| Sunday, November 8, 2009 |
| well-deserved holiday |
I had an INSANE hair-ripping five hours today, no yesterday. It started in the late afternoon and ended up with Vic and I having dinner at half past ten.
Because yes, I only finished my work at that time.
GRUNT.
I've never spent this much time on an essay, and it's only three, four pages long. eurgh. I don't feel like I've elaborated enough. I don't feel like it's good enough.
I don't feel like it's enough, period.
And it frustrates me. It's my final assignment for this module, the least I can do is freaking get it right, right?
But my brain, it was swimming with all the things I needed to say but it refused to construct decent sentences.
okay, forget it, it's over and I've sent it in.
Noooooow I am off to Batam with the bestest company in the world! (after my famahwee of course)
Hello Sun, sea, sand and awesome worship:D:D
It's very well deserved, I'd say. I finished my last English assignment for the entire module, I finished five shows and a month long of intensive rehearsals, I lost about half a handful of blubber, I did my first write-up for an InwardBound program and I learnt A LOT of awesomely cool techniques during my last two Muay Thai Classes.
omg I love it sooo much.
So yay, happiness much!
Happy Batam! (as Shawn puts it. hahahaa)
xoxoxo
ps: I<3 Vineyard Conferences SOOOOOOOOOO much! I can't wait for this one!Labels: everyday life, TRAVEL |
posted by Charis Vera @ 2:15:00 AM  |
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| Friday, November 6, 2009 |
| stole |
"Hi!" He says cheerily. He is beaming, an honest smile on his face. "What're you doing here?"
"Oh sir, hello. Working part-time only sir, only on weekends sir."
"You sure?" He asks, concerned, because he truly does want to help.
"Oh yes sir, it is okay sir. I only live there." He points straight ahead to government apartments, his mind turning over images of his family, his children.
His boss relaxes, pats him on the shoulder and goes off to pay the bill for filling his Lexus up with a full tank.
As he keys in the numbers and fills the tank up with gas, he strains to peer through the window of the passenger seat; perhaps he might steal just a glimpse of this fortunate man's life. An imagery he can use, when he's lying awake and dreaming of how much better off he could be.
She squirms a little bit, brushes fringe out of her eyes and runs her left hand briefly over face.
This life, it's not hers. It doesn't belong to her, this life. It doesn't.
She balances her 13-month-old on her hip, rummaging through her handbag for that piece of paper. Giving up, she smiles weakly at her friend, sipping her caramel frappe right across from her. She watches her friend light a menthol cigarette and turns away for a second, before turning around to smile. Eying the O level students at the next table, and the stack of manila folders her friend has shoved under an arm, she says,
"You're lucky," pauses to think, sifting through her words carefully. "You have a long time yet."
And her friend, she stares at her, at her little boy, at all that she cannot have. But this life, it's not hers. It doesn't belong to her, this life. She's stolen it and it not hers, not really.
"Hey doll, you gonna finish that?" His words are slurred and his breath reeks of vomit and alcohol. There are spaces in his clothes where pockets should have been, iron-on patches of teddy bears, where expensive brand names once were.
He grabs the bottle of half finished beer even before I've finished shaking my head, curls up on the corner of Smith street and pulls a trash bag tightly around him like a blanket.
But this life, it's not mine. The means to pay for this beer, the handful of chips I leave unfinished on the table. This life, it is not mine and it is not mine to take for granted.
"And I was just wondering if you've got a minute to spare," her voice is posh, crisp, light. "Oh I've got more than that really," comes the reply, "I just wouldn't like to waste your time, you know?"
"Oh no," she laughs, "it's my job, really."
"Well," the person on the other line says, shuffling papers on his desk, "I'd like to arrange for a meeting with your director anyway. Whether or not you give me the whole spiel. Because honestly, I've wanted to call you guys for ages."
After the phone call she stretches, wanders to the window of her office. She stares at the empty ashtray, and glances over at her duffel bag which she knows doesn't contain any smokes.
But oh this life, it's not hers.
It's stolen, taken by force. This life, it's not her at all.
She's lying in a bathtub filled with warm water that's gone cold. A huge vertical line across her left wrist, and her journal, open to the last entry, balanced precariously on the lip of the tub. The bathroom, oh it's such a mess and surely grandma will fret over how to clean it all up. But there's just a hint of a smile on her face, her clothes soaked to the skin and a flash of silver on the floor of the bathtub, quiet and used.
And all she has are scars. Horizontal lines that are proof of her failings.
And this life, oh this life, this life, it's not hers.
It's not hers to have.Labels: Personal, Stories |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 9:49:00 PM |
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| Monday, November 2, 2009 |
| they ask why we've got it made? |
we don't.
Wait, like, seriously?
Don't know the full story, or the entire drama or whatever,
but I get this thing that you blow stuff way out of proportion.
It's a tad silly, I find.
All your weird analogies and explanations and excuses and melodrama.
I think it's whatever you want to make of it, really.
I think there's an insanely simple explanation to the bullshit.
But why write about that when you can dramatize everything and make it into a long and lovely blog post instead right?
geez.Labels: rant |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 12:01:00 AM |
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| Wednesday, October 28, 2009 |
| Hello World |
So right now I am ripping open my last packet of Salon Pas to slap it on my stiff shoulders and neck.
wait ah, wave of nostalgia coming.
sigh.
okay, fine now.
See, I bought a stack of three packets of SalonPas (each with ten pieces inside) when we were in the middle of rehearsals.
Yes, our crazy intensive lovely utterly absorbing insane addictive rehearsals. And well, all that build up and intensity was for this. All of this.
Bump in on Monday, shows on Tuesday and Wednesday.
It is Wednesday today.
Our last show at Singapore Repertory Theatre.
We do have one more show at Dunman High next week, but then, that's just one show.
This, what we've just finished, was the big thing we were leading up to. And now it's kind of more or less over.
So I slap these medicated plasters on with a tinge of sadness. My hands got all cut up from crawling around and grabbing splintered poles, my legs are the canvas of an over-enthusiastic, random, unplanned (and possibly quite mad) painter; With splotches of green and blue and purple and red.
And I think, God, I am going to miss this so so much.
But that's the thing about theatre isn't it? It takes days and months to build something up, if I may quite Rachel, and then in moments it's kind of, all over the place.
The stage is empty, a staff actually tells you that you're not allowed on the stage (WTF?!) because you're in sandals, you watch your set get undrilled and packed off into the open mouth of an old lorry.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go all sad and watery-eyed on you.
We had an awesome show today. We really did.
Trial of Bella T was the best we'd ever done and Lord of the Flies, well, I personally found it scarier.
That's not all that happened today though.
I also gave myself a cheat-day, which was right after the last show and which made me a very happy bunny. I've been off alcohol for ohh, a while (like two weeks). So we hit the bottle at five ish. Not bad I say.
And then, two weeks early, while I was in theatre running, screaming, jumping, chanting, killing, breathing, living, being,
I became an older sister for the third time.
(:Labels: everyday life, Personal, WORK(theatre/film) |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 11:51:00 PM |
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| Thursday, October 22, 2009 |
| I never kid when I talk about how much I love work |
...despite the fact that I was throwing together my stuff for an invoice that I need to get sent out, and that I was doing this on an hour-long bus ride on what happened to be a non-air-conditioned bus during peak hours.
I did get off feel like I was very very pregnant and like I would freaking collapse on the road and vomit in my mouth. I felt clammy and uncomfortable but I marched myself to the juice stall where I picked up dinner, met Becs, said "Hello" and sounded like a guy, and then went up for rehearsals.
So I'm like, munching on an orange and my boss comes up to me with a huge brown paper bag from Body Shop.
Nora: Take.
C: omgomg! my hands are dirty, wait ah! Tissue please!
Jo: Where's the tissue?
C: I don't know, forget it.
(I go back to her and stare at the bag)
C: My hands are still dirty but nehhmind la.
Jo: oh here! found the tissue!
C: ohoh thanks!
Nora: aiyoh I'm getting irritated already lah, here you go!
and she pulls out a bottle of really nice soap and gives it to me:D
TEE HEEEEEEE
It's smells super duper uber nice!
And right after this post, I'm going to lather up and smell of tangerines!(:
We're getting closer to performance date. I'm a bit jittery. I feel like there's so much more for me to do. I don't feel like I'm giving enough and I hate it I hate it I hate it.
I feel like I'm trying to give my all but I'm not, not really. And I can't stand it.
Because when it comes to theatre, I always give more than everything I've got. And I don't understand why it doesn't feel like I'm giving enough.
But then, perhaps we've grown a bit old from the day-to-day of it all.
So we've been given the day off (although it's not really a day off for me because I've got to go for rehearsals for another show) and we'll meet again the following day.
There aren't any reasons, I feel.
I mean, as dry as the jokes get, as unfresh as the scenes are to us, it is solely our responsibility to keep it fresh and crisp like we've just heard/seen it for the first time.
With that knowledge, and also with the break that comes with tomorrow,
I hope Friday will turn out to be insanely high-energy. I hope we'll pick it all up instead of being all jello-ed.
I hope I put in more than I've ever put in before.Labels: everyday life, WORK(theatre/film) |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 12:04:00 AM |
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| Wednesday, October 21, 2009 |
| Lord of the Silent Blogger! |
Why hello hello!
Feels like forever since I've bothered with the daily updates and tweets.
Yes, it's been busy and tiring but it's been insanely fulfilling at the same time.
God, I was born to do this and oh, the rush!
(:
Anyhoos,
Lord Of The Flies, being incredibly movement-intensive, I figured I ought to do more rather than just moving about when I'm on set.
SO, I've finally gotten off my ass and signed up for Muay Thai. Private classes, most are. Okay not really, I just pick time slots with no one around so that I get private classes(:
Bird joined me yesterday, in fact. Was quite quite fun:D:D
Yesterday was very nice because my instructor said I was especially good. TEEHEE:D
So I've completely gone off smokes, I do Muay Thai three times a week and swim twice week.
Aren't I just a healthy bunny! I like I like!
Rehearsals have been very fruitful. We've gotten a lot of stuff sorted out and costumes are more or less done. I'm insanely happy now and getting quite excited!
The show's in exactly six days and secretly, even though we've been talking about taking out one rehearsal, I don't think we need to. Kind of because I really enjoy rehearsals and also, because it's one of the things I'm going to miss when everything's over.
The thing about theatre that I love and hate at the same time, is the intensity of it all. For the weeks or months that rehearsals are on-going, you get drawn into this alternate reality.
A world where, like in my case, council girls turn on each other, animalistic behaviour or plain insane savagery becomes something one actively chooses.
It's so crazy, but it comes with this lovely rush.
But then, when it's all over, you wake up half wondering what to do with yourself.
You pick up the bamboo poles to do the laundry and think about how it could be used to kill someone. You fidget with the clean wash and wonder why it's not bloodied and ripped.
You feel sand beneath your feet, even though you're stepping on parquet floors.
The euphoria is addictive, but the post-performance blues hit you hard.
Thinking about it now almost makes me wish we were back to the very beginning of rehearsals.
Okay. No sad thoughts until it's all over!
and ooooh, the excitement pulsing through my veins!
Can't wait for you guys to see it! I know I haven't told a loooot of people about it. It's quite tough, with the limitations of seats.
Okay so, it's on the
27th and 28th of October. Next Tuesday and Wednesday.
Two time slots a day: 10am-12noon/ 3pm-5pm
Singapore Repertory Theatre
Tickets are $35.
The only available seats left right now are on Tuesday afternoon/morning (i think).
The 28th is completely sold out):
Let me know asap if you'd like to come!Labels: WORK(theatre/film) |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 10:44:00 AM |
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| Wednesday, October 14, 2009 |
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"Maybe you could learn to like me too! Hang me in the bathroom?"
--Annie
Something hurts when I swallow. It's in the right side of my throat.
I fell on my left ankle yesterday, during a performance, and sprained it.
teehee, sorry. Just counting my hurts (like I do with my bruises). It's a good thing, really.
And oh, she drove me quite mad today, and for the first time. It irritated me so and sapped the energy from everything else we had to do afterwards. I think you ought to be more considerate, more professional, less like a fourteen year old brat who can't take getting your cues wrong.
But you know, maybe you wouldn't be getting your bloody cues wrong if you put in more effort love.
okay! rant over!
The day's been alright.
I went back for Founder's Day and loved it. The singing, the vibe, the saying hello to teachers who, my word, still remembered my name! Talked to Mrs Lee and Ms Yoong, and had a bit of a laugh, thinking about the terror that was me.
I love PL, truly I do.
Because it shaped me in more ways than I could've ever imagined. It's just a shame that I didn't appreciate what I had. I mean, I know I had to leave when I did. But if I'd been less distracted, I'd have graduated side by side with my best friends in the entire world.
It's the only thing I've hated myself for missing out on.
Nonetheless, the way my life's turned out isn't half bad. And I like it, no wait, love it just the way it is.
I finished Jodi Picoult's Vanishing Acts today. It's one of the really good ones, save for the personal life of the protagonist. Bit fucked, I think. But I might just understand when I read it the second time round.
Ought to get off my ass and sign up for driving. Since I've already gotten off my ass to get it whooped over the next couple of weeks.
I'm happy and excited because of this thing that I feel committed enough to put myself through. I hope it works out, I hope I can cope. teehee!
Then, my schoolwork, my grades.
An 82 isn't even remotely as high as it sounds and Lord, am I frustrated. Ever so frustrated.
Oh, so much to do.
I wish I could disappear into all the rehearsals and lines and sets without having the baggage of school weighing me down like bricks.
But then, I need to get somewhere with all of this, don't I?
I'm going away for a while.
Horse-riding, shopping, possibly lying around on a beach.
My word, don't I love getting out of the country.
These last three months of the year are like, the favouritest but also, quite nightmarish at the same time.
blah, freaking blah. Starting to rant.
actually.
just.
bloody.
tired.Labels: everyday life, Personal, WORK(theatre/film) |
| posted by Charis Vera @ 9:26:00 PM |
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