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Monday, February 26, 2007
Hello there Old Friend. It's been a good 4 years since our very first meeting where you enchanted me with your sweet words. Now we meet again. After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,
The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.
Let the ambitious zealot lay aside
His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;
Let slavish souls lay by their fear
Nor be concerned which way nor where
After this life they shall be hurled.
Dead, we become the lumber of the world,
And to that mass of matter shall be swept
Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.
Devouring time swallows us whole.
Impartial death confounds body and soul.
For Hell and the foul fiend that rules
God's everlasting fiery jails
(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),
With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,
Are senseless stories, idle tales,
Dreams, whimseys, and no more. John Wilmot
2nd Earl of Rochester
1647 - 1680
Nevermore... cries the sweet bird of death, Nevermore.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
If it wasn't official before, it's official now: Men are such bastards.Do let me clarify, I'm not male bashing here. Seeing is believing, and if you've seen the guys I've met, you'd concur with me. I don't get this male conquering shit. Girls are not pieces of meat. It's not about picking the choicest cut from the selection in the freezer. How is it possible to put the moves on someone so strongly, and the moment they're out of the room, your affections swing so quickly towards another person it makes the Batmobile seem like a broken Ford travelling on a flat tyre. How the fuck is that possible? Everyday a tiny bit of me dies along with the hope of finding someone to share my life with. This is so fucking depressing I don't want to think of it. I've become so disillusioned and jaded that I can't feel the hurt anymore. It's just another scar upon old scars on this maimed battlefield I take for a heart. I'm not capable of feeling the hurt because if I did, I'd be a wreck. I've learnt to take things in stride, and detach myself from my experiences. Call me callous and cold, detached and distant, flippant or flighty, but at least it keeps alive whatever emotions I have left in me.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
...because no human thing is of serious importance, and grief stands in the way of that which at the moment is most required. What is most required? he asked.That we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice have been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best; not, like children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck and wasting time in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul forthwith to apply a remedy, raising up that which is sickly and fallen, banishing the cry of sorrow by the healing art. ~ Plato, The Republic, Book X.Yes, as even the ancients knew then, turning negative to positive is the way to go. This really puts heaps of things in perspective. Saw a preview of a friend's show that she's taking to the Adelaide Fringe Festival. It's... well... indulgent. Don't get me wrong, the show gives the audience a lot of things, but it doesn't give them anything to work with or think about, if that makes sense. She's using the show purely as a form of therapy for herself. It's her outlet of catharsis. There is so much potential, but it's not being realised, and it leaves the audience feeling drained and tired purely because it's rather trite, and doesn't give the audience much creative positive energy to work with.But, enough of that, I do hope by the time it gets to the festival, she'll have fine-tuned many things and gotten good feedback about the show.l I honestly don't know how to tell her how I feel. She obviously feels really good about it, it's her baby, and I don't want to have to burst her bubble and go 'Look, I understand it's your brainchild, it's your pride and joy, but you're not doing justice to what you have. Don't use this show as a platform for your own issues. Use it to impact people and give them something to work with. In a nutshell, stop being so indulgent.' Oooooohhhh, harsh words aren't they? Don't know how I can do it. I'm too gentle a soul. (suppressed snort of indignance)
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
This year is looking great. I can hardly contain myself. All I need is for my bro's stupid bank account to unfreeze, GUH!!!!! Bloody annoying administrative crap.Chekhov is a genius. I haven't said it before, but I'm gonna say it many times to come. Chehkov captures the human condition so perfectly; it's frightening.Comedy stems from Chaos. *low satisfied moan*Everyone in an Ibsen play is lying.Everyone in a Miller play is hiding a secret.Nothing is resolved in Chekhovian plays.All men and women have an unresolved power struggle in the Greek plays.OOOOoOOoooHHHhHhHhhhHHhHH..... that stuff honestly makes me go all warm and shuddery inside.And actors are special people. We tug at the heartstrings of people. We take them on an emotional journey, because everyone wants to feel that rush; that danger; that fulfillment. Actors are the brief and abstract chronicles of our times. And I am proud to be one of that special breed of people.Actors are storytellers, and I must constantly remind myself not to be too affected by what I see or experience, because it is all an illusion. Learn to marvel at the experience Daphne, and not get carried away by it. Develop your outside eye.This is deja vu all over again. There are fireworks in the sky. Possibly for the Chinese New Year? I dunno. All I know is, I hear the sound of fireworks, and I look out the window, and I see the exact same set of fireworks I saw 4days ago. Ahhhh, good times. Possibly rather freaky, but what the hey! This probably carries no huge life changing implication, but, oh well!!!Energy, ahhh....... What an amazing concept. Passing on the energy; Keeping the energy up; Feeling each others energy, The energy of a scene. What does all this jargon mean? Probably nothing, to the lay person. But it holds such a huge plethora of possibilities, and impossibilities, to me. It is not theatrical wank. It's real; it's visceral; it's abstract; it's in all of us. And I am infinitely thankful that I can proudly say I am a chronicle of our time.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I am such a sook.
I want to be home for Chinese New Year. I want to be with my family; to be in the familiar warmth of home, to experience my annual routine of the past 22 years in a new environment that I now call 'home', to be safe, to be around the people who love me unconditionally, to be around people I love unconditionally, to be irritated by the flurry of activity going on around me, to want to wield an ax to the pestilent cousins and relatives, to hide out in the comfort of my room, to step over the threshold of a new year with my family, to be home.
I am such a sook.
But as Peter says, turn the negative into positive. Use it. And use it wisely, I shall.Unlike Rumpelstiltskin, no one will know my secret name.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
4 years and 2 weeks down the line; 1 year of being a stagehand. 3 of studying theatre. 2 weeks of rehearsal technique training. And I am still incapable of separating my thoughts from my emotions.I still get consumed by thoughts and let my emotions overwhelm me in an academic environment.Could it be that my emotions are merely easy catalysts? Or will I someday be able to keep the two in separate compartments?Let this one year show me what I am capable of.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Oh my gossssshhh........ I've just secured a date for lodging my visa application, secured a health check, decided what documents I need to print out for it, and now all I can do is wait. Gosh this feels strangely liberating yet clamping at the same time. I know I've done all I possibly can, but I still have a little tingle that something might go wrong from my oversight. On the other hand, I'm still twitching in my phantom limb, fearing I might get deported or they might reject it or something. Oh man, I just got a new passport and my old visa's on the old passport, and when I extend my visa, do I use the old or new? I just realised my new passport no. isn't my IC no. anymore. Great. This sure adds complications, doesn't it? Maybe if I pretend not to notice noone will blame me. Of course they blame you Daph! Where do you think you are? In kindergarten? Jesus, woman!So is this what it's gonna feel like being a producer? If it is, I'm gonna run myself up the wall and never come down. Well, if I do, I'll plummet in a downward spiral. But whinging about it isn't gonna help, is it? Well, off to take a dump, then have my brekkie, and then to start typing out the notes from my production mentor and sending it out via email to the rest of the group. Hope they don't think I'm trying to prove something, cuz I'm not!! I'm just paranoid and I don't wanna screw up!! Urgh! *grumbles, me and my big mouth, why did I say I wanted to start up my own theatre company in the audition in the first place?* Well, I do, but that's besides the point. I wanna start it, but let someone else do the shit work. Urgh!!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
2007First, birthday in strange foreign land with no loved ones.Then, Valentine's day with Clif in a trashy American diner with non-committal waiters-turned-dancers dancing to the twist on the hour.Followed by reunion dinner at Emil's place with God-knows-who-else, and I suspect I'm invited only cuz he mis-msged me.The coup de grace, first night of Chinese New Year, and I'll be in a bar having drinks and saying bye to a mate moving back to the country.What a crazy year this is turning out to be. To top it all off, I'm having 930am-530pm days, and it's shitting me up the wall. I can't take this all-day stint. It's been 4 years since I had early morning, all-day schedules. I signed up for theatre, not boot camp!! I lack the discipline, plus the winter mornings are gonna be unbearable!!! I just had a thought, at least birthday in a strange foreign land is better than birthday in a strange foreign bed in a strange foreign land. Good point Daphers. *pat on the back* Not that I'm advocating it anyway, I'm practising abstinence. (Bogge, keep your comments to yourself)
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
My student card expires next monthMy student visa expires next monthMy student rate bank account expires this monthMy don't remember when my student Overseas Health cover expiresIt costs $227AUD for a medical It costs $420AUD for a visa extensionWhat the hell?Right, I need to learn my lines for tomorrow. Which happens to be St Valentines Day. Pfffft, commercial bullshit. Focus Daph, focus. Your lines are more important than some legal visa document. But then, of course, without some crap legal document I can't really stay on and finish my training can I? Bloody catch-22.Just to make things slightly more annoying, my brother is annoying me, all the way from some 300000000 miles away. Fuck. Texts me and wishes me a Happy birthday, okie, and asks if I'm treating myself by going out shopping? Like seriously, some people have better things to do. Calls me the day after my birthday to whinge about how my parents are trying to make him save money. Messages me online 2 days later and says 'U can get me Dior Homme shoes for my birthday.' No, really, seriously, is there nothing more important than fucking shopping and extravagant material wants? His birthday isn't even for another month and a half!!!!!!!! When we do speak, 50% of the time he asks what I'm getting him for his birthday. 80% of the time he asks if I've gone out and taken a look at the boutiques. I have half a mind to get him fuckall for his birthday and see what he thinks. Of course, knowing him, he probably wouldn't get why I'm doing it. The poetic justice would have been wasted on him. I don't know what I even bother with him anymore. Oh that's right, he's my brother... urgh.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
| Your Brain's Pattern | 
You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy.
You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts.
People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused.
But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination. |
HAHAHAHAHHA!!!! I think it's rather accurate, especially the bit about having the ability t stay forever entertained by my own thoughts! ehehehOn that note, now, I think this is a great thought, I'm with you on that Hannah!I think Absolut should create a communion vodka/wine and call it Absolut Truth. Now that is Jesus turning water into funk.
Have I become such a cynical paranoid distrustful person who always has her guard up?? I come home and I discovered a little brown and red box sitting in the middle of my doorstep. I pick it up and open it outside, afraid of opening it in my flat; those years of reading and watching Asian ghost stories, fearful that the box might hold some toyol or spirit. I discover little balls of chocolate in the box. So much for ghosts. I hesitate to eat them, harbouring the worst thoughts in the world. What if there is a spell on it, and it's some sorta love spell, or whatever? Or some voodoo thing? I look inside for a note. Nothing. I am not going to eat some chocolates some mysterious person left at my doorstep. It's not because I'm scared of spells or drugs or laxatives or getting fat (HA!). It's just the principle behind the whole matter. I'm not going to accept something unless I know who it's from. Am I being too principled here? Can one ever be too principled?If it was just some normal girl-next-door she'd be all excited bout having a secret admirer, no? All excited at the thought of some mysterious person who's willing to buy gifts for her? Well, I'm not built like that. I don't like such games. Some people would say it's a really sweet gesture. Well, yes. If they had left a note stating who it's from. I don't like people playing mind games with me. Is that too cynical of me?? So, I gather from this post, that I'm paranoid, distrustful, and cynical. What a sad combination, no?Well, whoever it is, s/he has lots of time on hand and sure is generous. Only two stores in Melbourne, and it's authentic Spanish chocolate. Hunh. How about that? But hey, one white, two milk, and one dark. Obviously doesn't know me very well. Dark is my favourite, and I never touch white chocolate. *smug grin* Enough of this sleuthing, it's bed time. It's a shame to let such good chocolate go to waste. But hey, this is a test of my principles. The means do justify the end.
Friday, February 09, 2007
"Go Daphne! It's your Birthday! It's for real-real, let's go play-play!!!!!"Yeap, and I'm another year older. It feels good, waking up for the first time in a foreign country on my birthday. It's my birthday, I'm all alone in this country, in this city, in my quaint messy little flat. It's a milestone for me. Life's telling me I can be independent, and it's quelling my doubts, fears and insecurities.Someone once told me about the 7 year cycle. Every 7 years we change. Our mindsets switch, we reach a new level of maturity (or immaturity, for some), and we see things with the touch of a added light in a different perspective. I reckon that's true. I've been feeling something churning inside me these past few months, and I was never certain of what it was or what it meant or why it was there. Was at a friend's place last night, and when I realised it was after midnight, it felt good. I felt a certain sense of calmness within me. As if something that had been constantly churning had settled. I'm a little uncertain about this party tonight, for many reasons:1. I only sent out text message invites last night.2. Wasn't sure if all the texts got through, but hey, it's the thought that counts.3. My flat is tiny.4. I've no idea how many people are turning up.5. My flat's a mess and I haven't unpacked.6. It's more like a lil get together over drinks and chilling, I hope noone expects loud blasting music with a dance floor, otherwise, they're gonna be reallllllllly disappointed. It's like a grown-up party, what more can I say? I'm 23, almost adult now hehehehe7. What if we make too much noise and the neighbours complain?To be honest, I'd be glad if only a handful of people turn up, the tiny handful that're the ones who really care, and who're here because they're happy for me, and not simply cuz it's a party, and there's always an excuse to go to a party, regardless of what or who it's for.So Ismail rang me up last night, circa 12am Singapore time. I know your question, and I'm gonna answer it now. No, I have no idea what the deal between us is. Ever since I got back, ever since the hot male steward who flirted with me on the plane, (Yes, I can still remember him, face and all, which is a big deal to me, cuz I'm terrible with faces) I've sort of lost interest in guys. Not in a Oh-my-God-I'm-turning-lesbian-way, but in a no-one's-grabbing-my-interest sorta way. It's odd, I've never experienced this nonchalance towards guys before. Maybe I've turned my eyes towards tall dark Asian guys now. And those are a rare breed, aren't they? Maybe I'm looking for husband material now. Maybe after my brief stab at a proper relationship I've come to a point where I want something real and tangible, not merely some brief passing by of ships in the night. Whatever it is, I've just got to stick by my guns, and constantly remind myself what I'm standing for.Right, 8 hrs to unpack, tidy up, shower, go to the supermarket, get dolled up, and wait for the guests to arrive. Go Daphne!Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time
I feel alive and the world turning inside out Yeah!
And floating around in ecstasy
So don't stop me now don't stop me
'Cause I'm having a good time having a good time
I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity
I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva
I'm gonna go go go
There's no stopping me
Don't stop me now I'm having such a good time
I'm having a ball don't stop me now
If you wanna have a good time just give me a call
Don't stop me now ('cause I'm havin' a good time)
Don't stop me now (yes I'm havin' a good time)
I don't want to stop at all
I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars
On a collision course
I am a satellite I'm out of control
I am a sex machine ready to reload
Like an atom bomb about to
Oh oh oh oh oh explode
I'm burning through the sky Yeah!
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm travelling at the speed of light
I wanna make a supersonic woman of ME!!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Wednesday 31st January 2007 It's 12am on the plane, and I'm sleepy and I want to doze off; something I haven't experienced in ages. My lids are heavy: with sleep? memories? expectation? or nostalgia?My usual routine: I watch a drama, then a comedy, and then some light short TV sitcoms. But this time round it's different. I devour the sitcoms, and while I do, I'm trying so hard to keep my eyes peeled. Am I getting old? Have I changed? I feel like a different person. The past few weeks have been an experience, enriching, yet surreal at the same time. I like that I've been put out of my comfort zone, yet at the same time, I catch quickly onto some new form of assurance in this unfamiliarity. I feel as if I've changed; grown, maybe? I like to believe I have. It's comforting, and somewhat delusional.Back to the first thought that triggered my need to write: It's 12am on the plane, and I was watching Frasier, and I'm missing Ismail's arms around me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not missing Ismail per se, I'm merely reminiscing on the times we spent together, and the familiarity of his touch; his presence. And the knowledge that I might not find another man's sweetness in a similar manner, in possibly an indefinite time, fills me with a bittersweetness. I now know what Shakespeare meant when he wrote 'Parting is such sweet sorrow'. Maybe I don't miss Ismail per se now, but I might come to miss him through the tenderness of our shared memories. He did, afterall, show me tenderness and sweetness that I hadn't been shown before, albeit in an inconsistent manner. (snide snigger) Ironically, as I'm writing this, I'm exchanging polite (plus something more?) smiles with the cute (Malay, HA I sense a trend growing) steward.I wish...that I could be a satellite orbiting the world.that I was a mayfly, basking in the glory of one sweet day.I was a Maserati Spyder enjoying my own purrings and claiming the street as my own.
Into the woods we go. Don't we darling? Into the woods to find our way, fulfill a destiny, seek a solution.I should get some sleep.Karaoke was good. My best 2 mates and I all lost our karaoke virginity to some dodge-but-totally-kosher place in our hood. Wicked.I want a Milo dinosaur.I shudder to realise I might just turn out to be one of those so-sweet-I-could-vomit couples propagating the streets of Singapore. I may be a tough I-dun-need-no-goddam-Hello-Kitty-loving-man basher, but peel that aside, and I just want someone to hold me and cuddle me when I'm not in the best of moods, and to let me share my overwhelming enthusiasm.Bogge, you may be looking for Jesus, I think I'm looking for my Captain Von Trapp; someone who's tough, yet filled with tenderness. Like fried ice cream.31st Jan 20070046hrs Singapore0346hrs Melbourne
(How funny, just as I'm torn about my thoughts and inner feelings, I'm unsure of what time zone I'm actually in. That ol' Murphy's got a sense of humour eh? He and Life are in cahoots, these cads.)
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Thursday 1st February 2007 3pm
Never thought I'd say this.
I miss Singapore.
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Thursday 1st February 2007 1837hrs
Funny how it takes me 3years to come to the realization that I like Singapore. I wish I was back there, chilling with my mates, going to rehearsals, mucking around with my family. I've never missed Singapore as much as I do now. Why is that? Is it because I know my friends are back in Singapore? Cuz I've realized how old my parents are getting, and the responsibilities I carry when I go back? Suddenly I don't harbour any thoughts of staying on in Melbourne after I finish. Will I be singing a different tune after in 9months? in a month? or a week? I wish I knew for certain what I want. I wish I could get rid of that age old yearning of mine, for someone to hold met and cuddle me and tell me everything's gonna be fine and that he'll be there for me wherever I go. Somehow it's been rekindled lately, and with more strength. So it's true, when you've had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you want more.
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Monday 5th February 2007 1355hrs
I think I'm jaded. I don't care how self-indulgent this is. Like seriously, stop throwing annoying people at me. I don't care if it's just me who finds them annoying. For once, for fucking once. Chuck me someone who'll solve all my technological glitches, won't you? Enough with empty promises and saccharine sweet talk. If you're not going to solve my problem, Fuck off.
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Wednesday 7th February 2007 2305hrs
Right, so I just spent the past hour typing in my previous few neglected entries, no thanks to Mr I-work-whenever-I-like internet. The past two days have been nothing short of amazing. Learning new and exciting skills and methods of approaching a play. Feels good, I must say.
For the life of me, I cannot fathom my internet. Suddenly, miraculously, it's working. Except for the crazy keyboard, everything seems ace. Just as men will never understand women, I will never understand technology.
It feels good to be back in action, back on stage, rehearsing and exploring. It's been a while. I'm so intimidated by the immensity and intensity that this year is going to take on. Will I be able to handle it? Will I be able to put in my all and empty myself on the rehearsal floor this year? I need to prove to myself that I am capable. I need to show it to myself that I can do this. I need affirmation from someone I respect and look up to theatrically. I need proof to show to the doubtful people in Singapore that I can do it. I CAN make it.
Okie, this is a totally unrelated issue, but those of you who have been attentive, and those of you whom I've been whinging to lately about my laptop, something fucking weird just happened. The keyboard just suddenly started working properly. So now my laptop is good as gold. WHAT THE FUCK??!?~!?~?!?~! What the hell is going on with my laptop??!~?! It literally started working while I was in the middle of typing. Not that I'm not glad, no, I'm hopping off my socks with elation, but it's just too. fucking. weird. I'm gonna cross my fingers and pray it doesn't happen again. Or I'm calling the cops. FUCK! This is some weirdass shit technology going on. See why I say Technology is my kryptonite?
Back to the main issue, three consecutive full days of rehearsal, I like it, it's intense. Yet at the same time, it's like nothing I've ever endeavoured to do before. I'm excited yet scared shitless by it. I fear that I might start procrastinating. Again. As it stands, we're supposed to learn 10 lines a day; it's the second day of rehearsals, and I'm here sitting on my ass, and my learned lines counter stands at zero. Am I prepared to change my lifestyle, give it 120% for the rest of the year? The flesh is willing but the spirit is weak.
And you know what else? Methinks the lady protests too much. Get off your stinking ass and get cracking Daphne! Off you pop!
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