Monday, May 29, 2006

lesson #002: lessons from fengshui

Today has been a day of awakenings. Let's speak of the major one first, which's got to do with d***e. D-A-N-C-E. That word that felt like a vulgar word that I've been avoiding like a plague. That word that's part of the sentence, "How's d***e?" that I've been replying with a dismissive, "Let's not talk about it."

Sheila came to watch us and clean up our steps today. It somehow felt like I was back in year 1 and being scrutinized by her for the first time. The worst thing is it felt like I hadn't changed much since way back then, and that I've even gotten worse.

During the jazz item practice, she pinpointed me multiple times. I was dancing really raw. Obviously I was sad that she could see that my arms are weak, that my posture doesn't have a centre and that I don't have control over my movements. And that my eyes wander everywhere when I dance. Everywhere but the mirror in front of me. But the thing that I hate the most is the fact that I can't say that she's wrong. I am whatever she said I am, I am all of the above. It's a sad day when you discover that you suck, but I'm not afraid to admit it. I have become... a bowl of porridge. Soft, mushy, with neither energy nor passion.

Weak arms, posture and control are all parts of technique that I have to train. But the eyes... If I'd forced myself hard enough, I could focus. Maybe. The truth is I haven't been able to look at myself dance ever since the elections and the Funka audition. I don't blame anyone but myself for both. And then, slowly but surely, I shrunk. I retreated into a coccoon that, while comfortable, started sapping my former confident self into nothingness.

I wish I'd cried when Sheila shook me. Maybe then, I could've had closure for all these pent-up emotions. As it is, it stays right here, on this blog, unseen anywhere else. But I've got to get a grip. I've let the past haunt me for too long, and it's eating up my future. I think, all along, I've been secretly wishing for somebody to slap me awake.

Tomorrow, I'm buying an iPod armstrap. The baby pink one looks nice anyway! This armstrap is a necessity because, on Wednesday, I'm gonna camp in the concourse area and practice my turning. I'm totally gonna make a fool out of myself, dancing alone. But I don't care, it has to be done. I lack the space at home and I need to practice.

Well, speaking of shopping, I did some of that today during lunch. I used up my lunch hour intending to browse the Suntec shops, but the first shop I entered was Mango and somehow I was stuck there for the rest of the hour. I tried on plenty of tops and went back to my workplace with two. One is hot red, empire cut with a ribbon to tie in front, selling at $35. It's pretty darn cute, I tell you. The other is a simple light yellow tank with leaves embroidery to be worn for work.

And did I mention the knee-length, flare dark purple skirt from Topshop which I bought last Thursday? It was on 50% discount, so I got it for $33! What a steal! And the next day, I went to buy new heels from Charles & Keith. Gary was with me and he commented that the pair looked like something a rich tai-tai would wear. Exactly the look I was going for (well not a rich tai-tai, but a rich IT girl), so I bought them.

In any case, I wore the new pair to Jess's uber pink party, the Pink Cadillac. Now that deserves an entire blog post on its own, so I'm saving the commentary and the pictures for later. What I'll do say is that my tai-tai heels are NOT walking heels. At ALL. They are not meant to be worn anywhere near a public transport, except for cabs. So an hour's train ride to Pasir Ris MRT was... well, while not exactly the IPPT that army boys go through, it's still most definitely a test of endurance.

But I digress. A lot. This post is supposed to be about awakenings, and I've told the first tale of awakening. The second and also last awakening has got to do with my room.

Basically, I kinda think that fengshui is half based on logic. My room is so messy and there's so much crap strewn across my bed that it must be bad for me. Basically, when you can't even be in charge of your clothes and all your stuff, how can you take charge of your life, how can you call yourself a good d***er (which I don't, sadly), and how can you wish to exude self-confidence? My whole room is a MESS. It's the Messiah of mess, where all sorts of mess congregate together and do whatever mess do when they meet up. Shriek hellos and airkiss, maybe.

I'm not about to rearrange my furniture (what furniture?) so as to let the wind flow in the direction or prosperity, or whatever. But I'd better clean up my bed and wardrobe so that I can at least see my bedsheet. I think once I got this spring cleaning done, I'll feel more at peace and rested when lying on my bed. And I'd be less stressed and moody (if you see mess, won't you feel kinda gross and grumpy?), and then I'd be able to concentrate more on other stuff, such as d***e.

And maybe, just in case, I should re-arrange my trash bin so that it won't be in my Money Corner. With the GSS just warmin' up, I need all the dosh I can get to save my soul from the Shopping God. (Then again, by actually shopping, won't I be selling my soul to the Shopping God? ... Hmmm. Fuck the god, I need tweed pants for work.)