Can I just say for the record that today, I discovered the extent of how sexy intelligence can be. Mmhmm.

On an unrelated note, I realized as well that I hold the nagging ache\melancholy of love (and its lesser manifestations) like an ulcer. Which I probe with my tongue as I am wont to do to feel a sharp jab of pain, which is so much more satisfying than it just sitting there, half-existing and lingering only to be jolted at moments by an accidental snap of the teeth.

I would rather feel, and I would rather have it done purposefully.




(and holy shit, suddenly all the arrow keys on the laptop have stopped working! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS. The onset of laptop dementia, that is what. Not even the apostrophe key!)

So pretty!

As much as I sometimes fear that I have overly boyish tendencies, I'm glad to say: I STILL LIKE MY DOLLS. How's that for a burst of estrogen.

And they are not freaky looking, okay. This, is freaky but even so, in a totally awesome way:





And speaking of being all girly and sorts, I should really talk about my feelings.

Or not.

Wow.

I am kinda in shock because Alfian Saat practically just dissed/derided the value of film (and film-making) as a medium for drama and performance in his blog.

People who know me well enough would know that I practically fangirl this guy as a writer because he happens to be so terribly astute in his thoughts and writing, so this is really quite a slap in the face. Fangirlish enough to feel bad reproducing his entry here since the intention would be to uh, vehemently disagree with him but its not like I have a killer readership anyway.

And thus has ended my brief flirtation with the study of cinema. Not for me film scholarship--a necrophiliac act, the love of images repeatedly shot to perfectability--in other words, an embalment. To watch a film is to partake of a thing literally done to death--the tedious retakes, the Franskenstein crypt of the editing room, the non-existence of that which flickers on the screen. There are dead people on screen, none on the stage. Cinema does not immortalise--it mummifies. The hubris of wanting to preserve corruptible celluloid. Theatre has no such illusions. It knows it is ephemeral--no two performances are ever alike. And when I watch a video recording of a play I know something has died.

I'm just incredulous.

Of course if you wanted to compare theatre against film, and a rather partisan comparison at that, you could easily make a case that one is better than another, but that would be missing a huge point - that theatre is not film, and each serves its own purposes that is valid on its own. Yes, part of the value of theatre is in its transience and this can be very well utilized to expound on our many, many levels of our existential angst, but it doesn't mean that the 'unnatural' act of recording and therefore immortalizing a moment in time negates film of the potential to accurately express existential truth. While one can say that there are too many things that are controlled and choreographed in film that makes it less 'real', it is this extensive degree of control that makes film such a powerful medium. Where theatre may be limited by its stage and the angle in which the audience views the performance, a film director has the flexibility of camera angles to create whatever perspective desired, creating as well the emotional tone of the image. A lone figure in a wide landscape versus a close-up shot of an actor's expression. You get the idea.

And the notion of non-existence in film is ridiculous. Yeah okay, metaphysically, I get your point, lalala its only a recording of a person in a moment, and not the person itself. The image is not the thing in itself, Magritte's pipe and all that jazz. But really, if you want to take that notion further, everything we perceive is an image, including what is on stage. Seeing the actor on stage is not essentially real if you think about it, its only the image that my eyes are capturing at the given moment. And the image, according to Alfian's view, is not the real thing. Besides, who's to say what is the real manifestation anyway? Would it be the actor, simulating the character under the director's instructions and mouthing the playwright's words? Or would it be the playwright's words itself? Then what would it be, the words typed on the page? But aren't those only a recording of the writer's original thoughts? In this regard, there is hardly anything real about theatre.

And if what Alfian is so fussed about is the unnatural looping or resurrection of a moment that has ceased to exist into our present time, well. Watching a film from this perspective would be the same thing as rifling through our memories because memories are but an image of what had been. To regard memories and images as zombie manifestations of our reality is just unnecessarily morbid, I think.

Besides, if what supposedly defines the real from the un-real is the state of being ephemeral, of the mortality of the moment, is there so much of a difference between the experience of a someone who watches a film once and that of someone who watches a theatre performance?

Zomg I finally got myself a facebook.

In the sense that i meekly agreed when charmaine said she'll sign up an account for me, because I just feel too plain self-conscious doing it myself, especially since by now, Facebook is like, quite a done thing.

And its so strange lah! You know the part where you add friends that you may know, which makes me go: well, I suppose she's my friend...Because you know, what if the person sees my Friend Request and goes, what who is this person? We're not even friends!

How mortifying.

On another note, a day in the life of a person who didn't find regular work during the school vacation and so is BORED OUT OF HER MIND because the rest of her friends did or are occupied with National Slavery that is NS (oh, so clever!), I went to the museum by myself. (Which I used to do quite often actually, before I got a boyfriend and everything. Ah the days before I had a person who was more than happy to oblige my adrenaline-charged itinerary.)

Anyway, the trip to the Singapore Art Museum was quite worthwhile because they were having a photographic exhibition of Alain Fleischer that were quite cool. His style is very lo-fi and totally experimental, totally up my (current) alley. The aesthetic is dreamy and nostalgic, where the direction of the photography is decidedly more painterly than the documentarian's pixel-perfect accuracy.

The bulk of the work exhibited rests upon the idea of a capturing a picture of a picture/painting and in doing so, creating an entirely new work in terms of the picture's texture and a slight shift in focus. I like how in a certain project, he enlarged a segment of frames from a film reel, showing the point in which the movie cuts to another scene. It would make sense you know, if it was being played as a movie? But frozen in this format, you really see the schism between two images that in its original film form, would have seamlessly be processed through our heads.

And, it just looks cool man.

So enough words! On to the pictures:

Honestly, I'm kinda..ehh about how this roll turned out. Most of the shots came out too cyan and dark or my liking. Caused by the x-pro? The expired film? Then how come the last two turned out completely different? Answers, I need answers :(

(So, I might have uh, cheated a bit and Photoshopped some of these - slightly!)

holga, x-pro, expired kodak ektacolour

When I get upset, I oscillate between two reactions: a) being compulsively, OCD tidy as in straightening everything into straight rows and b) letting myself go into a inert stupor because by this point, I honestly have no idea what to do with myself anymore.

Its almost 4pm and I'm still in my pajamas, which isn't really a rare occurrence, but this time it's because I simply cannot be bothered. There are things I could have done today too, like looking for a scrap of paper with a number scribbled in pencil on it, and its a number that in a way, is some sliver of hope. But I didn't bother looking for it, because I guess I'm tired of hoping. Oh hey! A tired phrase for my tired sentiments.

So like when Matthew said to just sit in tight and although I was really cheered up by talking to him, I was really thinking: Sit in tight? What for? And he also told me not to make this the most important thing in my life, (which in retrospect, is a rather late piece of advice but thanks all the same) and I'm like, how? This kinda is. Unfortunately, this was sort of the holy grail and unfortunately, the driving force behind all the things I've been doing for the past two years. Not that it constantly thundered through my thoughts and motives, but it was always there you know? The undercurrent in the stream of consciousness and all that shit.

You know I thought the disappointment would have stung a lot more. I'm guessing I'm still in the area of denial and I suppose, am waiting for the dam to breach. Then an almighty wave, a crest of emotion!

Although this nothingness is a more apt funeral for dashed hopes. What else would describe so well its replacement?

I am pleased with myself! Why? For turning this:

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TO THIS

Painstakingly stitched the fabric on - sewing through velcro is a bitch.

The fabric is plain calico and the pattern silkscreened from a screen lying around the class with a funny pixelly design. Layered the print like 2817821793 times to get this pattern out, so pleased! Have been waiting for a suitable crafty idea to use this fabric.

Reading the papers with my mum today about some rich guy being arrested for trying to buy a kidney (of the human variety), the talk develops into how you know, I heard this rumour that Andrea D'Cruz totally didn't even want to get married to Pierre Png but because he gave her half his liver, she had to? Allegedly!

So my mum says, "But he seems quite sweet, he is quite good-looking what.."

"Well, yeah..but you know sometimes they're sweet, but also secretly annoying? And then -"

"- Yan.."

"What if, you know, she likes the manly-manly kind of guy -"

"-Yan.."

"What?"

"I think you're," and she gestures waveringly here, "I think you're kind of channeling here?"

"... NO."

Ok so I don't have that much to say already or rather, don't really want to say here. Am presently very frustrated with a few very pertinent things but I think I've vented it enough to long-suffering friends and family, SO NO MORE.

But suffice to say, I am very worried. People! Keep your fingers and toes crossed please.  

In the mean time, why not put my drawings and doodlings up right? (I have an awesome new camera, also.)

Compressed charcoal on newsprint. Not my best drawing in terms of portraiture because it hardly looks like the model but I guess this one shows quite well what my drawing style has developed into. 

A better drawing, in terms of accuracy. Look at all the Grecian muscular proportions Alphonsus! Heh. He wasn't actually nude but man, drawing in spandex bike shorts would have  totally killed it ha. 

In ballpoint, copied from a biology book. 

[ATTN: Jenn - ballpoint works a lot better than ink, if you're still reluctant to move to pencil :)]

I need to do more stuff like this.

Pencil drawing from a photo of my dad and his siblings when they were kids (obviously) for his birthday, but I still haven't given it to him!

See the white glow in the upper half of the picture? That is apparently because my camera's sensor has gone wonky! Which gives me a Good and Valid reason to hunt for a new one muahaha

Hello friends.

It is not 2:30AM, and the hunger pangs have hit! Because, as I have just realized, the only form of dinner I had was an ice cream cone from Island Creamery (yay!) and it was apple pie flavour (double yay!).

But still, hungry.

You know I never understood why people would choose to have their ice cream scoop in a cup instead of a cone. I mean, a cone is like being given extra food! Take it! You know? Cardboard on the other hand...

A line I found randomly on the internet: a woman's biggest fear is abandonment and a man's biggest fear is responsibility.

And I thought wait, that's not true - then decided maybe it was. Maybe the reason why I let things go so easily and quickly is because its a defense mechanism..can't be abandoned by things or people you've already cut yourself off from. And on the part on responsibility..maybe that's true as well. Because there was this one time I had a conversation with Syahrul (who comes from a family where both parents work) and I mentioned that I hardly intend to be a working mother which completely freaked him out. I think his exact words were along the lines of: What, I have to support the family myself??

Well that was then anyway.

I am also still scared of how quickly I let things go.

But also, by how much I want certain things.

I (well, Charmaine to be exact - although I did all the hunting!) managed to find myself a holga before I left for my trip to india, and you know a camera + foreign, colourful country = happy time!

7 rolls of film happy to be exact, which got me quite worried because what if all 7 rolls came out like crap right! haven't touched a film camera before!

So! I am totally hooked.
















and on regular 35mm film:






















right, that's enough picture-spamming for now.

I'm sad!

A few neutral shots of the INDIAN OCEAN. The weather wasn't that great, and the beach apparently not the best in Kerala but is it me, but does the water look a lot more vast than what we see in Singapore? Probably from the lack of cargo ships loitering around and the lack of people confronting the rather harsh waves.

Anyway! The next three are from the digital camera. I think some people might consider this series kinda bland and boring but I love the tan, gray and pigeon blue colour scheme. I swear, I do have the customary shots of brilliant orange sunsets and a few pictures with BURSTING colour will be out up soon! But for now, take these:





And these are from the Holga! I think I will be signing off a considerable portion of my allowance of film & developing costs because I am totally loving the softness that the Holga renders pictures. And yes, I did get pictures with the crazy colour effects and you will be seeing that soon!





 

sometimes i think i'm a really good kid, and it annoys me!

on another note, i am back from india and am trying to figure out how to post the illustrated recount of the trip on this blog. i think i will do it in non-chronological episodic segments, and then include pictures from the holga and from other friends as subsequent annex(es)? and then there are the sketches from my travel journal. seems i am more attached to coherency than i thought..

but i do miss india already.

i also miss other things and persons!

I have malay eyes
a malay nose
a malay mouth
chinese eyelashes
chinese boobs*
malay height
malay hair
and a malay bum.



*Seriously though, most malay boobs I've seen are huge. There was this girl I saw once poured into a tank top and the tops of her boobs were jiggling. Like, how is that?

I will never know.

But! Speaking of racial compartmentalization.

Do you know that it really does aggravate me seeing mainly chinese/oriental women in ads, or in articles touting asians as the next big thing in fashion and modelling?

Because then, I mentally go: O hey I'm asian but I don't look like that!

It is just a small, disquieting feeling when you supposedly don't fit into the minority group that you always had identified yourself with, because you then realize how much of a minority you are in the minority group itself. Very odd, but part and parcel.

And then there's the whole representation of female asian beauty being exemplified by tall willowy oriental girls, which sure, did a lot of good for me in my angsty, not-so-stable esteem days of being 15 years old.

Which! I suppose in retrospect, might answer why in Sec 3/4 I found myself distancing a little from Charmaine because I think being with her constantly made me feel a little uncomfortable with me being and looking different. Who knew right? Ah the uncomfortable perspective that history offers.

Not an issue now though, so don't get all up in arms. I am cool and chillin' in my own skin.

And then I suddenly realized!

I love being single.

(Well yes, despite present, possible ambiguities.)

Occurred to me when I dropped by a friend's lj and how she noted that in seeing her boy off to the NS Departure made her tear up, it really reminded me of when I went through the exact same thing some time last year.

And how it was a long, tedious affair that seemed to unnecessarily drag on, but then the day after, holy geez did I feel the loss or what. Especially because prior to that, we were of course hanging out everyday so when he was gone (for what, 2 weeks lol) I could absolutely feel the absence in my life.

It was an absence! A void! Another individual's existence affected my own mental state that much, wow.

And I am so glad that is now gone. You know how some shampoos promise you tangle-free hair?

Yeah that's me alright, tangle-free.

It is nice to be emotionally clean for once, and not have strings so firmly tied to another person where it feels like you're living the lives of two people. Oh to be guiltlessly, relatively self-centered once more!

There's a difference you know - caring very much for your close friends and family, and being in a relationship where try as you much, you somehow become more or less, a symbiotic..thing. I suppose relationships have this close proximity thing that just amplifies everything and I guess I just don't like how intense it can get sometimes. Like ease off, back away! No!

Sigh I suppose all the post-relationship* trauma is coming out of the woodwork now.

Question is: How do people get married at this rate?





*isn't that a nicer word than break-up?

I guess what I didn't want to say was that I miss you. Or even more so, what's triggering it.

4:55AM and I'm talking nonsense. I bet you still come here. You're even more nostalgic than me, and it used to annoy me incredibly! Why do you hold on to things so much, I always wanted to say that but never did. I think I know now though. Even then, pre-emptively, you knew how easily things slip away and I suppose you were always aware of the loss. Maybe that's how you saw us, always through the frame of what was. And I always let go, very often and very easily. I thought it was a virtue.

Maybe not, maybe not.







And oh, The Great Spy Experiment's Late Night Request is so much more appropriate, melody-wise at least.

Doomsday is an AMAZINGLY-RIDICULOUS movie! Yes, quite literally, in that order. Everybody should watch it, extremely high in entertainment value and value for money! All the movie genres you could ever want rolled into a single movie ticket!

It is a zombie, political satire, apocalyptic, medieval, action, punk-anarchist,
Gladiator-esque,futurist, LOTR-Middle Earth, and James Bond-ish with a car chase sequence where the car remains impossibly shiny and unscathed! Despite driving through a bus!

AMAZING.

This is not right at all of course. I downed the can of coffee at 3AM to rush my art history essay/exam, not blog. But such are the impulses at 4.54 in the morning.

And besides, I have been feeling particularly, internally verbose recently. You know the feeling - phrases and sentences emerging and floating around in my head..the kind too silly and pretentious to say out loud but from my perspective at least, have a delicacy that I want to make tangible. I have not felt this way in a long, long time, which only serves to confirm what I always feared.

And besides, I've finally succumbed to Aini's badgering for me to blog, and what is more convincing than a bag of surprisingly rich and conveniently bite-sized chocolates? And a really pretty pocket mirror! That I resolve to look at because it is so cute, but not look in because it makes me look so VAIN lah, and the magnifying mirror is also a horrifying mirror. It makes me want to run home and hide myself under a pile of SKII face masks ha! If I use them in the first place, which I don't.

Are you sure you miss this rambling Aini?

It has been a very good month.

From now on, this is the yardstick for what constitutes a good month:
- being accepted into a school that you have long considered the holy grail of art schools; whether this thing is true or not is another thing entirely so SHUSH
- a 3.1 Phillip dress as a *SURPRISE* birthday present
- a *SURPRISE* birthday present from an ex-boyfriend, and you actually, finally, really do like the present, which you makes you happy and a bit more sad.
- weekends spent with lovely, close friends, in strange places and really, just being away from school
- buzzing from the utter gratification of finding out something that is somewhat related to something I've been harbouring since i was what, 16.

I don't think another month like this is likely to come by anytime soon. It's just too good!

It does not take much to make me happy. Lying down on warm ground, facing the sky and open space, and stepping on a daytime moon! That's all it takes, really. Its this tentative, tentative feeling of new possibilities and nuances of reciprocation that make me feel at ease and filled with lightness, and maybe quiet triumph ha! I don't know where things are heading, or even if its heading anywhere at all but I don't care. Here is good.

I was going up the escalator from the City Hall MRT station towards Raffles City and it was raining. And you know, the heavy rain against the glass ceiling made the glass look like a sheath of sparkling light. Never noticed that before.

I'm still buzzing, buzzing. Things* are going so well I can't quite believe it.





*Hopefully this will include my Art History exam happening the day after tomorrow, of which I am concretely, under-prepared for. SIGH.