Been doing a shoot for some film grad students, which has been unexpectedly fun, if tiring. I think it's more enjoyable because they're more easygoing than the get-it-over'n-done-with corporate and TV people, less harebrained and full of themselves than undergrad students, and actually give a damn about how their actors are faring...especially at 4am when the shoot is still a few hours from wrapping. I swear, I've never been offered a foot massage before on set. Repeatedly.
But an effect of shooting a short film about tenuous relationship identities and doing the 'right' thing (or the perception of doing it) in multiple-dimensional relationships is forcibly reminding me of the endings and near-endings that have stained and maimed me over the years.
I didn't need to be reminded of the pain of parting.
I didn't need to be reminded of the all-encompassing desire to yank someone back to me when they are already running in the opposite direction.
I didn't need to be reminded of the fucking illogical desire for a poisonous man, the kind that only kindles self-hatred by the end of things.
Nor the ugliness of self-discovery.
Nor the repulsion of making out with someone you don't really want. [No offense to anyone, but even the most gorgeous male alive would repulse me if I weren't attracted to him and had to make out with him. But professionalism will always be priority.]
Nor the sick feeling in the pit of the stomach when going through with something you know, on a deeper level, should not be.
Nor the feeling of utter solitude while next to someone.
Or maybe I needed to, and just didn't want to.
Ultimately we're all better for knowing and considering all of the above, and each stab will scab over to remind us of the painful lessons learnt, and what it is to live and love. Provided one is open to learning, of course. I will say that while it's unpleasant to revisit the numerous hurts, I don't regret them, nor the memory of them. It's these that shape us, like it or not. I probably owe whatever maturity I have to each scar I took (and learned not to pick at).
Every time something once-wonderful ends, it's natural to think it a soul-grating waste of time, forgetting, of course, what the once-wonderful parts of it did for your soul while it lasted. I disagree - I think it can all worth be it. And that's what keeps me going. Hoping the next one will be worth the ride too. The bumpy, thumpy, gut-wrenching ride. There has to be someone worth it. I know I am.
Sondheim probably said it best.
"Somebody hold me too close
Somebody hurt me too deep
Somebody sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep
And make me aware of being alive"
~Being Alive~
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Hobbling but happy
The year-beginning slump has officially ended. I'm a decently employed freelancer! Yay! Though, I still won't complain at more work.
Sure, I'm tired from the multiple activities (and playing too much of The Sims 2) and sometimes a bit boggled keeping track of everything that's going on at once, and currently a bit woozy from a 12-hour all-night shoot that ended when the sun rose, after a week of little sleep, but hey, I'm busy! Busy makes Daffy a happy chick! *two thumbs up*
Hang on while I keel over with a thud.
Now waiting for that new client to hand me more writing stuff to do. Money money money money...
Didn't think I'd say this just a couple of months ago, but I can't wait for the short break that's coming up where I get to sleep in and play all the Sims I want, and finally grab time with the friends I've neglected this sleep-deprived month. Most especially my very dear friend who'll be going away later this year, whom I'll miss very much.
Anyone wanna go clubbing this coming month??
Sure, I'm tired from the multiple activities (and playing too much of The Sims 2) and sometimes a bit boggled keeping track of everything that's going on at once, and currently a bit woozy from a 12-hour all-night shoot that ended when the sun rose, after a week of little sleep, but hey, I'm busy! Busy makes Daffy a happy chick! *two thumbs up*
Hang on while I keel over with a thud.
Now waiting for that new client to hand me more writing stuff to do. Money money money money...
Didn't think I'd say this just a couple of months ago, but I can't wait for the short break that's coming up where I get to sleep in and play all the Sims I want, and finally grab time with the friends I've neglected this sleep-deprived month. Most especially my very dear friend who'll be going away later this year, whom I'll miss very much.
Anyone wanna go clubbing this coming month??
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Which part of NO WAITING do you not understand?
I will sound like a stickler saying this, but people, traffic rules are usually there for a reason, dammit.
Today, one stupid schmuck was responsible for getting a whole lotta people stuck for 25 minutes.
There's a little turning from North Bridge Road onto North Boat Quay, which is a really short little road that joins to River Valley Road. You can see the MICA building and Clarke Quay from it. I pass through it very frequently on my way home, often driving, and there's one thing that never fails to irk me.
Right by the road facing a bus stop is High Street Centre. There is bunch of cars and trucks *very* illegally and perennially parked there along the no-wait zone (marked by a yellow zigzag). Since it's a small road with only two lanes, those inconsiderately parked vehicles manage to cause a bottleneck most hours of the day. I always wondered why the traffic cops have never had a field day there.
Today, I was on the 195, heading home after a tiring day at rehearsal (where I'd managed to do something weird to my lower back).
It is 5.45pm. As the bus driver gingerly tries to make the tight turn, he finds the bus blocked by a truck (with its hazard lights blinking) stopped right at the start of the no-wait stretch. Being a long vehicle, there is no way the bus can clear the turning without taking the lamp post and a few small trees with it if the truck doesn't make way. Naturally, the bus driver starts honking. After a minute or two, it becomes clear that the truck driver is nowhere nearby.
After 10 minutes, a few passengers decide to get off the bus and try their luck elsewhere, but I am too tired to follow suit. Meanwhile, curious passers-by are starting to peer into the truck and look around to see how they can help.
After 15 minutes, the building security guard comes round to check things out. One assumes he isn't clairvoyant enough to figure out where the truck driver is.
20 minutes later, a traffic cop arrives. He, too, walks around the truck, checking it out. He too can't clairvoyantly find the missing driver. By this time, a very long queue of cars waiting to turn has formed behind the bus since that junction sees a constant flow of traffic, especially at friggin rush hour. PLUS a long queue of cars on the down-ramp of the building's parking lot that can't get out because of the hold-up.
25 minutes later, the idiot driver finally shows up wheeling a trolley, and the oh-fuck look on his face is clear as he spots the cop. The young punk wisely decides to avoid eye contact with anyone else while he goes to move his truck out of the way.
I hope he gets a MAJOR summon.
Today, one stupid schmuck was responsible for getting a whole lotta people stuck for 25 minutes.
There's a little turning from North Bridge Road onto North Boat Quay, which is a really short little road that joins to River Valley Road. You can see the MICA building and Clarke Quay from it. I pass through it very frequently on my way home, often driving, and there's one thing that never fails to irk me.
Right by the road facing a bus stop is High Street Centre. There is bunch of cars and trucks *very* illegally and perennially parked there along the no-wait zone (marked by a yellow zigzag). Since it's a small road with only two lanes, those inconsiderately parked vehicles manage to cause a bottleneck most hours of the day. I always wondered why the traffic cops have never had a field day there.
Today, I was on the 195, heading home after a tiring day at rehearsal (where I'd managed to do something weird to my lower back).
It is 5.45pm. As the bus driver gingerly tries to make the tight turn, he finds the bus blocked by a truck (with its hazard lights blinking) stopped right at the start of the no-wait stretch. Being a long vehicle, there is no way the bus can clear the turning without taking the lamp post and a few small trees with it if the truck doesn't make way. Naturally, the bus driver starts honking. After a minute or two, it becomes clear that the truck driver is nowhere nearby.
After 10 minutes, a few passengers decide to get off the bus and try their luck elsewhere, but I am too tired to follow suit. Meanwhile, curious passers-by are starting to peer into the truck and look around to see how they can help.
After 15 minutes, the building security guard comes round to check things out. One assumes he isn't clairvoyant enough to figure out where the truck driver is.
20 minutes later, a traffic cop arrives. He, too, walks around the truck, checking it out. He too can't clairvoyantly find the missing driver. By this time, a very long queue of cars waiting to turn has formed behind the bus since that junction sees a constant flow of traffic, especially at friggin rush hour. PLUS a long queue of cars on the down-ramp of the building's parking lot that can't get out because of the hold-up.
25 minutes later, the idiot driver finally shows up wheeling a trolley, and the oh-fuck look on his face is clear as he spots the cop. The young punk wisely decides to avoid eye contact with anyone else while he goes to move his truck out of the way.
I hope he gets a MAJOR summon.
Possibilities of a man on a bicycle
While driving today, I drove past a man on a bicycle pedalling uphill. He was more hunched than short, more tawny than dark, more care-worn than old. In other words, the kind of guy that we generally pass by every day without giving much of a thought about, other than to dismiss as another ageing labourer.
And I found myself doing the thing I feel inspired to do every now and then - to capture passing images of people and wonder what their stories are. Well, spinning their stories may be more like it.
He may be an unremarkable man leading an unremarkable life in an unremarkable place.
He could be a foreigner who came here to work and just never went back. His wife may have long given up writing to him and went to another city to work herself.
He could be wearing that dull brown t-shirt to cover the intricately interweaving tattoos that decorate the back and the front of his body. If you looked carefully (and if he would ever show them to you), you would spot an occasional symbol in the mosaic of tattoos that you might not recognise fully but would put discomfort in your heart that you could not place.
Or to cover the deep purple grooves that form angry canyons up and down his back. The scars are clearly old but they still scream of a time that nearly took his life. He never tells anyone how he got them.
Maybe he rides that bicycle at 5pm to his third home of the day. It could be a void deck where he tells stories to passing children. It could be the coffee shop where they tolerate him and sometimes even give him food. It could be the seaside where he waits for sundown to start preying on lone beach goers and couples caught unaware, dragged into the filthy surf by silent hands where the last thing they will ever see is the dim glow of unnatural eyes in the murky water. It could be the lush living room of a lone expatriate who did not notice the dark but benign shadow that slipped in through the open window, nor the bicycle that lies propped up against the wall beneath the window - the unseen guest wanting nothing more than a place to rest for the night.
He could be a reflection of a man in a different land, pedalling up a different hill, passing by different scenery. Maybe the man does not see the cars driving around him nor the condominiums lining his route, but sees the familiar acres of farmland he proudly owns, unaware that he is seen a thousand miles from where he is. Maybe a careless driver who heads, terrified, right into the man and his bicycle will hit nothing but a holographic pool of light, and be sure that what he saw was a ghost when all he saw was a reflection from another part of the world. And hence, another ghost story is born. How these reflections come to be seen is not quite known, because one can never tell how reality truly works.
It's 5am and I've gotten carried away. I have rehearsal in 5 hours. Aiii.
But the mini story trip was worth it.
I wish I could write these down while I am driving. These moments when I see the possibilities in images of people, and, without fail, followed by pure curiosity about the one possibility that is their real life. I wonder who they are.
And I found myself doing the thing I feel inspired to do every now and then - to capture passing images of people and wonder what their stories are. Well, spinning their stories may be more like it.
He may be an unremarkable man leading an unremarkable life in an unremarkable place.
He could be a foreigner who came here to work and just never went back. His wife may have long given up writing to him and went to another city to work herself.
He could be wearing that dull brown t-shirt to cover the intricately interweaving tattoos that decorate the back and the front of his body. If you looked carefully (and if he would ever show them to you), you would spot an occasional symbol in the mosaic of tattoos that you might not recognise fully but would put discomfort in your heart that you could not place.
Or to cover the deep purple grooves that form angry canyons up and down his back. The scars are clearly old but they still scream of a time that nearly took his life. He never tells anyone how he got them.
Maybe he rides that bicycle at 5pm to his third home of the day. It could be a void deck where he tells stories to passing children. It could be the coffee shop where they tolerate him and sometimes even give him food. It could be the seaside where he waits for sundown to start preying on lone beach goers and couples caught unaware, dragged into the filthy surf by silent hands where the last thing they will ever see is the dim glow of unnatural eyes in the murky water. It could be the lush living room of a lone expatriate who did not notice the dark but benign shadow that slipped in through the open window, nor the bicycle that lies propped up against the wall beneath the window - the unseen guest wanting nothing more than a place to rest for the night.
He could be a reflection of a man in a different land, pedalling up a different hill, passing by different scenery. Maybe the man does not see the cars driving around him nor the condominiums lining his route, but sees the familiar acres of farmland he proudly owns, unaware that he is seen a thousand miles from where he is. Maybe a careless driver who heads, terrified, right into the man and his bicycle will hit nothing but a holographic pool of light, and be sure that what he saw was a ghost when all he saw was a reflection from another part of the world. And hence, another ghost story is born. How these reflections come to be seen is not quite known, because one can never tell how reality truly works.
It's 5am and I've gotten carried away. I have rehearsal in 5 hours. Aiii.
But the mini story trip was worth it.
I wish I could write these down while I am driving. These moments when I see the possibilities in images of people, and, without fail, followed by pure curiosity about the one possibility that is their real life. I wonder who they are.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Shield your eyes while I boob-shimmy
Oh my god. Look what my mum just bought me.
Why not just call me Mimi and drop me off at Geylang? I'd do brisk business there.
It's rather dim in the photo, but the bling bling square in the middle of the chest is REALLY bling bling; I almost went blind when she waved it in my face. I love chili red, but not in this ahlian-gone-man-hunting getup. While not a complete monstrosity, it's soooo not my kinda thing.
Oh well, still better than shiny skin-coloured tights with tassels.
Why not just call me Mimi and drop me off at Geylang? I'd do brisk business there.It's rather dim in the photo, but the bling bling square in the middle of the chest is REALLY bling bling; I almost went blind when she waved it in my face. I love chili red, but not in this ahlian-gone-man-hunting getup. While not a complete monstrosity, it's soooo not my kinda thing.
Oh well, still better than shiny skin-coloured tights with tassels.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
And I Will Follow
Weird memes are all I seem to be posting these days, innit? This one is a goofy one - you set your iPod (or in my case, my iTunes) on shuffle and each time you answer a question, you hit forward and 'answer' the question with the title of the song that happens to play right then.
IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses - U2
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Pure Shores (2 Da Beach U Don't Stop remix) - All Saints
[YEAH RIGHT, pure...]
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Crossing the River - The Devlins
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Futures - Mindless Self Indulgence
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Almost Unreal - Roxette
[My parents appear to think so too]
WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Z - Mindless Self Indulgence
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Mourning Air - Portishead
[They've always told me I was cynical, but really...]
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?!
Blue Room - The Orb
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
I Adore Mi Amor - Color Me Badd
[I guess self-love is good?]
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
The Battle of Robot Bil - Terry S Taylor (The Neverhood soundtrack)
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Concerto No. 4 in F minor, L'inverno - Vivaldi (played by Nigel Kennedy)
[Always thought my life was more of a tropical island, though]
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
See Me Here (Skope's Vocal remix) - Orion
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden
[Almost any song is a funny answer here, if you think about it]
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Caprice No. 24 - Paganini
[Eh??]
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Moving On Up - M People
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
When You Believe - Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston
[This should be Jon's secret, not mine]
WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Your Daddy's Son - Ragtime soundtrack
[I already know what some of you will say about this...]
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Shake Some Action - Cracker
WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
And I Will Follow - Jason Robert Brown (sung by Lauren Kennedy)
[Which is how I've come to post this in the first place]
IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses - U2
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Pure Shores (2 Da Beach U Don't Stop remix) - All Saints
[YEAH RIGHT, pure...]
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Crossing the River - The Devlins
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Futures - Mindless Self Indulgence
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Almost Unreal - Roxette
[My parents appear to think so too]
WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Z - Mindless Self Indulgence
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Mourning Air - Portishead
[They've always told me I was cynical, but really...]
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?!
Blue Room - The Orb
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
I Adore Mi Amor - Color Me Badd
[I guess self-love is good?]
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
The Battle of Robot Bil - Terry S Taylor (The Neverhood soundtrack)
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Concerto No. 4 in F minor, L'inverno - Vivaldi (played by Nigel Kennedy)
[Always thought my life was more of a tropical island, though]
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
See Me Here (Skope's Vocal remix) - Orion
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden
[Almost any song is a funny answer here, if you think about it]
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Caprice No. 24 - Paganini
[Eh??]
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Moving On Up - M People
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
When You Believe - Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston
[This should be Jon's secret, not mine]
WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Your Daddy's Son - Ragtime soundtrack
[I already know what some of you will say about this...]
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Shake Some Action - Cracker
WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
And I Will Follow - Jason Robert Brown (sung by Lauren Kennedy)
[Which is how I've come to post this in the first place]
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