Double-Deck Addict

Her.

2008-08-25T18:17:00.003+08:00

There she is.

She's on the other side.

She's smiling.

She's calling out to me.

Her smile intoxicates me as I try to move nearer.

Her voice is almost trancelike as she utters the same words over and over again.

Come here.

You'll be happier.

How human of me, always wanting more, always thinking that the grass is greener on the other side.

She's using her hands now, gesturing slightly, as if waving me closer.

Come here.

You'll be happier.

Trust me.

I yearn to believe her, I want to- I needed to.

Her smile changes as I take one more step towards her.

It becomes rigid, as if frozen.

Come here.

You'll be happier.

Trust me.

You need to.

I hear her promising voice, and they swirl around my head as I contemplate what she's saying.

I could move faster, but it seems as if I had lead weights tied to my feet.

I was bound.

By what?

I could move, but I wasn't totally free.

I had to move.

I didn't care where.

Towards me.

I'm your destination.

She beckons more wildly now, her smile almost becoming a grimace.

I try to walk.

I try to run.

And fell.

Move!

You have to keep going!

You can't turn back now!

I feel numb, sore, as if I had just finished running a marathon.

But she was right.

I couldn't go back.

I was too far gone.

I slowly get up, and righted myself to face her.

Her smile was gone.

Quickly!

You need to be here!

Why, though?

What was I running from?

I couldn't remember.

You can do better.

Prove that you can.

I was too tired to answer her angry request.

I didn't want to move.

Not anymore.

I begin to wonder why I came.

Look back.

I do.

And all I see is an endless wasteland, with nothing and no one in sight.

I turn to face her again.

I start to move once more.

But this time, it was different.

This time, it was because I had nowhere else to go.

You're almost there.

FASTER!

Her words weren't words of encouragement, I realized.

They were commands.

But she was right.

I was almost there.

I could see her more clearly now.

But I am exhausted.

You can't give up now.

Her voice, once so endearing, was now dripping with venom,

Taunting me.

I am tired.

Drained.

But I am centimetres away from her-

So I use my last ounce of energy

And reach up to touch her face-

But was met with cold, hard glass.

I looked up wearily, shocked.

She stared back.

You're here now.

Where?

And suddenly, her expression of triumph and victory fades away-

And I realize-

You've realized-

That she was-

That I was-

Her.

You.

But where do I go from here?

So many voices ringing in my ear-

Which is the voice that I was meant to hear?

How should I know?

Where should I go?

From... here?

-Pocahontas 3.

Strayed from the path.

2008-08-24T20:05:00.004+08:00

Currently listening to: High School Musical 3's Gotta Go My Own Way.

I've got to move on and be who I am

I just don't belong here, I hope you understand

We might find our place in this world someday
But at least for now

I gotta go my own way.

So much has been going on that I hardly had any time to post.

On Monday, we had a few guests from the UK who had come to perform a collaborated piece with the TKGS band.

They looked very interesting (and very tall), so I wasted no time in getting to know them.

The first person I talked to was a guy named Sam.

Sam was tall (he HAD to be 7 feet) and very tall, he wore spectacles, loved the school spaghetti, and was the senior percussionist (and apparently a really good one, according to the rave reviews from my friends who went), and he was the first guy who I could actually talk to.

It surprised me, no SHOCKED me really, to know how much of myself I had actually been holding back.

I know it sounds extremely bratty and preppy, but it seems like every Singaporean guy I meet has to treat me like Dictionary.com.

It seems almost vulgar when I think back to all the times I've had a conversation with the local guys, and the amount of time I spend filtering out the big words and sarcastic jokes to which I knew they wouldn't get.

I didn't know this then, how much MORE of myself I had, being a born-and-bred true Singaporean.

Even some of the girls were a problem. There are very few girls in my school who I can actually relate to.

I don't know what had happened along the way, the possible reasons and events that could have led me to become THE ENGLISH FREAK.

It's not like I hang out with ang mohs or travel a lot.

What happened?

At first glance, you'd probably go, "Oh, her- that Malay girl- she probably goes to Springfield Secondary and speaks 70% malay."

Then the surprised looks come in when I open my mouth.

You see, that's exactly the matter with me. I don't view the world in the same way others does, I don't see certain things Singaporeans usually do. I have nothing against Singapore, I love it, but sometimes I feel like my country has been hiding me underneath a barrage of something so much more than what I deserve.

Maybe it's not the country. Maybe it's me.

Maybe that's why I've been fighting tooth and nail to convince my mom to send me to UWC (United World College) and maybe that's why I feel so incredibly out of place in my own hometown.

After those three hours with Sam, I have realised my potential.

I know my place.

And it isn't here.

However, I can see the bleak days in front of me, the 10 more years or so I have to spend here before I can actually escape anywhere else.

It's depressing.

I feel like a prisoner who was allowed to see the light for a few minutes, then was forcefully arrested back to his hellhole.

And to think, SINGAPORE is my prison.

I've got to move on and be who I am

I just don't belong here, I hope you understand

We might find our palce in this world someday

But at least for now,

I gotta go my own way

Sam: The tallest person on the far left of both pictures.

Thank you.

2008-07-26T11:12:00.003+08:00

Currently listening to : The Script's The Man Who Can't Be Moved.

This song is so awesome, I have been inspired by it to write a play. I came across this song when I was clicking through the channels on the TV, and when I saw the title of this song I stopped to listen.

And fell in love with the video and the song.

There's something so raw and emotional about the way the band portrays the song... This is definitely a song worth checking out.

But anyway, I'm here to tell you about one of my happiest moments in life. Which took place yesterday.

I'm involved in the Drama Of History competition, and after the suspense and hard work of getting the script accepted, the unsurprising joy of getting through the semi-finals, it was finally down to us and four other schools to battle it out in the National Musuem's theatre yesterday evening.

In this competition, I act as a SIA stewardess (a.k.a The Singapore Girl) and I basically represent Singapore in the play. We had to write the script according to the theme "Effects of Mass Consumption after the war" , so we decided to make the play abstract, fragmented, non-linear, which means that the scenes don't really connect/do not flow in a proper timeline.

We decided that our message was to be able to let people see the difference between the older generation and the younger ones, (Generation M) and how materialistic Singaporeans have become.

And this is where Albert Winsemius (a Dutch economist hugely responsible for what Singapore is today) and me (Representing the new Singapore, Albert's creation) come in.

After the war, the TV and the radio advertised things such as microwaves, fridges, Popin Jay Soap, and the likes. This is where it all started, this is how Singaporeans have become the materialistic citizens of today.

And that was what we wanted to portray.

We were the first school up, and so we were allowed to watch the other schools perform. There were schools such as Raffles Institution and Woodlands and Yuan Ching, and each school had their own unique way of interpreting the theme and acting their message out.

The results were due on that day itself, so we were all let out for a tea break (which I looked forward to, partly because I hadn't eaten since 11, and it was now 4, and another was because they had eclairs- yay) whilst the judges sorted out their stuff.

I was interviewed and they asked the basic things, such as "How do you feel you did?", "What makes your play different from the rest?" and such, but their last question was, "Do you think you'll win?" To which I answered, "I'm confident we would secure a place in the top three."

My friends all groaned and covered their faces. "Hanis! How can you say such a thing! What if we lose? We're going to be so ashamed!"

I felt bad, but only for a short while. They DID ask for my opinion, after all.

Then something devastating happened. I asked Natalie how it went, and she said, "I didn't get your play."

Oh no. Oh no. Triple yikes.

I felt my confidence slide down faster than a landslide on a rainy day.
But then a girl tapped me on the back and told me, "Hey, you did great."

My landslide paused in the middle of sliding.

"Really?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah, you were good."
"Thanks," I replied, grinning. (My landslide had dried up.) "You were good too."

And then (drum roll) they told us to get back into the auditorium for the results.

My heart was crashing in my chest. Already, in my mind, I was picturing myself forcing a smile on my face to congratulate the winners.
The emcee did the usual 'You're all winners' stuff, and then she called out the consolation prizes. Surprisingly, our school's name wasn't called out.
I was already content. At least I wouldn't need to eat my words.

But the 3rd place came and went to another school. By this time, all the girls were already screaming. We were in the top 2. Wow.

The emcee then smiled and said, "So I guess it's down to a battle between the boys and the girls."
You could slice the sexual tension in the air with a knife. (No, not in THAT way)

Everyone was expecting them to say TKGS, hell- our director was already going down the aisle to receive the prize- when they said, "RI."

Even rock concerts couldn't make half the noise us girls made when we stampeded down to receive the 3000 dollars cheque and the trophy.

Everything then passed in a very, very happy blur.

I remember whispering, "Someone pinch me. I'm dreaming."

So here I am now, sitting behind the screen, with a 10 mile wide smile permanently fixed onto my face (the win yesterday must have been like, a secret Botox treatment or something) happily and jubilantly typing out TKGs's success.

The greatest thing about this is that it's not the end. We would be performing yet again, at the National Museum on the 9th of August, so be sure to catch us, yeah.

This feels good. Another nice memory for me to remember when I'm old and reminiscing.

Drama

2008-07-17T17:33:00.003+08:00

Currently listening to: Thomas Godoj's I Don't Feel The Same.

It's one of those songs that makes you wish you were the one who wrote it.

Today has been a slightly complicated and interesting day.

For my drama elective, I am playing a character named Thelma in Night, Mother. Me and my partner, Natalie, had a few problems concerning our emotions for that particular play, which led to my drama teacher making us do some exercises to get all the raw emotions out.

I'm not feeling very coherent right now, so I'll cut the crap and tell you guys that what she basically made us do was to say our lines while wrestling.

Well, Natalie was wrestling. I was mostly running away and laughing.

So my poor teacher stomped her foot, (yes, I SWEAR she stomped her foot) and said, "Hanis, stop laughing! Stop it! Stop it!"

How can she expect me to stop when I was just trying not to crack up even more?

After that, I eventually slipped into role, but in the back of my mind I was thinking, "Dude, someone save me. I can't wait for this to be over."

My friends were as helpful as global warming. Imagine me, with a tortured expression on my face, mouthing to my friend "Rescue Me" whenever my teacher turned her back. Now imagine me with an evil expression on my face while I watch said friend run away laughing.

Maybe it's karma for me running away and laughing before.

But my detached self soon made my teacher do one of her famous 'Pep Talks'. Trust me, these pep talks are far from inspiring. They sway either one way or another: One, your mind will feel extremely light and clear after, or two, you walk out feeling even more confused than ever before.

I was two.

She starts: "There's something holding you back. What's holding you back?"
"I dunno. Nothing."
"There's something. You're afraid of emotion."
"Eh. No."
"Yes you are." (Wow. I never knew my teacher was a double for Criss Angel's Mindfreak.)
I shut up and don't bother arguing.
But she STILL continues.
"Hanis. What is it?" (What is WHAT. Of all my S.O.S experiences in life, this ranks as one of the highest.)
"This is just a script." (I say that because that's the first thing that comes into my mind.)
"There you go. You're so flippant. Stop being flippant." (Hey, I AM flippant. Wow. You do make sense after all.)
And she still yaks on.
"You have to stop being flippant. I think it's just a front. Go home and think about why you put on this front."

At this point, I don't even have the ENERGY to say no anymore.

I'm not a very complicated person. I take things as they are, which is why I don't freak out and bash my head against the wall like other people when they find out that they hadn't studied for a test. I have a very firm belief that things will work out. Everything will fall in place.

Or maybe I'm just one of those people who has Lady Luck permanently sewn on to my shoulder.

But either way, as I've mentioned before, I don't like to over think. Over thinking can be very unhealthy for you, and I've seen the end result one too many times. Things happen for a reason, and I take everything with a pinch of sugar and a bit of candy coated chocolate here and there.

I'm simple.

"No you're not."

Oh god, now she's haunting me. Major S.O.S, anyone?

I swear I'm going to turn schizophrenic soon.

EPIPHANY

2008-07-14T16:00:00.003+08:00

(Written during school- it's just so ironic how inspiration comes during the most boring classes where you're trying to come up with an excuse as to why you haven't done the homework.)

Life. What is life? I don't normally overthink, but this topic calls for severe brain cell reduction. What do you think is life? For me, it's nothing. My life is so carefree and 'I-don't-care' -ish, which is why I want to know what it is that makes life so worthwhile. I could be materialistic like many teens and say, 'My MCR posters', 'my music', 'my parents' or 'my friends', but really, my life doesn't depend on those. Everyone could leave me and I'd still survive. MCR and music could vanish mysteriously and I'd still get by.

So what is it that makes life so worth living for me? Perhaps, for a mother, it could be her child. A businessman, his money. An author, his creativity. But what about me? What do I value the most? What is it that fuels my energy to make it through another day? Currently, society has painted an image of life for me:

I study to study, then to study some more, then to study, until you graduate, after which you go through a couple of heartbreaks until you find some husband who will most probably be working at the Integrated Resort, then pop out 2.5 babies for the government, take care of them, get a job, work from 8 to 5, scold your children and tell them to study hard lest they turn out like you, then grow old, get bratty, noisy grandchildren (and dentures), read the obituaries, tell said grandchildren to study hard or they'll end up like their parents, arrange a funeral for your husband, then die.

Presumably of cancer.

What kind of a life is that?

There has to be something out there for me, something that would make my life proud and worth retelling to future generations. Which is why I've roughly made a sketch of what I want my future to be like. It's not concrete, but think of this sketch as an outline for colouring. You can colour the picture any way you want, but you just have to keep in between the lines.

I'm going to graduate from university to please my parents, leave Singapore to travel around the world, date a couple of hot guys along the way, marry a totally sexy foreign guy, come back to Singapore to do random stuff like taking over magazines and writing decent articles, attend rock concerts and owning St. James, receive surgery for permanent birth control, then move to Arizona or Amsterdam with said hot husband, make a couple of friends, then die peacefully there.

That's life all right.

Something out of the norm, something that would make your old friends turn into the Green Hulk due to jealousy and anger and make them scrutinize their extremely boring, normal lives filled with annoying children who just refuse to shut up and a husband who most probably goes clubbing behind their backs.
I'm not a fan of tying knots, but I do need an accessory to show off to the world.

But then again, at my age, I still have years of studying to do, and even though there is currently nothing or no one I would be frantically trying to save if my house were to burn down, I know that the only reason why I'm not throwing myself in front of a car screaming in frustration is because, as empty and pointless as it seems, I value my life too much for that.

Which comes to the conclusion that at this point in time, my life IS my life.

And thus, that not only shows the beauty of being a young teenage girl, it shows the beauty of being an individual.

It shows the beauty of being me.

And that is my epiphany.

The Best Damn Thing.

2008-07-08T19:49:00.004+08:00

Currently listening to: Avril Lavigne's The Best Damn Thing.

If my life could be described in a song, it probably would be all the songs you've ever heard of rolled into one. Messy, loud, and annoying.

Take Avril Lavigne. She has been a huge source of inspiration in my life, next to My Chemical Romance and Eminem. But that's not the reason why I've been listening to The Best Damn Thing on repeat for the past hour . I just simply have to keep it on until I get sick of it. That's my personal remedy for songs-that-have-been-stuck-in-your-head-and-can't-get-out-even-though-
I-have-a-math-test-and-can't-concentrate.

Trust me. Sometimes, songs can be such annoying brats. They keep pestering you in the back of your mind and won't let go until you accidentally write down their lyrics instead of y=2x+c.

Let's not even go into Math, shall we? It's a deep, dark, mysterious subject that baffles me even today.

Me. A much safer topic... But that doesn't mean I'm not deep, dark and mysterious, though I try very hard to be. Take, for example, today.

"No, Natalie, I'm not going to tell you."

"Tell me."

"Nu-uh! You can't make me!"

"Hanis. Tell."

"No!"

"Tell me, before I strangle you."

"Well, uh...I...have my ways..."

"Hanis."

"What? Damn! I'm trying to be sexy and mysterious here! Give me a break, would you?"

"You're failing miserably."

A day in the life of Hanis. You would have to include getting reprimanded by the Disicpline Mistress and made to stand in the sun for five minutes without talking (GASP!) because you were making too much noise.

Or having to get extremely seasick when you ride a single deck bus home because you've become too used to the nice view from sitting on the upper deck.

Or having to constantly rush after/drool over/be run over by said double deck buses.

I think I'm too obsessed with double-decks. So much so that I'm seized by a sudden urge to throw my 16th birthday party on one. Speaking of addictions, I was reading an article in a magazine concerning glue-sniffing, and there was a small segment that read: "This is what you should do if someone offers you a glue stick."..... Or something along those lines.

It went like this.

"Hey! Come on, try it! It's cool!"

And you're apparently supposed to say:

"No, it's not cool. Glue-sniffing is dangerous, and will ruin my life."

And they go:

"It's not addictive! A few sniffs and all your worries will be gone!"

To which you reply:

"No, glue-sniffing is addictive, and I do not want to waste my life away."

I have a few problems with this article. One: You're a freaking magazine. Who are YOU to tell me what I should or shouldn't do? You're paper! You're trees! I recycle you. And therefore, I OWN you.
Two: Do you really think life is a play? Well, apparently Shakespeare thinks so, but not me, and there is no script to follow when someone offers me glue. Did you think that, if I were in that position, I would be carrying out your very weirdish article around and be reading off it like some freak?

But take some of the advice to heart, people. Glue-sniffing is dangerous, and the next time your teacher hands you some of the stuff for you to do an art project, follow above script, even if the teacher doesn't say her lines correctly.

School.

In school, I'm a Drama Elective student, where, for my O level play, I am playing the role of some old geezer in Night Mother. Her name is Thelma, and she has taken to haunting me in my dreams and saying my lines, to which I wake up screaming to.

Drama is like glue. Once you're in, you can't get out. And the addiction follows you like your shadow, everywhere you go...

Isn't it fun if you could cut away your shadow ala Peter Pan? I think I could live without mine. So in terms of plays, mine would be Peter Pan. I can so see myself yelling, "I don't wanna grow up! You can't make me!" Guys, if there ever is a casting for Peter Pan somewhere, inform me. I need to serve justice to the role.

And there you go. A sneak peek into my life. I would have continued forever with this post and be happily bitching about glue, but I fear that Hannah Montana calls.

Speaking of Hannah Montana, if you don't like her, stay away from me. I'll do a Hannah and go, "Say WhaaaaaaaaTT." And probably burst into my rendition of 'Best Of Both Worlds'.

Signing off with no-more-Avril-Lavigne-singing-in-my-head,

Hanis.