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 | Not for Hindus ... just kidding. Random thoughts, comments on anything that takes my fancy. Strictly a my opinion only & if you do not like, don't read, agree to disagree & go away happy. No flames, (flamers OK), request for photo/green card/webcam action etc please. |
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| Gawd-awful and Gobsmacked |
May 14, 2008 3:23 pm
Mood: Drying Me Hair, 686 Views |  | I'm not sure if it is the place or just a culmination of an extremely hectic few months but I am getting headaches more often than before.
Here I am sitting on me bed with my 'puter, waiting for my hair to dry after yet another migraine-easing hair wash and I realised it is the third time in two weeks I have had to do this.
It can mean one of two things.
One, I need to get out of here. And I have only been here for about 3 days. Which tells you a lot about how much I dislike this place.
Two, I need to ease up on my schedule. Unfortunately, that cannot happen for another few months till September when I can foreseeably head for the light at the end of the tunnel.
So that means I need to book a flight out of here by this weekend.
I can surmise how tonight's headache came about.
Women.
They give me a headache.
I had decided to give myself a break after my last class which ended earlier than normal so off I hied to my favourite oyster omelette stall. The man was not there. Patiently, I sat in a nearby coffee shop to wait.
He did not show up. I walked up and down the pavement, staring mournfully at where he would normally station his make-shift cooking site. Someone finally took pity on me and told me he was not showing up today.
Yes, my silent scream of misery reverberated throughout the cosmos. Did you not hear it?
Deeply shattered, I decided to visit a friend's cafe/bar which is my favourite place to people-watch. It is in a busy strip of bars and eateries, situated right on the turn-in and wonderfully airy and relaxed. Best of all, I have always felt that it is my little oasis from everything where no one would notice me and I can notice everyone.
So I perched myself on one of the bar stools, ordered my favourite margarita and some burgers (yes, burgers ... they are mini-burgers, alright? Roast beef, chicken teriyaki and gravlax) and plugged in my iPod to commence my early evening of Waldorf and Staedtlering.
First up were some young boys who sat next to me. One of them wore a brilliant T. It had iPoop on the front with the silhouette of a bloke sitting on the bog. Fab. I asked him where he bought it and we got into a conversation about iPods and Ts.
They left and I was still happily chomping on my burgers and wondering what else I could eat when I spotted a familiar face.
Bloke was in a white T and shorts with a sports cap pulled low over his forehead. We looked at each other and exchanged short nods of acknowledgment before looking away in determined discretion.
It was one of the kungfu stars and he positioned himself in an even more inconspicuous niche than I.
Bugger, I thought. If they start coming here, I will have to find another sanctuary. Just then I spotted my friend, who happens to be the owner of the place. He came over and we exchanged greetings and kisses.
"Oy, when the hell did the starlets start coming here? I like it here! I don't want them coming here and bringing notice and the such with them!"
He chided me, "Hey, even they need a place to be themselves and to hide away."
"I know! I know but I come here for the same reason. And if they keep coming, the rest of the madding crowd will invade too!"
"Honey, have you not noticed that there are quite a lot of you who come here? All you guys come here to hide out, pretending that you do not know each other. Married stars with their flavour of the month, secretly dating celebrities afraid of being outed ... paranoid dancers who come to escape ..."
At his meaningful glance, I gave him the finger.
I looked around. There was only the kungfu star and no one else I recognised. But then again, I do not really keep track of who's in and who's wannabe.
I decided my friend was indulging in a bit of delusions of grandeur and we chatted a bit before he had to return to work.
I sat for a while and suddenly I heard a piercing screech.
"WHF!!!! You're back in town!!!"
Everyone turned to look. I wanted to sink into my chair and wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow the strident cow up.
It was an acquaintance I met some time ago at one of those fashion shows. I remember I thought her rather pleasant but terribly vacant.
She invaded my private space with her other three girlfriends. All of whom possessed the same high-octave voices that could wake up the dead. I felt a headache coming on.
My uninvited tablemates then started on about their shopping trip to Japan just last week, simpering over their sexual conquests and fantasies and the latest gossip in Hong Kong. I was ready to expire from boredom when one of them gasped breathily,
"Waaaahh, look, look! It's Kungfu Star over there! It's him, I tell you! It's him!"
She pointed and shrieked and drew the attention of everyone around us.
Poor bloke was sitting quietly in the corner with his chickie and looked like I did a few moments ago. Like he wanted to disappear into his chair.
I whacked her arm down and made violent shhh-ing noises.
"Keep it down! The man is obviously trying to have some privacy. Give him a break!"
The 4 women started babbling whether it was him, discussing his latest gossip and then debated on whether to go up to have a chat with him.
By now, I was really wishing I was anywhere but there. If I could blush, I would have been beet-red in embarrassment and indignation.
I was loathed to even look in poor Kungfu Star's direction. When I did, he had a resigned and pissed-off look on his face. I gave him an apologetic look and hoped he did not think I was part of the she-devils' group.
He gave me a look of deep sympathy.
And left within 10 minutes before they decided to harangue him.
My headache had burgeoned into full glower. I packed up my things, made my hasty excuses and tried not to sprint away from the uncouth groupies.
Have I gotten unused to the behaviour and conversation of "normal" women? Am I so insulated in my own world of dancers, musicians, entertainers that I cannot comprehend or condone the follies of women outside of that realm?
Just recalling their shrill and vulgar behaviour is bringing back my headache.
Right, change of topic.
I shall recount a funny incident just before I left Singers. One of my uncles was driving me back in the wee hours of the morning and we were stalled by a road block.
I commented that I had noticed an increased police presence in the city in the few days I was there and questioned him about it. He was as clueless as I.
The police motioned us to stop and we did, noticing that there was a carload of young people pulled over to the side and being questioned. The policeman took a look inside the car, saw the two of us and waved us past.
I turned to my 50-something uncle and asked,
"Hey, should we be offended? They are obviously pulling over all the young people. We did not fulfill their age requirement! We're too old! Bugger! How rude!"
We giggled and then my uncle said,
"Maybe we should circle back so they can stop us this time."
"Yeah, and demand that they pull us over since we are not THAT old!"
By now we were in hysterics and continued our inane repartee all the way back to my hotel.
Right, my headache is gone now. Success.
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6 Comments | |
| The More You Know, The Less You Know |
May 14, 2008 12:25 am
Mood: At peace ... but hungry, 648 Views | I have a lot of mantras. My students know them well as I chant them over and over again. It can get tiresomely boring but I cannot help myself.
Here goes ...
Less is more.
Music comes first, dance comes second.
Leave your ego at the door.
Be true to yourself and stop trying to imitate others.
Dance for the love of it and not for fame
And the one I seem to spout the most -
The more you know, the less you know
The last becomes increasingly apparent as I get older. My preconceived notions of many things regularly receive a huge jolt, reshuffling and disgruntled readjustment when I open my eyes, ears, heart and mind.
I force myself to do this all the time. It is the only way I can see past my own ego and complacency to what really lies before me.
It is a habit born from necessity at a young age. Promises were made and seldom kept. Like the child I was, I kicked my legs and bawled, screamed and railed at the unfairness of it all, feeling immense hate and self-pity.
Then someone, usually my mother or my grandmother, would take hold of me and shake me.
Life is not fair. Get used to it.
Harsh, especially to a young child. But very true.
As I grew older, I learnt to see beyond the supposed wrong inflicted on me to see the possible reasons behind it. I am no saint. It was not to understand and forgive the "evil-doers" but to analyse the reasons and the implementation of the wrongs so I can either cut it off at the root or plot my vengeance.
Yes, I was an evil child. I did not forgive nor forget easily and my grandfather had taught me revenge is best served cold.
However, life happens and at what I thought would be my final stretch, I learnt to come to peace with myself. And from that, it enabled me to see others in a clearer and less angry light.
It's not always about you. Life does not revolve around you. You revolve around it. With many of the same hapless souls caught in the neverending cycle.
Sometimes we are cast against each other and the impact and friction cause us to spark off each other in angry flames. Other times we brush each other in gentle, velvety caresses that cause us to catch our breaths and pause in mid revolution to tangle sweetly with each other.
But in the end, we expire from this whirlwind on our own. Shedding all the debris collected during our journey. And hopefully ending the dream with some grace and dignity.
Realising that we come into the game alone and leave it the same should make us understand that the ultimate perpetrator of all things good, bad, happy or sad ... is us.
We inflict and cause whatever that happens to us upon ourselves. Things that happen can either stick or flow off us.
I have a bad habit of getting caught up in things and letting them bother me more than they should. I am human and it shows in the petty gripes, whines and irritations I experience and inspire.
Then I sit back and execute my self-imposed exercise of opening up my senses, which should include good, common sense, and really look at the issue at hand.
Often times, I realise it is all unnecessary and prideful. And I walk away from it all so I can start another leg of self-discovery.
I avoid words like enlightenment and self-actualisation as I deplore the new-age faith and spirit healings that babble like empty vessels to the willing, desperate throngs.
But I must admit that seeing the light in more ways than one has made life much more peaceful.
One of the things I see immediately is that people with a bit of knowledge are more dangerous than those who are totally ignorant.
I am one of those. I find myself having to cast all my supposed knowledge off before I can accept and adapt to new things. It is a constant struggle that I chide myself into.
This conundrum infects many dancers.
Yesterday night, I received a new student in one of my most advanced class. She had insisted on joining us despite being told it was an advanced class. Because she had 5 years of ballroom training.
I sighed when I heard that. I knew she would struggle terribly in my class.
A rank beginner would have had less problems than her.
Why?
Because a total beginner would not resist all the differences in the two dance forms. She would not impose her own supposed knowledge on top of my teachings. She would not question and would readily move when and how I tell her to.
Ballroom has many rigid structures and beliefs that will cause her to resist a new training.
And her body would be undisciplined and unused to specified, controlled isolation.
I knew it would be a painful class and sure enough I could see her struggling and panting at the end of the class. And at the start of it, she was telling me she wanted to join my class for an easy workout.
Right.
In her case, it was truly one of the more she knew, the less she knew. But her mind could not accept that concept.
Most people cannot. The pride in knowing and the process of acquiring that knowledge makes many of us unable to let go. Admitting you know nothing is something many of us have problems with.
I remember a group of ladies in China once jeered at me behind my back after a class. They told someone that I was crap because I told them during class that I knew nothing. That I was constantly learning myself and that each week, I find my knowledge challenged and overturned by the new things I learnt.
Fortunately, this person knew me well and apparently told them all off for being fools.
Being a bit of a Sinophile, I was actually rather amazed at their lack of discernment and understanding. I would have assumed that the Chinese with their ancient art of philosophy and learning, would comprehend the concept of endless learning and unlimited ignorance.
But then again I just proved my point, didn't I?
I, thinking I knew much about the Chinese culture, imposed an ideal of higher intellect and comprehension upon them. When like me, they are also eternal students. They just do not realise it yet.
For the bloggers here, much has been said and printed recently about scamming, playing, fakes and the such. Enough. Lessons learnt. Venom unleashed. Reign it all back now. Find peace within yourself.
The more you know, the less you know.
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15 Comments | |
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