Surely not all students feel like this?

It's 3:09 in the afternoon. I am sitting in a studio with two other people who are, I suppose, working on their end of semester acting pieces.
I should do, but clearly I am not.

The afternoon is ours to work with- whether to work on the movement piece or the voice piece or the acting piece, it is entirely up to us. My afternoon started almost an hour ago. To say I've been faffing about would make it sound like I have done nothing. And in regards to work that I actually am supposed to be doing, I haven't, to be quite honest. Instead I started searching.
Maxinne on my lap, and the lights completely off, I have sat, mug of green tea by my side, and searched and looked for things that I want, things that I think I might need, places I think I'm supposed to be in because...
Because some part of me doesn't think I'm supposed to be here.
I wonder if I've been selling myself short, if, like my mother said I might, I am failing to give myself the chance to flourish here, and under these circumstances.

There are things that work for me here.
And, a lot of the time, when I think about what is to come I am excited. Beijing Opera next term, for one. Not that it's been a lifelong dream to learn Beijing Opera but simply that it will be interesting. As will be the harsh hand of Madam Lee. Already my body is remembering what it felt like to be in Chinese classes, but let's not go there just yet. I am afraid, you know. I am. But I am also excited about it because language might make it just a touch easier for me. Not that Kutiyattam wasn't, fortunately for us, our guru spoke English while Madam Lee will speak none.
Maybe it is that childish part of me that figures I might understand just a little bit more. But mostly I am excited because I've never been particularly culturally rooted in the least, and here is something I get to explore.

There will also be psycho-physical training towards the end of the year, and classes on dramaturgy which is what I am most keen on.

Don't you see? There are things that I am looking forward to. So much in the school that I am keen on, that I think I will only benefit from.
But Charis, the Charis who is the lego block that cannot transform quick enough from car to helicopter to dragon, is feeling the ache where bits of myself have been haphazardly lopped off in an effort to make me fit. And I won't say they've been sawed off, no- that implies an amount of time and effort dedicated to pulling an instrument back and forth, applying different amounts of pressure and force, which is most certainly not the case here.

I don't know if I can do it, but I want to stay the year, I do.

We are made up of a collection of choices, and every choice will have a consequence. Yes, sure, there is a whole lot waiting for me right outside. It's sitting on the edges of this construct and waiting, begging me almost, to come back to it. And I want to, oh believe me, I want to. And yet I am shackled to the thought of, but what happens when all of that runs out? What happens when my children are heading to University and half the century that is my life has gone by, and I don't know how much I can afford for them?
At the same time, you've either got it, or you don't right? If this isn't for me, no matter how hard I work, I won't be able to get as far as those who work just as hard but simply "have it".
Or maybe I'll get better as I go along. And getting better doesn't mean sitting here for the next three years.

You know, I keep trying to tell myself that three years is nothing, and will be nothing in the grander scheme of things, in comparison to the rest of my life and the years I will spend working.

But this is the thought I woke up with today:
If a car came hurtling toward me and left me for dead, would I be okay with leaving?

They always say that you reap the seeds you sow. And so, sow healthy lovely seeds, tend to them everyday, piling on just the right amount of fertilizer, of water, or sun. And then, when the time is right, you will harvest much.
But what if I never got to my time of harvest?
If I didn't get to my end point, I'd like to know that I was well on my way.
And technically speaking, yes I am now, just in this more formal setting.

I used to think, not too long ago, that if it was time for me to go, it'd be a huge shame but, even if I hadn't gotten to the full set up of my school and company, and didn't have my amazing children, and hadn't yet gotten an off-broadway project that I was working on, I was well on my way there.
And yes, this is supposed to be part of it, it is, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it. Well most times. And most times I just feel sad and find myself thinking about the next step, the next step, the next step.

And now I'm thinking,
if a car came hurtling toward me and left me for dead, I want to know that I tried my damnedest to get to a place I had in mind, even if I was taking a longer route, instead of knowing full well, that I'd woken up that morning wishing for that car to come at me.

Note to self

The more you learn about what you don't know, the more you realize what you don't know.

I don't understand what this means. I don't understand why I am here, looking, searching. I sit, excited about so much, so much, so much more.

But my problem is that I cannot sit still now, here. I am reaching for more.

I'm always reaching for more but people tell me I'm not reaching enough and I-

I don't understand this, or what it means.

I was in a place that I loved, that I wanted to be. That I wanted to be for the rest of my life, more or less, until the next thing would take me.

And what I did was that I tried-

Leapt off this platform onto another one that was supposed to bring me closer to where I wanted to be. But wasn't I there already?

Then, then while on this platform I see another. And it's not richer or greener, but it's different and new and will help me in the long run. I want to hear and learn and fill, but I can't because I can't stay still. I'm on this moving, tilting platform, dodging bullets, hanging on to corners as it flips over and over, and I know I'll be better for it eventually. I know The Next Platform, will say, "You've passed that one, come over here now."

And that platform's supposed to bring me closer to where I wanted to be.

But,

wasn't I there already?

I don't want to pick what's easier, what's simpler. Believe me, I will never settle for less.

But I, I wasn't settling was I? I wasn't telling myself to stay because there was no where else left to go and nothing else left to do.

I loved my life as much as I was in love with it.

It felt like I was there already.

And when I go back, I will be in a better place- I know this. And maybe then I'll find I can sit still longer. Maybe then I can say, "Well I did this one thing, and came back to a fuller, richer version of my life."

So stay, Charis. As long as you can.

It won't makes sense to leave too early.

rocky roads

Jessica Savitch once said, "No matter how many goals you have achieved, you must set your sights on a higher one."

And to this, I say, No. No you don't.

I have spent too long finding that no matter how hard you push yourself, no matter how far you have come, there is still more that you can do. There is still that much better you can be. There is still so much that you haven't achieved yet. There is still so much space between you and being enough.

I'm sure she didn't mean to say don't acknowledge your achievements. In fact, I'm sure lots of people who live by this rule don't mean to say you haven't come a long way. But constantly reaching for higher goals is not going to make one happy, not when you spend so little time being glad at what you've done and what you've got.

There's a huge difference between being unmotivated and satisfied, a huge difference between being content and settling for less. At the end of the day, isn't it about what makes you happy?

If you're not happy where you are, whether in terms of career or social life or weight, then figure out why and then do something about it. But also, learn to stop for a minute and take it all in.

It's funny, what a fine balance it is.

I guess coming from where I do, it's just painful knowing how many there are out there who hinge their self worth on their success or lack thereof.

Yea, yeah, I get it. Keep your head up, your eyes on the goal, keep pushing for more. But some people get all the way there and find they want to backtrack. Or they get all the way there and find that there's no where else to go. And what happens then? Do you stop and feel sad and unmotivated?

Sure, I mean, there's always that bit more you could've done. Always. But if it's something one lives by, I just think you end up going through life not being quite satisfied with what you have. And that's almost as bad as not being satisfied and being highly unmotivated to do anything about it.

I'm tired, mostly. Of this constant feeling like, even if you set yourself realistic finishing lines, there's always one more coming up that you could reach.

I liken all of this to my running-

I don't have a specific stop point, whether in time or in distance. In fact, to be honest, because I hardly use a jogging track, I don't bloody know how far I've run. My only gauge is time.

Whenever I say, "This is a fifteen minute run," I find that I hang on to that, resenting my run and just looking forward to the end point. And I either collapse inches away from that end point or I am cruel and say, "A little bit more. Right up to that pillar, that tree, that fire hydrant."

But on days that I have time and just say, "I'm going for a run" with no beginning or end point, I run longer, farther, sometimes faster. And I am happy.

I think that counts for more- whether that run turns out fifteen minutes or fifty. Because I didn't build myself up to let myself down. I just did what I felt like.

And a lot of times, that's actually okay.

Christmas Wishlist 2011

This year, I discovered the joy of giving people shopping vouchers. Because it's safe and functional and really, really helpful! At the same time of course, upon further discussion with Bird, I realized that, even though one doesn't mean it to be, it miiiight come across insincere.

Oh Christmas.

I mean, I really love it. And I love buying presents for people, and picking it out and picking out the perfectest gift. But it almost feels like I've got a deadline! And then people ask, "Well what do you want for Christmas?" And there are things that I want but that are a)too pricey and I wouldn't (honest, swear to God) want someone to get it for me or b) it would be something that I'd like to pick up by myself/for myself. Because, I don't really need anything, y'know what I mean?

But anyway, to make lives easier!

If you'd much prefer to get me something that you know I'd want and would use, here's a list:

1)A quilt cover set-

I got my single-sized quilt from Ikea and haven't checked if Metro has any quilt-covers but I know Ikea has a couple that I like. I've got one set in shades of red and one in black and grey.

I like darker, deeper colours or just plain white with texture. I'm not a fan of flowers or lots of patterns (despite some being quite cute).

2)There's a new scent from Burberry that I've been eyeing called Burberry Body.

But this is one of those presents I'd very much rather people NOT buy for me. Honestly, please.

3) I really like notebooks with blank pages. I'm not kidding, I really do. You can keep them forever and draw and write and paste things and. I like notebooks with blank pages(:

4) Books!

You can never go wrong with good literature, right? I've actually got all the Jodi Picoult books I want, so it's probably not safe to get me any of hers.

But

-books on Theatre or acting- Meisner or Chekhov or Stanisvlasky's are all welcome. Plays that you've read that you think I might like. Plays by Samuel Beckett or Harold Pinter, because I haven't actually read through any of their stuff from end to end (except for Beckett's Play).

-poetry. Collections of poems, things that are a little bit off-beat. I saw a children's book the other day that I quite liked, with a collection of poems. I forgot the title though, so I'm not very helpful right now.

- I'm in love with the Guess How Much I Love You collection- but then, I've already gotten the book I like the most. Which is Guess How Much I Love You.

So.

5) If you wanted to be more practical you could get me film for my polaroid camera. I use the creditcard sized ones that are the most common(:

6) Failing all, you could always just get me vouchers. For like Ikea (since I've just moved into this new place) or bookshops or shoe shops or places with clothes you think I'd like. I think it's really practical and nice.

Or wine. You can't go wrong with that. I'm a fan of Moscatos and Late Harvests and Medium-bodied reds with a mix of sweet and fruity flavours(:

I hope this is enough. I can't think of any more.

I'd really like to know what my friends want for Christmas though. I will go troll the internet and hope they've mistakenly left bits of information about themselves lying about.

Empty Chairs

I've never needed an audience to speak, never needed readers to write. I've done whichever I feel like, when I feel like it. Honestly, I don't see why one should bother speaking if no one's listening (that is of course, not to say that you shouldn't speak just because no one's listening.) I think of recent, I've just found myself more inclined to sit outside an office that's holding a debrief I should be involved in. Or excusing myself to cuddle up with Wallaby Joe. Or even just sitting quietly behind the rows and rows of stables where no one can find me.

I feel like sitting by myself for a bit.

My point?
I've always felt most comfortable in empty dance studios, with the curtains drawn and empty theatres with the lights down.
I've always written, where I couldn't speak, and written, so that I could.
I was once told last year that it felt like I was exclusive- like I wrote so much that I didn't talk about these things that mattered.
But let's face it, people have lives to live and other things to talk about. Things they'd like opinions on, or a listening ear for. Things that matter.

"Are you going to be okay?" You asked. Well I wasn't really not okay. But to honestly answer your question, yes. Yes I'll be okay, and I wanted to say that.
Yes, I'll be okay, because when I'm not, I'll get over it or around it or sit in it until I am okay.
Yes, I'll be okay, because I can still hold on to my writings, and me.

I don't need to talk out loud about mindless things like how my nightmare stayed inside my bones even after I woke up, rattling about inside me as I walked about from place to place. And how it hurt as it rattled about, come to think of it. How I was scared, and am still scared to fall asleep again and find myself back there. How I cried so much in that nightmare that I'm sure I woke up to find my eyes brimming, but that despite having been bawling, my pillow wasn't soaked yet.
Or how I woke up dreaming I was falling into space and how I was sure it was a ride, but it wasn't, but maybe it was. And what I was most concerned about was if I'd left anything behind in the seats.

Or how today, something happened with one of the boys that stilled my insides and made me draw in a huge breath. That made me cry at dinner as I talked about it. That's left me thinking about it all day, making me more frustrated at the environment around it- because no one caught that or could hold onto that, in that moment. And I am wrapping myself around it, keeping it here and trying to hold on to it with the weight of me.
How I thought it was one of the most beautiful moments I'd ever found myself in. And how it rang with such truth that it felt like silver falling to sand and still making a sound.

Because here I am, with my words. And all my sappy little feelings. And my soul, here. And it's okay that I am here, with my words. In this space and/or spaces of the like- physical and non-physical pages.

I used to be quite silly. I used to go on and on and on about the most weightless things that my significant others cared nought for. And then I stopped and wrote more.
And then, there was you.
And often times I am confused- because, to be quite frank, there's hardly time these days to talk about, well, all these little things that like to find themselves fluttering about in my head. There's a lot of other things that are going on.
It's not that I wouldn't like to talk to you love, on the contrary, I'd very much love to, on days you felt like listening to my incessant ramblings.
I love talking with you. I'd love to talk with you.

But those days that I get to, until they come back, yes ma chérie, yes I'll be okay.
Because I've got pen and paper.
And I've got these empty chairs.

Carrots, sticks and the grey bits in between.

You can't lie to a horse. In that same respect, a horse doesn't lie to you.
Children don't lie either. They don't start off lying. Babies don't cry for the sake of crying, they cry because they need something. Somewhere along the way though, they do start. They find words that can or might mean other things, they pick up from whatever is around them, and they learn. They learn to lie.
And they learn to lie, from adults.

That's why people like good theatre. Because it's easier to watch someone else be honest in a "controlled environment" than be honest yourself, back in the real world. And we all know good actors don't lie. They aren't lying, they're being. They're letting things affect them as it happens, moment to moment. Also, you can't lie to your audience. You don't have to be in the industry to be able to see whether or not the person on stage/on film is really doing or thinking something.

I'm annoyed today. I am annoyed and drained out and empty. That's what I am, empty. Or bordering on.
Because I feel like I am suffocating, choking on everybody's empty words. Watching sticks being dangled in front of children like carrots. Except they're not. They're sticks. They are fucking sticks, okay?

And it feels like everywhere I turn, full grown adults are lying and blatantly teaching children to do the same. They're coaxing, baiting- instead of embedding seeds of thought, what they're doing is planting key words pulled straight from a textbook. Hoping, hoping, hoping, that these key words will come up, will resurface, will be used so that they can say, "Ah ha! Look at the work I've done."
I wish these people would see, that there are so many who are ready to learn. Who are sitting there, open to you, trusting you to bring them to a different place. And no, it might not be all of them; it might be the bare minimum out of the group. But those who do, want to so badly. They want to so much that they look into themselves, and they're searching and they're trying to find their words when all you want to do is give them multiple choice and cloze passages.

I turn around, and the ones who are fronting are the adults. The ones who don't trust themselves are the adults. The ones who don't trust each other are the adults. And you, you are allowed to guide these children?!
And I'm not even talking about any one person in particular here, I'm talking about an entire team. I'm talking about us.
You, we, can keep lying, but the only one buying it is ourselves.

Christ, everywhere I fucking turn, it's wave after wave of half-lies, economical truths, empty promises, meaningless words. Shut up for two seconds. Just shut the fuck up, and stop saying things if you feel like you need to say something other than what you mean.
I'm not saying I don't lie, deliberately or otherwise. I'm not saying I don't front sometimes. We all do because we're conditioned like that. And really, honestly, we're scared.
So then, we find an environment where we can break ourselves open. And in this same space, because we can, we can bring people to that same sanctuary.
So that for just a little while, there is escape from the masquerade of everyday life.
So that for just a while, you can be honest and not be wrong.
So that, for just a while, you are allowed to be no one else, other than yourself.
Here's the catch-
You can't bring someone somewhere you've never been. You can discover it together, but you can't lead and guide someone to truth that you have never known.
In other words, you need to be honest with yourself and where you've been and therefore, where you can take people.

There's a difference between a carrot and a stick. And oh, believe me, I have been fifteen and had sticks dangled in front of me. And at fifteen I was fully capable of telling the difference between a carrot and a stick.
But I'm not about to play fetch with you because honey,
I am not your bitch.

34 minutes into the weekend

My eyes are swollen.

I have swollen eyes.

Jesus, that's brilliant. Oh but you know what, I'll get to spend the next five days hiding them behind huge shades anyway. So I guess that's cool.

Well well well, I must say,

what a week this has been!

I found old writings, for one. And found myself, mentally, in not too good a place.

But hey, what the hell, I still ate, didn't (couldn't) run too much because running on Tuesday gave me really bad blisters, AND, like the world wasn't already being difficult, I cancelled Yoga on Wednesday.

Well, okay, I know I went and did that myself because there was something more important, but I looked forward to it for the last week.

I was also really happy about a lot of things this week.

There were a couple of things, and the start of the week that had me fretting a bit, but it turned out okay. Things turned out okay. And for the most part this week, I've been happy as a clam.

Then today.

It started off fine. I swapped tuition to earlier this week because it's the last night before a long weekend away and I'm sappy like that.

I really looked forward to it.

The audition, it was only alright. But I really looked forward to after. Then I think I went and ruined it.

Well, it wasn't altogether ruined, but then, it just sorta ended up getting worse because I don't give the best responses.

And here we are.

No, correction.

Here I am.

There are a couple of things I've realized about myself, having been in my fair share of relationships-

1) I never give the right responses. I'm either being too defensive, or not taking the other person into consideration, or not being right, or something.

2) I don't get over things quick enough. My timings, our timings, they never seem to match up.

Of course, it's an entirely different thing when I face the other, shaking, crumbling, breaking apart at the seams and on the verge of collapse, feeling like I was as good as dead moments ago and he has no idea what I'm talking about. But then, sometimes, people are just like that.

There are a few others.

But, I have to leave for the airport in a couple of hours. Like literally, a couple of hours, and I'm not packed yet.

First World Pains.

My eyes are puffy and I want to curl into a ball and keep crying. Also, I want to sleep.

Also, I must remember to pack my razors.

Well, I must remember a lot of things because I don't actually have anything in my weekend bag. Yet.

OH LOOK.

I just found that I've broken out into rash on my thigh. This is just fantastic. It's perfect.

Happy Friday y'all, hope it's as exciting for everyone else too!

I will spend the next five days in the sun. With Portia De Rossi's Unbearable Lightness. And a Pina Colada.

I tried. I called. I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Because I am and I'm not just saying it so we can sweep it under the carpet. I wanted to say goodnight. That I hope your weekend goes fantastic. That I love you. And I'm sorry about how tonight turned out and I'm sorry that I ruined it. I called. BecauseIwantedtotellyouIwantedtohearyourvoiceonthephoneandthatI'dthinkofyouandthatIloveyou.

But mostly, I wanted to tell you that I love you

I can't keep up with your turning tables

It's June 24th.

On a Friday.

I've officially been a Freelancer (again) for my second Friday now.

It's not actually work that's stressing me out really, it's everything put together.

It's June 24th, on a Friday.

(Randomly, I was wondering why the 24th seemed to ring some kind of bell and I remembered that it's an old anniversary date. Well, not June. Just, 24ths. Back when anniversaries weren't enough and there were Monthsaries as well. Gawd.)

It's June 24th, on a Friday.

It's the first day this week, the first day since I've gotten back from Perth that I don't have to be out and about. The first day I can spend packing. And I have been. Except, it doesn't quite seem to be doing much.

Like, seriously, where the FUCK does all this crap come from?

We want to move out by month end-

Not entirely impossible, I'd say. But if my rate's anything to go by. Or well, I don't know.

Over the last four, five years, this is the third time I'm moving.

You'd think I'd have gotten used to packing lifetimes into boxes. Hah.

Well, I'm less sentimental now. I've been callously chucking things, ripping them up (it's more satisfying) and brutally hauling out things to give away. I can't be fucked anymore, quite honestly speaking. We probably wouldn't miss half the things if they accidentally got burnt up.

The rate I'm going, I'd say I stand a decent chance at moving out by Sunday.

But there's all the family things too. I don't know how to work this out best, frankly speaking.

With this lack of an outside pressure (which is good but also has its down sides), it doesn't seem likely that there'll be ONE BIG MOVING DAY where people come in and clear out our shit and like it or not, TA DAH-

We're tripping over dustbunnies and half-taped boxes in our new living room.

It's not supposed to be so difficult. And this move is supposed to be nicer, isn't it?

Because it's our place and all and yadayada.

So, a thought-

Maybe If I manage to get my shit together, I can move over first and then come back to clear and help. Because that'll = space = time = extra hands = more incentive for family to join me = less hover-about-type of pressure.

Right? Well I don't know. Just a thought.

So. It's June 24th, on a Friday.

The proposed deadline is Month end, June 30th. That's a Thursday.

Tomorrow, June 25th: I have to be up and around doing something or other for work.

Sunday, June 26th: I'm supposed to have a contractor in to lay down my plinth.

Monday, June 27th: My application for TTRP is due. Oh my God. I need to sort that out.

Tuesday, June 28th: Performance at SDC

Wednesday, June 29th: Surely, surely I've got something on because there is never any peace for the wicked.

Thursday, June 30th: Performance at SDC. Oh wait, is that the deadline for moving?

Friday, July 1st: Audition

Saturday, July 2nd: First Saturday of Term 3 for the children.

There'll likely be a meeting next week then, so that we know for sure what's happening.

So go on, go. Tell me what to do. Tell me, how I might possibly, possibly scrounge together a few minutes to make SOMETHING work.

Fucking hell I need a smoke. Okay, no. That might just be the coffee telling me that.

And then, and then the term will start.

And every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon's not mine. And possibly every Wednesday and Friday afternoon too.

And there won't be anymore Saturday mornings.

If I wanted these six months to take a break,

then why doesn't it feel like I am?

à la limite

Uh.

What.The.Fuck.

Today was just like, 'doh.

I don't even know what it was. It went too quick, then it went too slow. I couldn't catch up half the time. I had no clue what was going on.

Even right now, when I talk to The Little Creature about it, I'm still like,

"So I don't know man." I don't know what's up. All of it.

To think that last night I was thinking, "hmm. Just a half day more to the weekend." I was so psyched. Except, now I want to do Wednesday over again so that I can tweak bits of today.

I think the only thing that actually made sense the whole of today, was Mass. Never been for one on Maundy Thursday. Well, I'd never been for any until last year but yeah. Going with Erika and her family, it was nice. And I like how Aunty Vivien fills me in. Well, Erika does too most of the time, but the bits that Aunty Vivien does is nice.

I hated that we were late.

No, I'm not kidding you. I fucking hated that we were late when we wouldn't have been, when I wouldn't have been. But don't get me started on that rant now. Really.

So for that while at church, it was nice.

When everything fades into the background, when you leave your baggage behind and come to the cross.

Everything else-

I uh. will. attempt to understand it and/or give up.

Or just talk about it until it's not just me going, "HUH. WHADDAFUH." or "Hey, remember when Thursdays meant going to 7-11 after school?"

Vicky's got/is getting herself a new wing-girl.

I'm upset.

Goodnight.

I want to pretend that I have to wake up for work tomorrow morning so that something, something, will feel normal.

Something's going wrong

wrong, all wrong

Where my writing's become a crutch, where I have ceased talking when it matters (or when it should)

Isn't this exactly what happened last time?

Despite always having been able to talk to this person, you find, that when you start seeing them, when you're with them, when you're *cue scary music* in a relationship,

there are things you just can't talk about anymore.

Actually, that's a lie. You don't talk about it anymore, but you tell yourself you can't.

I don't know why that is, you know.

Are we afraid of what it might mean to the other person, of how it might be taken? Afraid of the truth that will come out when we talk about things-

of our insecurities and all our selfish sides coming out?

Like, despite knowing full well that Issue 01 isn't about me, I feel like I can't help you and I don't know what to do and so I am upset for two reasons. A) Because you have Issue 01 and B) I don't know how to make it better.

To admit that, will always sound stupid and self-absorbed. Especially as we say it out loud. And maybe that's it. That's what we don't want.

Or maybe it's just- I don't know. Admitting that despite everything, there is something wrong at all.

That there are things that make one upset, even though you don't want to be upset and even though you feel like you shouldn't be upset and even though you feel like the two of you are above and beyond whatever it is you're upset about.

Bottom line is: I'm upset/ You're upset.

But for some reason, it's easier to grab my phone and talk about it with my best friends and agree with them and say, "Yes, I know I need to go have a conversation about this." before I actually go and talk.

Or better yet, sometimes I write.

And then, once I've written all of it out, I feel better and I think,

"I'm okay!"

Problem solved, crisis averted. TA DAH. We're good as new.

And I don't stop to think that you can be together with someone and still miss out on their lives. That maybe, I am causing that to happen.

That maybe, it's not fair that I do that.

There's the running joke of how the phrase "We need to talk" is always the scariest or will probably spell out terrible news.

But it's not supposed to be like that.

It's not.

differently than any drug, that's washed me into sleep

So it's going to be a month and a half this time.

I don't exactly know what to feel about some things, and the uncertainty is sometimes unnerving.

But we always get something out of it in the end. Always.

And going through whatever it is we do/will go through adds to the person you end up becoming.

If people can collect stamps, or get a new tattoo every time they visit a new country, or collect prepaid sim-cards from around the world, or save a single item from every person they've been in a relationship with,

If people can hoard letters, or photographs, or shoes,

if people can collect memories,

then I don't see why one can't collect feelings and experiences.

Maybe doing what I do allows for this, and few would have a use to do that (collect feelings and whatnot).

It's interesting though, drawing on something real to create and/or re-create.

I wrote once, a few years back, about how impossibly riled I was because some preacher was going on and on and fucking on about marriage and the rest of it and how he'd been married for bloody long. I distinctly remember being pissed off because there wasn't much else to his marriage besides length of time. (I can't remember why but I was acutely aware of this point)

He hadn't been a druggie and an alkie, during which his wife stayed by his side and saw him through recovery. Because I know a couple like that and they've been married more than thirty years now, and THAT is something.

I'm not saying relationships need to have been through something as traumatizing as that to be worth speaking of. I'm not saying relationships NEED to have been through anything at all. And I'm not even just limiting this point to relationships.

I'm saying, having your boat rocked isn't the most fun experience in the world,

but when you get through it, it'll be something to look back at.

Maybe this is me and how I'm choosing to deal with how I feel about most things that happen.

Of course there are a million other ways that situations can turn around,

and there are plenty of other takes and perspectives. All of which are no less than the other.

But, as I always do, I write because sometimes, I need to tell myself things too.

In other words, I rant and rave on my own blog, at myself.

No Charis, not weird at all.

I don't know what's going to happen in the month and a half. I don't know how it'll feel, I don't know what to expect, I don't know how I will deal.

Sometimes, when I let myself think about it a bit more, I think I'm a bit scared of getting lost in all of it.

New experiences (bad or good) are fine if they come in reasonable doses. But most times, they don't come in bite-sized amounts.

Some time earlier this year, I wrote about appreciating things while they were instead of fretting about what will come after. Or simply, letting yourself be in that moment as opposed to thinking about how it possibly won't happen again.

Because if you don't, then you'll never get to enjoy that bit of time in its entirety.

I guess what I'm trying to say is,

I'd like to switch of my cell phone, turn off the alarms, take the music out of my ears and just sit. Because to me, that's the best way of holding on.

All the things you hold on too tightly to, the things you're afraid of not appreciating enough,

they will promise to slip right through your fingers. And they will, even as you're watching.

I wouldn't like for that to happen, not in the least.

And we've barely four days.

"Dear John,

tell me everything. Write it all down.

That way, we’ll be with each other all the time, even if we’re not with each other at all."

-- an excerpt; Nicholas Sparks, Dear John

The rebirth of Kym

I cant believe I'm crying right now. I can't, I just can't.

I hate that I work myself up to trusting something, so, so impossibly much. And I hate that it fails on me.

Oh Dear God,

I was NOT meant to live in this era!

I was supposed to be living in tree houses, swinging about and talking in animal language. I was NOT supposed to be dealing with buttons and spreadsheets and passwords and codes and things that make you trust it.

MAKE YOU BELIEVE THAT IT IS THERE TO HELP YOU and then fuck you over.

I was not meant to be living in this frikkin' era.

And I called Starhub, panicky and in tears.

To be informed that I will have a brand new phone, that everything is and will be wiped out.

That there.is.nothing.left.

Nothing.

It's fine. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

It will be okay.

Nevermind all the pictures and videos; from work, from travel, from lazy weekends.

Nevermind the messages, haven't I almost by-hearted them by now? (Oh God, the loss of these saved messages are really really painful. Ohmygawd)

The contacts will fix themselves eventually.

And I will get over the loss of my messages. OHMYWORD, THIS BIT IS SO PAINFUL!

But I will suck it up and get.over.it.

In any case,

I've been made to feel better already(:

you won't be seventeen forever,

And we can get away with this tonight

"And we tossed the wig up, and it hit the fan and got flung out the window.
We had to scoop it up from the window ledge with a dustpan, and while doing that,
Our DM walked past."

"The boys in my class don't always pick the nice smelling deodrants, sometimes the pick the stinky ones and it sucks."

"It's really sad, the boys in my class are smarter than the girls."

"Hey remember that Chem teacher we had? The one with the most bizarre eyebrows?"

I miss being younger and in school and all the stupid things that come with.
It's sort of sad, how everything I say is in the past tense and everything I hear,
is what my kids are going through right now.
Never thought I'd miss it, you know.
And it's funny. In a sad sort of way.

When I was that age, I never thought I'd find myself wishing to be that age again.
But I do.
I'm tired and worn, and although I know I had my fun,
it's one of those random periods of time that I feel ghastly old and suddenly want to run about in the carpark with my hands flailing about.

I will shut up now, and have myself a pre-dinner nap.

Live like we're dying, Mister Brightside

Personally, I don't fully agree with living like we're dying.
(Sorry Jay was making me listen to it and I've begun this rant.
On a random, minor digression-
Someone asked me about how I name my tech stuff. Well my stuff, because I don't just name the tech ones. I think it's been mentioned that naming your tech stuff is the new thing. Which is funny if you're one who's always named your stuff.
That of course includes Penny the Pillow and Barry the Bolster. Okay, not really. Ahmahgad! I am SUCH an ENFP! Digression over.)

So uh,
YES that's right-
I don't entirely believe in living like you're dying.
I think it's quite sad if life is so transient for a person, and not something you can hold on to for just long enough to smile at.
I should know, about half-lives or lives that are so transient-
I've lived like that for let's see, just about the sixteen years I've spent in Singapore.

I mean yeah, go try new shit and stuff, go jump off buildings if it gives you such a rush.
But don't keep feeling like you need to seek out things to live, or to make you feel like you're living. Because then you're always going to be trying to fill a space that just can't.

I think one should be happy.
It's simple.
I don't think one should waste time on things that tire you or annoy you.
Why meet up with that classmate who used to spit in your hair just because it's been a decade? If you don't feel like it, don't do it- that's what I say.

Take things as they come, and when it does, appreciate it.

Okay. Rant over!

In other news, my teacher's day was most lovely!
It was quite unplanned I'll admit. But then that's the fun in taking things as they come no? (Refer to above rant)
So everything after lunch was most unexpected but very nice.
Including the gorgeous amount of time I had to read.

I'm fantastically happy I've hooked up with Jodi Picoult again.
I haven't been reading in months.
And for someone's who's a bookworm and fuhreaking proud of it,
It's most uncharacteristic I must say.

But yay! Decent reading!

So I'm at Clementi Town right now.
My teacher's day present right after teacher's day?
Mock assessment.

all of me

You don't have to stay forever, I will understand.
Believe me, believe me

Sometimes,
I dissect things, chide myself for seeing too much into something, and discount some people's feelings.
Or what they say they feel.
(I just did it again didn't I? Haha)

Oh but really, I don't do it in a sad sort of way.
It's just sort of the way it is.


I've had a couple of conversations this year about not taking things personally.
I suppose I fancy myself the sort who doesn't.
Like, I figure, if you lie or give economical truths, then it's just something you felt you had to do. It's not like I can fault you for that,
It's not like anyone can.

I have a belief, that there will come someone with whom you can be completely comfortable with. Someone with whom you won't feel restless, with whom you won't second guess yourself or the other person.
Call me an idealist or whatever you like, but that's kinda why I don't think marriage is for everyone.
Sure, it takes work. Sure, it takes effort.
But the entire relationship ought to be built on something a bit steadier than time,
Or common interests, or a kid.

I mean, that's why living together sometimes makes heaps more sense than anything else, honestly speaking.
Because even when you've been living together for absolute ages, some part of you (albeit a tiny tiny bit) half wonders if there might come something that'll make you leave.
And it'll be okay to.

And marriage is supposed to be an entirely different ball game-
A flight where you get on, and chuck out the evacuation plan before the plane even takes off.

Minor digression, where was I again? -
That's right.
I think there'll come this one person with whom things just fit.
With whom you don't feel like you might still be in need/want,
With whom things just make sense.
And if you're not the exclusive sort, there will be just this one person with whom you'll want to be exclusive with.
If you're not the sort who likes doing laundry, you'll find you don't mind doing it for two.
Not because the other person changes you in any way at all,
But because it just sort of happens.
If you've never quite been the sort who believes, who takes people's word for it,
There'll be someone you can do that with.
Someone with whom you can fall asleep with, if you're not the sort who usually can.
Someone with whom you can sing with, despite being the sort who hates singing with people.

Or it might be one of those odd things about you-
Like dividing your Big Mac into half by splitting the two patties apart.
And someone out there's going to love you for that.

In the meantime though,
We fumble along.

So sometimes it might seem like I'm quite callous or unbothered,
But I think a lot of it is knowing your stand and how you feel about it.
And the rest of it, is really just taking it as it comes.

In my opinion anyway.


So.
I don't ever know if it'll be enough, most often I don't think it is.
But,
here's all of me.

So sometimes, I don't know if it's just me being stupid,
Or me being stupid.
I tend to do this some mornings, think I'm right on time when I'm not. Or want to cab it halfway so I can have a pretty second busride (like today) and then get caught in a jam and end up having to cab it the entire way,
While churning out an extra six dollars, no thanks to the most unnecessary detour.

Or sometimes, I'd bus it half way, just to realize that I've taken myself further away from the route my cabbie needed to take.

Which is most daft.
I think I've done this quite a few times this week and I am just,
Completely and utterly flummoxed by the jaw-dropping stupidity of it all.
And of all times to make stupid mistakes, could I not have done it at some time that's a tad friendlier than peak-frikkin'-hour?

Jeebus.


And now. I'm a half hour early, out a twenty and did not have myself a lovely bus ride on bus 3.
Well sod it all.

So the best that'll come of this is me trying to figure out why I'm going about doing such Godawfully stupid things.

Maybe, especially in today's case, I really wanted some me-time while on a scenic bus ride down to work.
And I think in the case of the other things, I'm stuck somewhere in between having time and having none at all. But I suppose I must accept that an unexpected extra ten minutes or even twenty, is hardly anything at all.

So there we have it-
And I have just got in and out of my own head.
What do I do about it now?

Well if I need time for me, I should take it.
It can't possibly be something on my agenda/ to do list like-
1)Submit grades for xxx secondary school
2)Take 27minute bus ride and enjoy the sights of boat quay
3) Pick up cat food along the way

It's madness.
I should have time to take my time and not freaking schedule alone time.
Like, really charis, what?!

Okay,
So now that's sorted, I will stop feeling sore about the obscene amount of money that I've spent on cabs AND
Decide early on whether or not I'll cab/bus/train it.
No more half baked bullshit for me.
Especially not when there's no such thing as being too early and in any case,
The extra time can be spent zoning out and talking to snails.

And now,
Work.

Three minutes past Friday

My eyes are unbelievably sore and
I.am.so.tired.

I said my goodnights nearly an hour ago, and yet, I'm still sitting in front of Kirsten.
Actually, honestly,
I had work to do. Kid you not.

Well, I have work to do.
Except,
I settled down for a good read, albeit online. Haven't done that in a while.


But yes, still fully aware of work that is due. And how I should, most definitely, get that sorted.
Soon.
I need it done by tomorrow morn.


God.
I am tired.


So talk about my most recent trip (which oddly enough feels both recent and far away at the same time) got me thinking about the whole getting away thing.
The swelling on my face hasn't even gone down yet. wow whee!

But yes,
getting away for a bit.

A couple of my best friends have booked their tickets to Bangkok, and I was supposed to go with. Except, what with work and all.
Then I'm looking at going later/coming back earlier. something. I don't know.
But then, that's just it.
I don't know.

I miss Bird. And I'm incredibly tempted to hop on to a weekend flight just to see her.
I feel more likely to do that than Bangkok.
Odd isn't it?


My Fridays, they always leave me reeling.
And mostly, I'm not even aware that it's the weekend. The weekends sort of just feel like an extention of my week, and I'm often left a bit dazed.
By the time it's properly sunk in that it's the weekend, it's a Sunday afternoon and my Monday's dressed and waiting for me.

I love what I do.
I do, with every bit of me.


But then, half way through my second school, my fourth class of the day,
right in the middle of class, I tasted my frikkin' throat in my mouth. It's this Godawful taste of (quite literally) my throat wearing itself out.
Then you might say,
"Well that makes you a terrible drama trainer doesn't it, if you're SO all about voice projection and such!"
But there's voice projection, and there's, being at a constant and consistently loud volume, all.the.time. And it scared me, for a bit, that funky taste in my mouth.
It's not a first.

And ugh, my throat hurts.
And I, am just a little bit,
y'know,
tired.
Just a little bit.

Physically, that is.
And we can always fix physical. And I wish I weren't so tired, especially when it doesn't feel like I've been doing very much.
But oh well. I'd best suck it up, get over it, so I can sort the rest of my shit out.

Because I will do that.

a mass of words; scribbled, screamed, regurgitated,

thought of, thought out, breathed, taken in


Often times we say certain things because it's easier;
because listening to the spaces in between words would prove more difficult.
because sometimes, there's nothing else to say.




I miss you, for instance-
I'd smile if anyone told me that, if only just a bit. And I think, more often than we'd like to admit, when you've said it to someone once, it just gets easier and easier to say it everytime.
At the end of a text, let's say,
or after you've finished an activity that didn't involve that other person.
Whether or not you really meant it is an entirely different story.


I'm not saying anyone's been lying or anything,
it's just occurred to me that sometimes people don't really mean all the things they say.

I think I figured this out a few years back. Like, I stopped myself and thought, "Wait a minute, why am I saying Miss You when I don't? Not really anyway." And then I thought for ages about a term that would more aptly describe how I felt or what was on my mind.
And I just started thinking about it again, randomly, some time this evening.
I remember Alastair went off to Perth for like three weeks or something, and well yes, I did think about him and we'd text all of twice during the day or something,
but I distinctly remember enjoying the time I had to myself.

I mean of course I thought about him, and I'm not saying I didn't miss him at all, I did. But just not like, all the time. Because I had errands to run (a lot of it was getting his christmas present sorted anyways. haha) and I liked being able to do that at my own pace, in my own space. I liked being able to do it at all.
And I remember being particularly relieved that he wasn't around because I wouldn't have been able to lie well enough about my whereabouts and then he'd just end up finding out about his own present.
So I don't know why I'd scrawl it all over the place, every chance I got. Things about missing him and just generally sounding like I could not bloody function in his absence.
It's funny, I think.

But anyhoos,
post-realization has always had me thinking about what I say or type, and being sure I don't say things just for the heck of it.

Sometimes I think if you say things a tad too often, its meaning somewhat diminishes,
or is less so of what it is, if you see what I mean.
And I Miss Yous are very overused I find, which is kind of sad.
But then, so are I Love Yous.
Especially once you've gotten past the initial "Omg, I'm using the word Love."

I think it's a bit of a shame really,
That sometimes people get so used to saying things, or it slips out so thoughtlessly, becoming a replacement for "Goodnight" or "Goodbye" or just other simpler words/phrases that don't mean any less.
I wouldn't like to do that, I wouldn't.


Talk is cheap, we all know that.
But I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, there're things one can say (and truly mean) that'll have another believing.
Because ILoveYous and IMissYous weren't meant for decorative purposes you know.




On the other hand, sometimes you can mean what you say with every bit of you
and then hide behind the screen of overused, i'm-just-saying-this-cos-there's-nothing-else-to-say phrases and words.
Because sometimes that's a little bit easier than feeling like you're out in public when you've forgotten to put on your knickers under that super flowy dress.

the things you hold on too tight to,

they will promise to slip right through your fingers.




I've never understood why some people feel that their lives are all about holding on as tight as they possibly can to all the good things they have, and never letting go.

It's a lie, I say, a lie from the media!
They make people believe that if you don't capture whatever good thing you have going for you, stuff it under your shirt and weigh it down with the weight of yourself,
then it will disappear. That good thing you have going; your job, your relationship with your children, the person who actually did call back the next morning, it will run away and you will feel lost and empty for the rest of your life.


Meh.

I think people need to get used to the idea that nothing will stay put for too long.
Instead of drawing up elaborate plans of how to shackle this good thing to your ankle forever, just sit around and appreciate for Chrissakes.

Maybe that's what my grouse is.
That some people can't seem to appreciate.
Thinking about how someone else is so much more fortunate because they get to live in your favourite chocolate shop while you can only come in on weekends, is not appreciating the time you actually get to spend in the chocolate shop.

We always believe we deserve so much more.
We don't, not really. Hell, we don't even deserve half the nice things that happen to us.

So I think sometimes we need to learn to shut the fuck up,
sit back, breatheand just enjoy it for as long as you get to.

I am annoyed and irritated.

Because I was dying to go for Muay Thai today.
Because I was desperate in a way that made me feel like I might collapse from the sheer lack of Muay Thai.
Because I've been away from it for more than a week and I promise you, it feels more physically annoying than not having sex for more than a week.

It is madness.

But there are things to do today, and things that I find difficult to work around. And right now, I cannot, I cannot work around it.
I wanted to make myself better by going for a swim, but then I have to rush around and do other things of higher priority and importance but which does not, give me a nice tan.

On top of that, I need to take a dump.
But I'm off coffee and smokes and can't seem to take a freaking dump.
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THIS FEELS.

ughh.



Anyway, on a happier note.


Not that this picture is at all happy because we were sending him off but I couldn't find my skype pictures. WHERE ARE THEY DAMMIT.

I had a lovely chat with Justin last night which resulted in a lot of spazzing and a lot less tearing up and going "omg I wish i could talk. I feel like I'll never see you again."
I think the working mic made a world of difference. Well it wasn't the mic's fault, just msn.
Which is why I hate msn.

I'm having a splitting headache. I want to keep hopping into the shower because I love showering.

I'm having lunch with Asher.
At least I get to see a decent human being every now and then.

I am annoyed that i don't get to swim and tan.
bloody hell.