Cabaret girl

Cut!

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 02:26:33 +0800

I tell you, there is something about cutting your own showreel that makes you second guess every single move you make, makes you want to have a go at the infinite possible permutations and combinations of cuts, as if you had unlimited time, an indestructible body, and a cat that'd just sit on your lap and purr instead of walking around your keyboard putting his big grey paws on the space bar every other half hour.

Now change all the yous in that sentence to me, or I, or my, or mine... and thus you (no, not me. This you is really YOU) have my current situation.

This is the 3rd night I'm sitting in front of the computer, at 2am in the morning, trying to put together a 2 and a half minute showreel of all my work to date, my prides and my joys, my stories and my glories. I can't quite figure out why it's taking such a long time, and I'm putting it down to the fact that self-promotion has never been my forte. Never mind the fact that I proclaim to be an undiscovered genius, that I use misoclever as one of my email addresses (the other 2 are megeniusss and absoluteliyen), that I have trained my interns to address me as 'o supreme ruler of the universe'. Never mind those, any fool knows those are just a cover up for the real insecurities that lie beneath. It's a terribly hard thing to blow one's own trumpet, especially if it's a rusty old instrument that hasn't been touched in yonks and yonks and yonks.

But the show must go on. The reel must be cut. If not to get a job that'll up my spending power by 100%, then just to prove it is actually possible for me to satisfy my toughest critic ever.

Go me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Seen and heard...

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:43:35 +0800

#1: ...while waiting for a cab, and 3 guys saunter by on the pavement.
Indian guy A: ... so you know, it depends.
Indian guy B: What pants?
Indian guy C: Tight pants!
Dead silence as all 3 stop stare at each other in utter confusion.

#2:...walking back to the office in the pouring rain.
2 construction workers are standing under the awning of a wine store, staring mournfully at the heaven-sent downpour, wondering how they're going to make it back to their site 2 blocks away. An Indian guy in a suit walks past them, out in the rain, holding 2 umbrellas in each hand, all folded up, getting wetter with every step. The construction workers watch him pass in absolute horror.

#3: ...as a newly-wed friend tries to fill up a compulsory Spousal Membership Application form at her husband's country club.
Name: (fills in her name)
NRIC: (fills in her IC number)
Marital Status: ... (profound silence as she rereads the first line of instruction on the form - Only fill up this form if you recently married one of our members.)

#4: ...as another friend waits in line behind an office lady to buy some guava.
Guava uncle: How much sour plum powder you want?
Office lady: Not too much. But not too little.
Guava uncle: Eh? So how much?
Office lady: Not too little. But not too much either.
Awkward silence as uncle and lady stare at each other in incomprehension. Friend walks away from the line, thinking he'll never be a guava uncle for as long as he lives.

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Higher, faster, stronger.

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 12:04:11 +0800

I am happy to report that things seem to be on the up and up right now. For some reason I woke up one morning a couple weeks ago, and everything just seemed... good. Better. It's lasting quite a while, this bout of positivity, so I'm just rolling with it and enjoying it all while it lasts.

My company just finished a 4-day shoot for the Olympics opener, and I honestly think it went fairly well. Of course there were a few hiccups here and there, but on the whole I think we got all the shots we needed, and they were mostly beautiful shots at that. There is something about a serious athlete, isn't there? A person passionate about his/her sport, an expert in that area... It was very obvious to see, those we'd casted who were professionals, or at least were regular practitioners of their chosen sport, were quick to shoot, warmed up on their own, didn't need much direction, knew what to do that looked good... and the ease with which they performed! It was quite amazing to watch. I only wish there was any one thing I could do with that much grace and facility. To be able to be in such control of your own body... I now realise what an impressive feat that is.

Right then. In keeping with my positive streak I'm going to keep working now, when I'm supposed to keep working. Also, I now have flowers on my desk, which makes it that much more pleasant to sit here for longer periods of time. I don't have to stop to smell them, they're just there. MMmmmmm.

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Unfocused

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 22:16:15 +0800

Sometimes i'm appalled by just how lethargic and lifeless i've become at the office. At first i thought it was the whole man/mom/dad thing. But i'm more or less getting my head around all that now, and i'm still an absolute mess at work. I don't know where the cool, focused, in control me is anymore. Maybe i've just lost the joy in working here. Maybe the humongous fiasco in January took it all out of me. But i refuse to believe i can't recover from that blow. I'm good at that - i get hit, i catch my breath, i crawl back up again, and i'm stronger for it. Not once have i not made it back in better shape than i was before. So that's PROBABLY not it.

I think i just need to find something to focus on. Since work is not it, there has to be something else. It's not going to be another boy at this moment either, so it's gotta be like, an activity or something. Something to occupy my mind. I want to either take up a language, or yoga, or dance. Ballroom or salsa. These might all be temporary measures. But stopgap is better than no stopgap, isn't it? When you have a gaping wound, the first concern must be to stop the blood from gushing out wot? Makes perfect sense to me.

Right then. Stopgap it is. I'm so glad i rationalised that so easy.

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I like me.

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 00:58:20 +0800

You know i do remember a time when i was perfectly happy to go home early, to watch TV, or just hang out with myself. I remember telling myself i had to sleep by midnight, so as to rest and not grow old so quickly, and maintain some health. I remember enjoying that time at home that i had to myself. Somehow i can't remember it anymore. Along the way i've forgotten how to enjoy my own company. I need to find that again.

Ok. It starts today.

Or maybe next week. After my mom goes back to Vietnam.

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Words are all i got.

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 16:55:51 +0800

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

Whoever said that, didn't know jack. No, not jack the person. Jack the general term used to describe nothing. And it never fails to surprise me how the most hurtful things on earth can come from the mouths of your parents. No, not your parents. My parents. When your mom says she wishes she were childless (no not your mom, my mom), all because she smells alcohol on your breath (no not your breath, my breath) and thinks you're a raging alcoholic and a massive disappointment...

Um.

I'll have the sticks and stones please.

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Flight

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 22:29:52 +0800

It is rare that i pick up a free postcard off a rack, rarer still that i carry it home and look at it the next day, over and over and over again.

I've been reminded that it is a gift, to be able to move people, and indeed, to be moved, be it through dance, song, or words. It is also a reminder that random moments are quite possibly what it's all about. We'll never get that same moment again, but the beauty of the moment will always be something to cherish. And it's a precursor of many more moments of different but no less captivating beauty.

Front

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The urge to splurge

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 15:01:05 +0800

"How can money be the root of all evil, when shopping is the cure for all sadness?"
- Naomi Comer

I'd never put much stock in that saying, simply because i seldom go shopping. Friends have said i'm not a very good representative of the female of the species - i know little about makeup, less about fashion, and owning racks and racks of shoes does not a happy Li Yen make. I just never really enjoyed shopping, because it takes far too much time, usually involves shouldering through crowds, waiting in line, and more often than not leaves me wracked with indecision over whether to buy the pink or the black.

Until last week.

Last week, i went mildly nuts. Possibly i suffered a massive personality change, because in the span of 2 days i spent about $700, mostly on underwear (or lingerie, as someone pointed out recently. Guys wear underwear. Girls wear lingerie. Um. Sure.), the rest on assorted things like bags and accessories and toiletries. And strangely enough, I felt good having spent all that money, and that's very un-me. I never feel good spending money, because i am not a rich person, and every cent spent makes me that much less rich.

But last week, spend i did.

After that I took it upon myself to calculate just how much money i'd spent on shopping over the past couple months. The final figure came out to a hefty S$1,500 since November, averaging out to a not so intimidating $500 a month. It's still quite a lot more than i'm used to spending though, seeing how throughout the rest of the year i'd only shelled out about $800 on frivolities like clothes and shoes and a whole bunch of random t-shirts that always make me smile when i put them on.

Apart from the numbers though, the other conclusion i came to is that i have succumbed to shopping as a form of therapy. If i were to put the 2 timelines side by side, there is little doubt my shopping sprees would coincide nicely with the ebbs and flows of all the tumult that has been my life over the past 3 months. Since October really, was when all the excitement, for want of a better word, or perhaps chaos would fit too, started, and that's when the shopping started as well.

Upon further contemplation, and i contemplate a lot, it is my understanding that the shopping helps because i get to make the decisions. However much thought i have to put into making my final choice, it is my decision to make, and nobody else's actions would so much as make a dent on what i pick out. Although if we're talking lingerie, then perhaps it does matter what someone else's opinion is.

But again i digress.

Shopping helps because i'm in control. And over the past couple of months very little has been within my control. How people react to me, how they treat me, what they think of me, how they live, how they treat each other, it's all way beyond my ability to manipulate. And it seems to have upset me a lot more than i cared to admit before. Because these things matter. It's not right that anyone could possibly have more than one cancer. It's not right that someone who's 28 and obviously mature enough to handle her own life should be treated like a 5 year old imbecile. It's not right for some someone to throw herself into a relationship, albeit a fuzzy one that was almost 100% shrouded in doom from the start, expecting nothing but the best, if only for a short period of time, only to have the other person turn a cold shoulder without an explanation, and THEN nonchalantly go back to being friends again. It's just not right. And these are things which i should be able to get explanations for, because i deserve better.

I realise "i deserve better" is never going to work as a plausible reason for an easier time, but it really should suffice. I believe in things coming around that go around, and if i haven't passed anything too bad around, i shouldn't be getting anything too bad coming around either wot? Round and round and round...

Just like a washing machine.

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7 days of...

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Mon, 28 Jan 2008 20:32:31 +0800

So it's been a really long week and weekend. Polished off a few projects in record time, visited the dad in hospital every day, had a possibly career-ending chat with the bosses, kickboxed - twice, took a day off, fixed my car keys so now i can beep my doors open instead of manually shoving the key in, shopped like there was no tomorrow (and there might not be, now that i've burnt such a big hole in my pocket), received my first ever manicure, dragonboated, got wasted at a black tie ball, worked hard at the safari, and managed to squeeze drinks in a couple times along the way. I'm surprised there's any of me left to go around. And it feels like there isn't anymore. I came into the office this morning and promptly dozed off at our weekly meeting. Which is SUCH a bad idea seeing how i'm already so in the doghouse with the big guns.

Gosh.

I can't even remember what i started this post for. There was a point i wanted to make, but right now i sure as heck don't have a clue what that was. Maybe it was just to remind myself there is a reason why some people prefer to go to bed early regularly, just so they can avoid feeling like i do at this very moment.

It's bed time for this bugger.

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Che dovrei fare?

nobody@vox.com(megeniusss) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 19:00:57 +0800

Sto pensando di andare in Italia in Aprile... i miei amici a genova vogliono viaggiare da Genova a Sicilia, e dopo a Morocco. Che ne pensi?

Normalmente, prendo qualsiasi opportunita per lasciare singapore, per qualsiasi periodo del tempo. Stavolta, pero, sono abbastanza indecisa. Non mi sembra un buon periodo per lasciare la famiglia, e anche il lavoro. Il mio padre non ha buona salute, e all'ufficio siamo occupatissimi. Sto sperando per un avanzamento, presto, e se non sono presente durante Aprile...

Non ho menzionato ancora il problema dei soldi. Mi pare che la tasca avessi un gran buco questi giorni...

Ma ogni anno vado in giro. E una tradizione da 5 anni, e ho poco propenso ad accettarne un compromesso. Ho un gran bisogno di una pausa dalla vita. Anche, parliamo di tornare in italia! Mi manca quello paese, la gente, la cultura, il cibo... mmmm... mi manca proprio il cibo :D

Aaaaaaah. Non mi piacciono queste decizioni. Aiutami, ti prego.

Mi fa ridere, quante righe ci sono sotto le parole ogni volta che scrivo in Italiano. Quasi tutte le parole non sono scritto correttamente, secondo questo dizionario...

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