vague recollection of the round, musky, slightly oily smell of Kelvin's cheek, but it has faded considerably (I can't remember what his hair smells like). But for most of the others who have come before, I find I can't quite remember, not as conjure-able memories anyway. There are shadows of memories, approximations of the shades of their smells, but not quite the striking way your nose remembers and fills your olfactory senses almost as if the smell was physically there again.
Here's the strange thing about smell. Our brain centre for smell resides very close to that for memory, but not that for articulation. It is also the most primal of our senses. Which means that we're challenged to find adjectives for smells. I find it hard to use my usual associations to actively recall what the men I cared about smelt like.
But every now and then, I'll pass by some place, and I'd smell something or someone, and WHAM! I'm suddenly hit by a strong sense of remembering, simply because that passing scent is so strongly reminiscent of someone I knew intimately. And for a moment, I'd look around, seeing if it really was that person lingering somewhere before the smell morphs as I move around it and I realise it is something/someone else. This happens especially so for the scent of WJ, my first and most powerful love.
But no one and nothing I've known has ever smelt like Kev. So unremarkable a scent, yet owned by none but him.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Oh, fiddlesticks
The long-awaited break is FINALLY almost here...and I'm suddenly really, really sad to go??!!
Maybe it's my severe, severe PMS mood low, maybe it's from being too tired, maybe it's from time concerns and family stresses. I don't know, but mostly I think these just are just multiplying factors.
It's my last NDR show with them tomorrow. I won't be there when the show closes for everyone else. I won't be there for the cast party. I won't be there...well...with them. This was our first show together and we've OD-ed on each other for two weeks, in addition to the whole year we've spent together. OD-ed so badly that just two days apart when we had no shows caused withdrawal among us!
I'm not even gone yet and I miss them to dickens already. I love you guys so much.
But there's something else that the stage does to you other than uber-bonding. Well, to me anyway. Being on the stage, we're a part of something bigger than ourselves and create something inconceivably huge in comparison to us as single persons. When I leave a dark theatre after a last show, I always go back to my everyday life feeling like everything else is so small. Everything I had planned just for myself seems so tiny, so small, compared to what transpired every second spent on the stage. Perhaps it's also partly the after effects of the adrenalin of preparing and performing for a show. But the feeling of emptiness and futility is real, and almost every actor will experience it at some point.
I'm going to leave the theatre and my dear friends tomorrow night feeling so small.
And then there's Kev. Not his fault, but he does compound the aching I'm feeling now, just by being thousands of miles away. Now that he knows where his posting will be, we're going to be even further apart, practically speaking. While I'd already expected that rather matter-of-factly before, I hadn't expected the tapering-off to be so damned slow. Practical Daf: it has served its function - enough of missing him already!
Just got off the phone with him. Found the exact same experience I had during my long-distance days with Kelvin - I absolutely HATE the moment when the phone goes completely silent when we hang up after saying bye. One moment the person is there, their voice in your ear, both of you connected in so many more ways than one. And then that sudden, brutal disconnection, when you're abruptly utterly alone with a deafening silence. So just now, I found myself looking at a dead phone, still warm in my hand. He's suddenly just not there.
Maybe what I need is a good rebound with a blonde surfer dude with a nice butt and big dick. Lots of those in Santa Cruz. Well, I can only attest to the nice butts.
Or I can just count on the healing power of being in a place of beauty, enjoying relatively tranquil time with my sis (after the kids have quit fussing for the day). Sitting in the front yard with binoculars and star map on chilly but clear nights, the multitude of stars my stellar company. Watching Desperate Housewives on DVD with sis, chowing large bowls of popcorn and dessert wine. Shopping. Long talks, long walks by the sea. Outdoor summer concerts on the beach by the boardwalk.
Being away from everything. Just the way I'd wanted it to be. The way I've been waiting for since more than a year ago.
But by golly, I'm missing EVERYONE right now!!
Maybe it's my severe, severe PMS mood low, maybe it's from being too tired, maybe it's from time concerns and family stresses. I don't know, but mostly I think these just are just multiplying factors.
It's my last NDR show with them tomorrow. I won't be there when the show closes for everyone else. I won't be there for the cast party. I won't be there...well...with them. This was our first show together and we've OD-ed on each other for two weeks, in addition to the whole year we've spent together. OD-ed so badly that just two days apart when we had no shows caused withdrawal among us!
I'm not even gone yet and I miss them to dickens already. I love you guys so much.
But there's something else that the stage does to you other than uber-bonding. Well, to me anyway. Being on the stage, we're a part of something bigger than ourselves and create something inconceivably huge in comparison to us as single persons. When I leave a dark theatre after a last show, I always go back to my everyday life feeling like everything else is so small. Everything I had planned just for myself seems so tiny, so small, compared to what transpired every second spent on the stage. Perhaps it's also partly the after effects of the adrenalin of preparing and performing for a show. But the feeling of emptiness and futility is real, and almost every actor will experience it at some point.
I'm going to leave the theatre and my dear friends tomorrow night feeling so small.
And then there's Kev. Not his fault, but he does compound the aching I'm feeling now, just by being thousands of miles away. Now that he knows where his posting will be, we're going to be even further apart, practically speaking. While I'd already expected that rather matter-of-factly before, I hadn't expected the tapering-off to be so damned slow. Practical Daf: it has served its function - enough of missing him already!
Just got off the phone with him. Found the exact same experience I had during my long-distance days with Kelvin - I absolutely HATE the moment when the phone goes completely silent when we hang up after saying bye. One moment the person is there, their voice in your ear, both of you connected in so many more ways than one. And then that sudden, brutal disconnection, when you're abruptly utterly alone with a deafening silence. So just now, I found myself looking at a dead phone, still warm in my hand. He's suddenly just not there.
Maybe what I need is a good rebound with a blonde surfer dude with a nice butt and big dick. Lots of those in Santa Cruz. Well, I can only attest to the nice butts.
Or I can just count on the healing power of being in a place of beauty, enjoying relatively tranquil time with my sis (after the kids have quit fussing for the day). Sitting in the front yard with binoculars and star map on chilly but clear nights, the multitude of stars my stellar company. Watching Desperate Housewives on DVD with sis, chowing large bowls of popcorn and dessert wine. Shopping. Long talks, long walks by the sea. Outdoor summer concerts on the beach by the boardwalk.
Being away from everything. Just the way I'd wanted it to be. The way I've been waiting for since more than a year ago.
But by golly, I'm missing EVERYONE right now!!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Just looking for
"...I'm just...I'm just driving, on and on - to ease my mind. Just looking for someone to talk to."
~Scene 7, North Diversion Road~
Feeling a mess tonight. Supremely PMS-al and depressed as hell. Ridiculously sentimental, freakily emotional, mind won't settle down, a thousand thoughts flying through my head.
Perhaps inevitably, in the course of pondering the theme of NDR (duh), tonight I suddenly thought about Kelvin and the immense hurt he caused me. I'm angry and hurt all over again. I'm sickened all over again at the thought of the sight or sound of him. Even thoughts of our good times don't ease the distaste. The rip in the fabric of my life stings again. It is mending (and underwent slightly accelerated mending rather recently) but as of this moment, it stings.
The night is too quiet. The Blower's fucking Daughter isn't making me feel any better.
I want to let it all out, transitory though these feelings are. But there's no one to talk about these things to. I want to write and write and write, but I can't find anything to write about. I want to express all this, but what I currently have on the stage doesn't allow much of it through. I have no one to sing to.
What's left?
I need to be held RIGHT NOW. Tight. I want to sob in somebody's arms. I want to fuck someone and then spend the rest of the night lying by his side telling him little secrets and hearing him tell me little secrets. I want to be looking at someone lying beside me, looking at me, and though he does not say anything, I can see half-guessed thoughts in his eyes. I want someone to softly stroke my forehead and my hair until I fall asleep.
I need to feel wanted.
(Yes, you will read entries like these on an average of once every four to five weeks.)
Perhaps inevitably, in the course of pondering the theme of NDR (duh), tonight I suddenly thought about Kelvin and the immense hurt he caused me. I'm angry and hurt all over again. I'm sickened all over again at the thought of the sight or sound of him. Even thoughts of our good times don't ease the distaste. The rip in the fabric of my life stings again. It is mending (and underwent slightly accelerated mending rather recently) but as of this moment, it stings.
The night is too quiet. The Blower's fucking Daughter isn't making me feel any better.
I want to let it all out, transitory though these feelings are. But there's no one to talk about these things to. I want to write and write and write, but I can't find anything to write about. I want to express all this, but what I currently have on the stage doesn't allow much of it through. I have no one to sing to.
What's left?
I need to be held RIGHT NOW. Tight. I want to sob in somebody's arms. I want to fuck someone and then spend the rest of the night lying by his side telling him little secrets and hearing him tell me little secrets. I want to be looking at someone lying beside me, looking at me, and though he does not say anything, I can see half-guessed thoughts in his eyes. I want someone to softly stroke my forehead and my hair until I fall asleep.
I need to feel wanted.
(Yes, you will read entries like these on an average of once every four to five weeks.)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Kenduri
Bump-in last Monday was a busy-busy day with the inevitable little mishaps and annoyances, but we made it to opening night without a single homicide, so we did pretty well I think.
On Wednesday, between our last dress rehearsal and opening show in the evening, we had the traditional W!LD Rice kenduri, my first. It was a strangely spiritual experience, but not entirely surprising, given the intensely shared energy of the group of us. The very act of taking that energy, multiplying it and filling the performance space with it made us feel larger than the sum of us (don't know if anyone else got that, but I sure did).
And, us being Singaporeans, every tradition is topped off with food! Starting with the marvelicious fudge cake that Jon (Lim) very enthusiastically disemboweled.
We've apparently become a lot more touchy feely over the course of being stuck with each other for a year. I don't know what that year has done to Shouchen, though.
Interestingly, our first group shot ever! I was already in my beehive.
"Sail away, sail away, sail away..."
Spot the difference.
Like I said, a year with us has done things to Shouchen. Candice was already twisted to begin with, anyway.
Tickets are available at the box office, via phone (6332 6919) or www.theartshouse.com.sg. (Psst! It's easier booking by phone). Alternatively, you can book your tickets through me or any of the Young & W!LDers - we can get them for you since we're there every day anyway.
See you there!
On Wednesday, between our last dress rehearsal and opening show in the evening, we had the traditional W!LD Rice kenduri, my first. It was a strangely spiritual experience, but not entirely surprising, given the intensely shared energy of the group of us. The very act of taking that energy, multiplying it and filling the performance space with it made us feel larger than the sum of us (don't know if anyone else got that, but I sure did).
And, us being Singaporeans, every tradition is topped off with food! Starting with the marvelicious fudge cake that Jon (Lim) very enthusiastically disemboweled.
We've apparently become a lot more touchy feely over the course of being stuck with each other for a year. I don't know what that year has done to Shouchen, though.
Interestingly, our first group shot ever! I was already in my beehive.
"Sail away, sail away, sail away..."
Spot the difference.
Like I said, a year with us has done things to Shouchen. Candice was already twisted to begin with, anyway.
Final plug for On North Diversion Road
It's not too late to get your tickets to On North Diversion Road by us at Young & W!LD, a division of W!LD Rice. It runs from now till Sunday (17 June) at The Arts House (though I won't be doing Saturday and Sunday as I'll already be away - Judy's taking over my role on those days).
Tickets are available at the box office, via phone (6332 6919) or www.theartshouse.com.sg. (Psst! It's easier booking by phone). Alternatively, you can book your tickets through me or any of the Young & W!LDers - we can get them for you since we're there every day anyway.
See you there!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Airborne sacrilege
Was reading through a few entries I'd made in a little notepad I carry with me and occasionally pen thoughts in. This strange entry leaped out. It doesn't make much sense and reads like I was high on something. Lack of sleep, perhaps, since I'm almost never able to sleep on flights. Hope religious types don't bash me when they read this. FYI, "sacrilicious" and the waffle are a reference to The Simpsons.
9.25am, 31 Oct 2005, Monday
On SQ16, Singapore to San Francisco
Sitting in an aircraft I dream of angels and poems and angels in poems. Which is odd, as I don't believe in angels. I dream of weaving beauty with words.
I dream of saints, and it is a nightmare. Stigmata, obsession, denial and stupidity - all the saintly qualities. I picture the faithful dead, each in their own crown of thorns, blood trickling from wounds where they have attached their wings. They wear their robes of piety, ceaseless prayer, insanity, delusion, suffering and eternal hypnosis, standing in a host, naked and cold, unblinkingly gazing up in wonder at a laughing divinity.
Sacrilegious, sacrilicious. God or or waffle? Mask or mime? Thunder or lightning?
I don't know how to go on.
9.25am, 31 Oct 2005, Monday
On SQ16, Singapore to San Francisco
Sitting in an aircraft I dream of angels and poems and angels in poems. Which is odd, as I don't believe in angels. I dream of weaving beauty with words.
I dream of saints, and it is a nightmare. Stigmata, obsession, denial and stupidity - all the saintly qualities. I picture the faithful dead, each in their own crown of thorns, blood trickling from wounds where they have attached their wings. They wear their robes of piety, ceaseless prayer, insanity, delusion, suffering and eternal hypnosis, standing in a host, naked and cold, unblinkingly gazing up in wonder at a laughing divinity.
Sacrilegious, sacrilicious. God or or waffle? Mask or mime? Thunder or lightning?
I don't know how to go on.
Storage
An actor recently said that she would feel this or that emotion, and find herself thinking "I could use that emotion in a future role" [not exact quote].
I recognised that thought right away, but, interestingly, not as an actor, but as a writer. Actors collect emotions and experiences to fill their bank of tools, ready to whip them out when they next need it for their characters.
I collect too, but in a different way. I see something or experience something, and I immediately think about how, where and when I would write about it or where I could use something like that in a piece of writing. I think about what words I would use, the length of the sentences I'd use, the effect I'd be looking to create. And then I'd catch myself doing it - storing things away so I can use them to later to smith words.
It's time to start consciously doing it as an actor as well.
I recognised that thought right away, but, interestingly, not as an actor, but as a writer. Actors collect emotions and experiences to fill their bank of tools, ready to whip them out when they next need it for their characters.
I collect too, but in a different way. I see something or experience something, and I immediately think about how, where and when I would write about it or where I could use something like that in a piece of writing. I think about what words I would use, the length of the sentences I'd use, the effect I'd be looking to create. And then I'd catch myself doing it - storing things away so I can use them to later to smith words.
It's time to start consciously doing it as an actor as well.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Far away
Today for the first time he started to feel far away. I was looking through some of the SMSes we exchanged that I'd saved, and suddenly they felt like distant words from a time past. Recently past, but still past. I thought about him and what he might be doing now. And he felt far away.
Perhaps it's because we haven't had a chance to speak this week because of schedules (and time zones). Maybe it's because I've become so busy and I know he's also busy himself. Maybe it's because of the new surroundings and preoccupations I currently have, and knowing he does too.
Distance sucks. In our case, it's probably a good thing, all things considered, but it still sucks all the same.
The missing has started to diminish. That's just me I guess - out of sight, out of mind, what-ifs aside.
More than one person has said something similar - this thing is like a fairytale or a Hollywood movie, one of those light-hearted chick flicks with a plot-with-an-expected-twist.
Why wouldn't it be? What-ifs and lingering feelings are the stuff that choke tales and movies and trash romance novels. Surely some are based on reality. But I believe most are based on how people want them to turn out. Neil Gaiman wrote in "24 Hours" (Sandman #6) that all stories have happy endings only if you know when to end them, because if you stick around long enough, they all end in disappointment and death. And that's a fact of life.
I'm a practical person. I've learned to follow my gut instinct, which isn't failsafe but very mostly right. It doesn't always tell me what I want to hear, but to ignore it is to invite peril. So for all its whisperings to me, I'm almost glad things turned out the way they have - with a bittersweet taste...but more sweet than bitter.
I've been asked why this didn't become a long-distance relationship. My answer is always the same - I just can't do that. Not again. It's not what either of us want, anyway. I can't wait for someone, not for that long, especially with all the other factors considered.
Kev asked me before what I look for in an ideal man, and I gave him the same answer I give everyone, which is that I don't have one. When I fall, I fall. I don't ask why. But I've come to realise that I do want some things in a man. (Whether the dude I end dating has them or not is another matter.)
I want someone who knows what he wants. Someone who knows what commitment is and knows how to keep it. Someone HONEST. Someone not afraid to deal with reality and everyday life. Someone who has grown enough and knows his place in his own life and in others'. Someone who knows who he is. Someone who wants to know who I am.
In other words, someone who has matured sufficiently. And that's hard to find. I've never met one.
We shared something special, all the more treasured by how involuntary it was, in the way that it evolved in a direction neither of us wanted to go but were glad to go in the end. We'll always have that, at least.
What will it be like when we meet again? It's so far away, too wistfully far away. So much would have changed. How much and what? Who will we meet in between? Will we still see each other the same way? A Hollywood ending would dictate a joyful and intense reunion. A realist reunion would find us both different people, grown in different ways, perspectives shifted through vastly differing journeys, perhaps with different people too.
Maybe he'd have grown in the way I hope he will and I'd see a larger version of the person inside him that I was starting to fall for, one that has nothing to do with his looks, nor his intelligence, nor his language savvy, nor his social flitting - the one that at times I almost reached on quiet nights in warmth, when our inner sentries had fallen asleep, the one that I felt more than I saw or heard, one that touched my heart more than my mind.
A sorta fairytale indeed.
"I don't, didn't think we'd end up like this...
...I can't put this day back
A sorta fairytale with you"
~A Sorta Fairytale, Tori Amos~
Perhaps it's because we haven't had a chance to speak this week because of schedules (and time zones). Maybe it's because I've become so busy and I know he's also busy himself. Maybe it's because of the new surroundings and preoccupations I currently have, and knowing he does too.
Distance sucks. In our case, it's probably a good thing, all things considered, but it still sucks all the same.
The missing has started to diminish. That's just me I guess - out of sight, out of mind, what-ifs aside.
More than one person has said something similar - this thing is like a fairytale or a Hollywood movie, one of those light-hearted chick flicks with a plot-with-an-expected-twist.
Why wouldn't it be? What-ifs and lingering feelings are the stuff that choke tales and movies and trash romance novels. Surely some are based on reality. But I believe most are based on how people want them to turn out. Neil Gaiman wrote in "24 Hours" (Sandman #6) that all stories have happy endings only if you know when to end them, because if you stick around long enough, they all end in disappointment and death. And that's a fact of life.
I'm a practical person. I've learned to follow my gut instinct, which isn't failsafe but very mostly right. It doesn't always tell me what I want to hear, but to ignore it is to invite peril. So for all its whisperings to me, I'm almost glad things turned out the way they have - with a bittersweet taste...but more sweet than bitter.
I've been asked why this didn't become a long-distance relationship. My answer is always the same - I just can't do that. Not again. It's not what either of us want, anyway. I can't wait for someone, not for that long, especially with all the other factors considered.
Kev asked me before what I look for in an ideal man, and I gave him the same answer I give everyone, which is that I don't have one. When I fall, I fall. I don't ask why. But I've come to realise that I do want some things in a man. (Whether the dude I end dating has them or not is another matter.)
I want someone who knows what he wants. Someone who knows what commitment is and knows how to keep it. Someone HONEST. Someone not afraid to deal with reality and everyday life. Someone who has grown enough and knows his place in his own life and in others'. Someone who knows who he is. Someone who wants to know who I am.
In other words, someone who has matured sufficiently. And that's hard to find. I've never met one.
We shared something special, all the more treasured by how involuntary it was, in the way that it evolved in a direction neither of us wanted to go but were glad to go in the end. We'll always have that, at least.
What will it be like when we meet again? It's so far away, too wistfully far away. So much would have changed. How much and what? Who will we meet in between? Will we still see each other the same way? A Hollywood ending would dictate a joyful and intense reunion. A realist reunion would find us both different people, grown in different ways, perspectives shifted through vastly differing journeys, perhaps with different people too.
Maybe he'd have grown in the way I hope he will and I'd see a larger version of the person inside him that I was starting to fall for, one that has nothing to do with his looks, nor his intelligence, nor his language savvy, nor his social flitting - the one that at times I almost reached on quiet nights in warmth, when our inner sentries had fallen asleep, the one that I felt more than I saw or heard, one that touched my heart more than my mind.
A sorta fairytale indeed.
"I don't, didn't think we'd end up like this...
...I can't put this day back
A sorta fairytale with you"
~A Sorta Fairytale, Tori Amos~
Thursday, June 07, 2007
On North Diversion Road opens!
The long-awaited Young & W!LD show opened today to extremely encouraging reviews. The audience tonight was responsive and engaged, and they seemed to like it lots. This looks like a good start. The great thing about an intimate space is that you're better able to sense the audience, and we got back as good as we gave I think. The cast gave a good show tonight I think. Hope this keeps up or keeps climbing for the next <1 week. Never mind that hairspray is making a bit more of my hair fall out or that the stage makeup is making my skin mutiny. We have a show! This is exciting, and a great feeling after a year of working together with these wonderful people.
Will post the photos from tech/dress rehearsal day another time when I'm more conscious.
Will post the photos from tech/dress rehearsal day another time when I'm more conscious.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Today today (already tomorrow)
Today I thought of you and smiled.
But only once.
I was too tired to think of much else till I was walking alone along the street with my thoughts. Even then, I was just enjoying the feel of being by myself, moving through the night air that felt like satin sheets.
The night is a woman, and she soothes me like no man can.
I was too tired to even turn my thoughts much to a quarter of the world away to the west. Today was not quite hectic, but was busy enough (and at times entertaining enough). Has the tapering off began? Or maybe I'm just too exhausted (and obsessed with food)?
Strangely, I'm not physically tired. However, what happens when I'm tired is that my mind starts to get wonky. It starts working overtime, but the multitude of thoughts that flit in and out are unorganised and often unstructured, and my attention and ability to focus get a bit koyak. A thought usually doesn't stay a thought and it flutters about all over the shop. Blogging twice today was the closest I got to putting together any coherent chain of thought.
Interestingly, it seems that my practical and rational mind is back, pushing back the emotional whatevers (whatevers?? this is not good - vocabulary taking a hike). Just focussing on the here and now. Immersing in the new surroundings and situation. Talking extremely dirty with the people I'll be stuck with for the next two weeks. They make me laugh, especially when we're all collectively sleep deprived and awake too early. But back to my point - the emotional plane seems to be sinking back again, this time quietly and understated-ly. Which is nice, for a change. Fizzling is always nicer than a bang. But I don't know if fizzle is really here.
Or perhaps it's tired numbness. And thinking about food again. Chicken wings in the fridge. Next to durian. Maybe it's numbness.
See what I mean? Even when I'm incapable of coherent thought, my hyper-skitterish brain starts to overanalyse (quite futilely). (I've used too many brackets in this blog post.) Suspect nothing much I've written makes much sense.
I'd better go to bed at this point or this'll get even more pointless and "HUH??". Need sleep. No idea why I'm still up. My right eye is twice as dry as my left eye.
But only once.
I was too tired to think of much else till I was walking alone along the street with my thoughts. Even then, I was just enjoying the feel of being by myself, moving through the night air that felt like satin sheets.
The night is a woman, and she soothes me like no man can.
I was too tired to even turn my thoughts much to a quarter of the world away to the west. Today was not quite hectic, but was busy enough (and at times entertaining enough). Has the tapering off began? Or maybe I'm just too exhausted (and obsessed with food)?
Strangely, I'm not physically tired. However, what happens when I'm tired is that my mind starts to get wonky. It starts working overtime, but the multitude of thoughts that flit in and out are unorganised and often unstructured, and my attention and ability to focus get a bit koyak. A thought usually doesn't stay a thought and it flutters about all over the shop. Blogging twice today was the closest I got to putting together any coherent chain of thought.
Interestingly, it seems that my practical and rational mind is back, pushing back the emotional whatevers (whatevers?? this is not good - vocabulary taking a hike). Just focussing on the here and now. Immersing in the new surroundings and situation. Talking extremely dirty with the people I'll be stuck with for the next two weeks. They make me laugh, especially when we're all collectively sleep deprived and awake too early. But back to my point - the emotional plane seems to be sinking back again, this time quietly and understated-ly. Which is nice, for a change. Fizzling is always nicer than a bang. But I don't know if fizzle is really here.
Or perhaps it's tired numbness. And thinking about food again. Chicken wings in the fridge. Next to durian. Maybe it's numbness.
See what I mean? Even when I'm incapable of coherent thought, my hyper-skitterish brain starts to overanalyse (quite futilely). (I've used too many brackets in this blog post.) Suspect nothing much I've written makes much sense.
I'd better go to bed at this point or this'll get even more pointless and "HUH??". Need sleep. No idea why I'm still up. My right eye is twice as dry as my left eye.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Madness in the moist city
Yesterday marked the start of production madness, with a full day of rehearsals plus packing the set + props for the bump-in. Foolishly opting for supper at the midnight hour after the packing, I got home last night at almost 2am...and proceeded to do more work. Since bump-in was scheduled for 8am this morning, I got a grand total of 1.5 hours of sleep, at least a third of which was spent tossing about with too many thoughts swimming in my head. I'm surprised to find I've been very lucid and even cheery today (so far). None of the sleep-deprived-food-deprived crankiness. Then again, you can tell I'm truly tired when I don't recognise people or objects when they're right in front of me. I'm so tired and icky now. And still have to run errands and settle work stuff today.
These few days mark full-day rehearsals + prep in the theatre before we open on Wednesday. From there, it'll be shows almost all the way till I fly off on the 16th. Then time for my big, long-awaited break. I can't wait.
Last night when I was walking towards my place, I looked up at the night sky and the first thing I saw was Jupiter, bright, white and unwavering, just an hour or two before it would have been directly overhead. Immediately, I thought that it was nice that, if one looked up, Jupiter could be seen from Switzerland too, if somewhat lower in the sky. And then I gave myself a mental slap for that utterly corny thought. How American Tail kitsch.
I'm swimming through my day with 1.5 hours of sleep. The night before that was 3 hours. Collectively, I wonder if I even managed to clock a total of 30 hours of sleep last week. Probably not.
Which is why I rejected the notion of walking home from The Arts House earlier for the break between bump-in and tech rehearsals. I was walking to the bus stop by the river. When I felt the cool, moist post-rain wind on my face and the saw the approaching view of the water and Clarke Quay, I was so tempted to just walk home via the river promenade. Then I thought about the time it would take (probably half an hour at my languid, sleep-deprived pace) and that I wouldn't be feeling quite so cool by the time I reached home, and decided to abandon the idea. But it would have been nice on a more ideal day.
Backstage, Ghaz gave us a preview of his future sex-change aspirations, courtesy of Candice's hairpiece.
These few days mark full-day rehearsals + prep in the theatre before we open on Wednesday. From there, it'll be shows almost all the way till I fly off on the 16th. Then time for my big, long-awaited break. I can't wait.
Last night when I was walking towards my place, I looked up at the night sky and the first thing I saw was Jupiter, bright, white and unwavering, just an hour or two before it would have been directly overhead. Immediately, I thought that it was nice that, if one looked up, Jupiter could be seen from Switzerland too, if somewhat lower in the sky. And then I gave myself a mental slap for that utterly corny thought. How American Tail kitsch.
I'm swimming through my day with 1.5 hours of sleep. The night before that was 3 hours. Collectively, I wonder if I even managed to clock a total of 30 hours of sleep last week. Probably not.
Which is why I rejected the notion of walking home from The Arts House earlier for the break between bump-in and tech rehearsals. I was walking to the bus stop by the river. When I felt the cool, moist post-rain wind on my face and the saw the approaching view of the water and Clarke Quay, I was so tempted to just walk home via the river promenade. Then I thought about the time it would take (probably half an hour at my languid, sleep-deprived pace) and that I wouldn't be feeling quite so cool by the time I reached home, and decided to abandon the idea. But it would have been nice on a more ideal day.
Backstage, Ghaz gave us a preview of his future sex-change aspirations, courtesy of Candice's hairpiece.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Random motor snapshots
Stopped behind this truck at a red light one day. Look at the name - how often do you see so many vowels in a row?
Parked behind this car the other night and the decal caught my eye. Obviously, this ad is for a website geared towards males. Straight males. Very straight males.
Parked behind this car the other night and the decal caught my eye. Obviously, this ad is for a website geared towards males. Straight males. Very straight males.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Friday night quiet
It's Friday night and it's a quiet night at home.
Almost quiet. I can hear Caitlyn refusing to go to sleep next door, more content to smile at whoever's leaning over her crib than to close her beautiful hazel-grey eyes and snooze.
Few people are online. OK, actually a lot are, but not many are particularly chatty tonight, except for my daily MSN fix Gerald. Not that I want any power chatting tonight, not with STILL more work to get done that I've hopelessly procrastinated. But I've also come to realise it's now autopilot that the first thing I do when I open my MSN window is to look for one particular name even if I know for sure it won't be online.
Can't afford to put off work any longer though, have to try to get everything done by tomorrow or I'll really suffer if I hope to spend any time at all with the family. From Sunday, there'll be full-day rehearsals and bump-in before we open the show on Wednesday. And for added fun, just received an email from a client that requires a complete re-draft of an already-done project. Sigh.
Went for a very quick spot of lunch and shopping with sis today. Is always fun shopping with sis. Retail therapy rocks. Sushi Tei sucks.
Am just rambling on without any particular purpose right now.
Got a surprise call last night. I'd actually previously been wondering if he'd call me from where he was but didn't think he would, all things considered. Was suppering with my sis and the w!ld ones when got a call from a "new number". Was already half excited before I picked up. When I heard his voice and went "HI!!", half the table turned and grinned at me when they heard my tone, already knowing who it was (there's no keeping secrets from this bunch).
It was one of those times that I wished I'd expressed myself better. Distracting surroundings tend to water down what I really want to say and how I say it. I don't know if he could hear the delight in my voice or if I'd been too conscious of speaking in public (and with at least 4 or 5 people still grinning at me) to show any of it. Didn't help that it was noisy and I couldn't hear him very well. But the sound of his voice was unmistakable and strangely soothing.
I guess I wanted to say that that one phonecall made my day. Really made my day.
And now, perhaps I should stop blogging and finish at least one @#$%& article.
[Randomly useless fact: in complete boredom, was browsing his blog today and decided to check out when his very first post on his current journal was. Turns out to be just one day after I made my very first blog entry here on Blogger.]
Almost quiet. I can hear Caitlyn refusing to go to sleep next door, more content to smile at whoever's leaning over her crib than to close her beautiful hazel-grey eyes and snooze.
Few people are online. OK, actually a lot are, but not many are particularly chatty tonight, except for my daily MSN fix Gerald. Not that I want any power chatting tonight, not with STILL more work to get done that I've hopelessly procrastinated. But I've also come to realise it's now autopilot that the first thing I do when I open my MSN window is to look for one particular name even if I know for sure it won't be online.
Can't afford to put off work any longer though, have to try to get everything done by tomorrow or I'll really suffer if I hope to spend any time at all with the family. From Sunday, there'll be full-day rehearsals and bump-in before we open the show on Wednesday. And for added fun, just received an email from a client that requires a complete re-draft of an already-done project. Sigh.
Went for a very quick spot of lunch and shopping with sis today. Is always fun shopping with sis. Retail therapy rocks. Sushi Tei sucks.
Am just rambling on without any particular purpose right now.
Got a surprise call last night. I'd actually previously been wondering if he'd call me from where he was but didn't think he would, all things considered. Was suppering with my sis and the w!ld ones when got a call from a "new number". Was already half excited before I picked up. When I heard his voice and went "HI!!", half the table turned and grinned at me when they heard my tone, already knowing who it was (there's no keeping secrets from this bunch).
It was one of those times that I wished I'd expressed myself better. Distracting surroundings tend to water down what I really want to say and how I say it. I don't know if he could hear the delight in my voice or if I'd been too conscious of speaking in public (and with at least 4 or 5 people still grinning at me) to show any of it. Didn't help that it was noisy and I couldn't hear him very well. But the sound of his voice was unmistakable and strangely soothing.
I guess I wanted to say that that one phonecall made my day. Really made my day.
And now, perhaps I should stop blogging and finish at least one @#$%& article.
[Randomly useless fact: in complete boredom, was browsing his blog today and decided to check out when his very first post on his current journal was. Turns out to be just one day after I made my very first blog entry here on Blogger.]
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