Dario Marianelli - Two Figures By a Fountain

It's quite interesting playing sports with Americans... I mean, not saying that they play it differently than we do; but it's just the entire general atmosphere of the court.

At the moment, we're learning volleyball. We're being taught by two mums who've played in high school, and one of them went on to play for her university. (I think it's University of Illinois; she was wearing a t-shirt with "alumni" and a Native American's chief head on it.)

I've never played volleyball before, but back home in Singapore, I was actively involved in my school's netball team. Netball, mostly played by Commonwealth nations, is a bit like basketball, except that there's no board behind the net, the ball looks like a volleyball and mostly girls play it - in skirts. (Ha.)

When we didn't do something right, or if we threw the netball kind of weird and to a pointless corner of the court, the coach would stop the game and go something like, "No! Don't do that!" It wasn't verbal abuse, but it didn't encourage you in the common sense of the word.

However, with these two volleyball coaches - especially the College Volleyball Mum....

Okay - I suck at serving in volleyball. When we were having practice, it was my turn to serve, and I said, "I suck at serving." She came over and said, "Okay, babe - here's what you have to do..."

I don't know about you, but whenever someone says "babe", I think of Latino men in singlets and leather jackets, or the cute little pig in the James Cromwell movie.

So I served, and the ball went in the opposite direction that I intended. I looked over sheepishly, expecting her to shake her head and say something like, "No, you should've used the heel of your hand like I told you to." Instead, College Volleyball Mum said, "That's alright! That's alright. Use this" - she indicated - "part of your hand next time, though. But it's okay. It was a pretty good start."

Heh.

And the terminology they use is different, too. I tend to watch more British television shows, so words like "shag" to me means "to have sex with someone". The first volleyball practice I went to, CVM (College Volleyball Mum) was shouting, "Shag the ball! Shag the ball!"

Needless to say, I started having dirty - verging on kinky - thoughts playing through my mind for almost all of practice.

But it's fun playing with them, I guess... It's fun doing a team "land sport" again. I've mostly been doing swimming, which is definitely not a team land sport. It's fun to play with my friends, despite the differences in coaching styles in that I'm used to...

I mean, "Go team!" right?

Duffy - Mercy

I used to think that everyone was an actor, that everyone could carry out a simple role in a drama. (We're not all Peter O'Tooles and Meryl Streeps.) However, I've learned today that acting doesn't come naturally to everyone.


I'm not just talking about the whole self-conscious issue. I'm talking about those logic-orientated, scientifically wired minds - there are steps to everything, and always a right answer to everything. In drama, as we thespians know, there are no right or wrongs in interpreting a role.


Let's talk about an actor's nightmare role - Hamlet.



One of the best known actors who's portrayed Prince Hamlet, Edwin Booth (brother to Lincoln's assassin, incidentally), portrayed the ill-fated son of Denmark as a quiet, thoughtful, sensitive man. His portrayal is considered one of the best in the history of theatre.
Edwin Booth as Hamlet, c. 1870
(source: Wikipedia)



In a more recent production, Ed Stoppard (son of Shakespeare in Love writer and famed playwright Tom Stoppard) played the Prince Denmark as, what I perceived from the reviews, a little indecisive (perhaps because Stoppard's Hamlet was younger) and fast-talking (not in the John Leguizamo way) with just the right touch of madness.

Ed Stoppard as Hamlet
(source: indielondon.com)





Hundreds of actors from Richard Burbage (original Hamlet) to David Tennant (current Hamlet on the West End) have portrayed Hamlet, and they've all done it differently. They did it as their "actory sense" told them to. There's no logic in acting besides the fact that you have to logically think how your character would react in that situation. However, unlike most "logical issues", there's no right and wrong to that one.

KT Tunstall - Heal Over

My great-grandfather died last night. He was ninety-one-years-old. I suppose our government's happy because he's one of the last few people they pay pension to. In Singapore, we don't have a a pension plan anymore, rather something we call a CPF. I have no idea what that means, and I don't really care. My great-grandfather used to be in the civil service, so he got all his medical and stuff free...

He's been mostly bedridden for the past couple of years... I'm old enough to remember him when he still could walk and talk somewhat. Once in a while, my whole family (great-uncles and -aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews... We're very extended family orientated, we Asians) would take him out for a nice dinner, and we'd have some goofy things going like karaeoke. That was always good fun. I don't remember him singing, though.

He's outlived his wife and one daughter, who died more than a year ago of stomach (was it colon?) cancer. I cried for Aunty Lucy, but I didn't really cry for him...

Most of what I know of him was told to me by my grandparents and father. Apparently he was quite a capable but hard and stingy man... I don't know if he is anything of a Scrooge, but sometimes the way he dealt with his sons make me think that he is that way. My two great-uncles (or granduncles, as we say back home) became estranged from their father over the years, and we don't even see the older of the two anymore.

At least my parents are home in Singapore at the moment. I wish I could be there, though. It's quite funny because I'm the oldest of the oldest of the oldest. My father was the oldest grandson and oldest son of my grandmother, who is the oldest child on the family. (Come to think of it, it sounds like something out of The Dark is Rising sequence. Good books, by the way.) The funeral is on Saturday. My parents say they'll cut out the obituary for my sister and me.

R.I.P.

Jamie T - Operation

Two singers I have mixed feelings about...:

(Alphabetical listing time!)

a. Miley Cyrus; and
b. Charlotte Church.

A. Miley Cyrus
Speaking from a singer and music connoisseur's point of view, there isn't anything great about her voice. I mean, yes, she can sing better than most fifteen-year-olds (I'll admit that she can project better than I can, but I don't have a singing coach), but there's nothing special about her voice. Some singers I'll listen to them once, and their voice will stay in my head forever. (Duffy, at the moment, is playing over and over in my head although I've only heard her song Mercy today once.) I've heard Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana songs more than once before, but I don't really remember what she sounds like. I suppose parents like her because she's squeaky clean, suggestive iPhone and Vanity Fair photos notwithstanding. But there isn't any substance in her songs, even in her non-Disney affiliated album. Yes, they sound catchy and good, but they don't hit you right there emotionally. Sorry, Miley - stick to acting. I'll admit you're a pretty good comedienne.

B. Charlotte Church
I preferred her when she was operatic, but I think, due to singing vocally challeging songs since young, her voice began to decline towards the end of her classical career. I've heard some of her earlier work, and her voice did used to be quite pure and clear. Her more recent operatic work reveal a huskier voice and a rather uncontrolled vibrato. Charlotte Church is (in)famous for her extremely wobbly lips and jiggling jaw, which betray bad posture and support, or so I've heard. But it is true that if you watch videos of Charlotte Church singing, say, O Mio Babbino Caro, and then watched the "queens of opera" like Kiri Te Kanawa, Montserrat Caballe (my favourite version), and Maria Callas sing, you'll see how violent she wobbles her lips and jaw. I felt sorry for her when I heard her sing O Mio, because she was definitely forcing herself to hit the high note. She looked like she was going to die - the desperation was so great in her eyes. Perhaps it is better that she has crossed over to pop. If you're reading this, Charlotte - I don't dislike you. Please get a better vocal coach.

Dashboard Confessional - Vindicated

There's an episode of House where Wilson (*swoon*) goes to House while they're in the coma guy's room and says something like, "You need people to like you," and House replies, "I don't need people to like me."

I often ask myself if I need people to like me... I mean, I like people to like me, but do I need them to like me?

At this point in my life, I essentially have two best friends - Char and Jess. I used to see Char almost every day, hang out with her every day. Jess I don't see as much (and I'm really sorry about that) but we're crazy when we're together. I don't feel a lack when I don't see my friends for more than three days... Maybe it's that "isolated homeschooler syndrome" getting to me.

I usually don't care when people don't like me. I don't go out of my way to make them like me. It doesn't make me insecure that people don't like me. The beauty about the situation when someone doesn't like me usually is that I don't like them either. But I don't hate anyone's guts. I'll still say hi to them and not spread malicious rumours about them, and I hope they'd at least do the same for me. You know.

Confession here: When I was in fifth grade, I started a hate club. I don't really recall why I did so... I think 'cause the girl was rich and liked the same guy as me. She was really tall and reasonably pretty (a bit of a Taiwanese pop star, but she was Taiwanese anyway), and thus the boys - including the guy I liked - paid her more attention. Love does make you do stupid things. I haven't seen her since I left the school.

I know that I'm not a very easy person to like. I'm very self-aware of my flaws, believe it or not. I know I can be grumpy, sarcastic, insensitive, impatient, random, crazy, overly outspoken, and I think sometimes I appear condescending. I'm not condescending by nature, I think. Sometimes I don't know how to relate to certain people, and when I try, it comes off as condescending. But I'm not naturally that way.

My sister is an easier person to like. She's generally quiet, very sweet, and always appears helpful. As her older sister, I know better (haha); but no, I will admit that she's very easy to like. And she's pretty, too.

Don't tell me, "You're not ugly!" I don't think I'm ugly, but I don't think I'm stunning, either. I'm not tall, I'm not slender/skinny, I generally don't make an effort everyday to look as if I'd just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. (I mean, if you ask me to dress up for a certain event that isn't a wedding or formal dinner, I'd complain about it, but I'd do it willingly enough.) But I think once you get to know me, I think we'd get along pretty well.

But isn't that always the case?

Dominic Cooper & Amanda Seyfried – Lay All Your Love On Me

From two well-known examples of our time, the formula to getting your blog noticed is

a) An interesting writing-style and wit; and
b) Sex.

(I really like these alphabetical points thing.)

The examples I’m referring to are Diablo Cody’s Pussy Ranch (which led to her book The Unlikely Stripper –or something to that effect – and eventually the screenplay for her hit movie, Juno) and Belle de Jour’s Diary of a London Call Girl (which lead to her books Confessions of a London Call Girl – or something to that effect – and eventually to the ITV2 serial starring Billie Piper, Secret Diary of a Call Girl). Both, incidentally, are hosted on Blogger.

Diablo Cody was a stripper who wrote about her stripping experiences on her blog and Belle de Jour writes of her sexual escapades as a call girl. Personally, I find Belle de Jour’s blog a lot more interesting than Diablo Cody’s. But that’s just my opinion. I love Juno more than I love Secret Diary of a Call Girl, though. I watched one episode of the latter and think it’s just a lame excuse to put semi-pornographic material on late night television. You might as well just go for the real thing, if you think about it that way.

N.B. I did not watch Secret Diary for the sake of sex. I watched it because I am a hardcore (no pun intended) fan of Billie Piper’s best-known character, Rose Tyler from Doctor Who. (I wept so hard when I watched Doomsday.) Thanks to the Billie Piper + Belle de Jour combination, I couldn’t help but wince when Rose reappeared in the last few episodes of Doctor Who, because I couldn’t help but think, What’s she been doing in the parallel world all these months? Thank you, Billie, for teaching me to stop typecasting actors.

It’s sad, really, that the “good stuff” has to have to have a bit of sex or romance in it. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t mind romance. But like the romance where they have to consummate their relationship before it’s official. (Think Ryan Philippe and Reese Witherspoon in Cruel Intentions.) I mean, even that squeaky clean Nancy Drew movie with Emma Roberts had to have a kiss in it.

I’ve never been in a relationship, but from examples I’ve seen from people like my parents or fictional stuff in movies/T.V. shows, love shouldn’t have to be proven by consummation or kissing. True love does wait. Love is patient, love is kind.

I don’t want this entry to turn into a pro-abstinence (which I am, actually) or religious sermon. I’m just expressing my disappointment and annoyance at the world.

This is pretty much about as much sex that will appear in this blog. Take it or leave it.

Daniel Powter - Love You Lately

First of all, I have to admit that I haven't actually finished reading Twilight. I have this theory that God doesn't want me to waste my brain cells on that garbage because each time I tried to borrow it,

a) It wasn't their copy;
b) I had to leave; and
c) They left it in another country (this only seems to happen when you're a third-culture kid).

But I've read enough to know that Stephanie Meyer is a terrible writer, especially for someone who has spent money on a B.A. in English from a reasonably good university (Brigham Young University), and her characters are some of the stupidest I've come across in a bestselling book.

When I reread the old stuff I've written, I wince at my use of adjectives, my attempts at explaining the thoughts going on in my character's heads and just the entire plot. Especially when I tried to write fantasy. Reading Stephanie Meyer was like rereading my old stuff. Only ten times worse, because she's an adult that's actually got a college degree in the language.

First of all, her characters are really dumb people. Bella Swan (is it with two "n's"? I don't remember) is supposed to be a sarcastic girl. When she first arrives in school, someone asks her why she's so pale, and she says, "My mother's part albino."

Um... Okay. That would actually make some sense, if you don't think about it, because albinism is inherited anyway.

And then there's the whole "beautiful Cullens" thread. I mean, shut up about their good looks already! I got that five chapters ago. I'm not a guy, I appreciate a good looking man, but I just got flipping annoyed about how good looking, well-muscled and perfect Edward Cullen is supposed to be. The "well-muscled chest" and "beautiful hands" made me want to smack Stephanie Meyer in the face.

Then there's the sickening devotion between Bella and Edward... A lot of teenage girls will say, "Oh, Edward threw himself in front of a van for Bella's sake!" Considering that he is a vampire, has supernatural strength and can't die unless someone hammers a stake through his heart, that isn't so much of a loss for him.

And then, when Bella goes shopping with friends, Edward saves her from being raped/robbed/whatever. Okay, that's nice of him... Then he confesses that he followed her.

Uh, that's not devotion. That's the sign of a stalker. And last I checked, stalkers are creepy, even in Forks.

Many reviews say that teenagers will identify with the feelings of alienation expressed in the novel. Well, the minute Bella Swan walks into high school, a guy falls for her, another asks her out to two dances (including the prom) and she has gained the attention of the supposedly hottest guy in school. (Gaining the attention of someone, even though he has the strong desire to kill you, is attention nontheless.)

Yeah, the Twilighters might say, "You're just jealous that Edward Cullen isn't yours."

Let me reply by saying, "He isn't yours either."

Coldplay - Violet Hill

I honestly do like blogging. I've tried to blog many a time, but China usually ends up blocking the blog-hosting website, which annoys me greatly. If China really wants to "open up to the world", they should start with their own people, which means not blocking Wikipedia and Youtube during crisises like the Tibet situation earlier this year. (I probably shouldn't be writing this, but if China blocks it, it's not my fault and you know the severity of their paranoia.)

The only problem with blogging is I never quite know what to write about... I suppose I'll find something to write in the days to come...

Good thing the SAT isn't like blogging. (Whoa... That'd be really fun, actually.) I took the SAT last June to qualify for the Johns Hopkins University CTY, and I thought it was kind of fun. (I didn't do brilliantly, but enough to qualify for the English section of their CTY. I've only done one course so far... It's so flipping expensive!) In the essay section, they wanted us to write something about people becoming a better person through hard times. I ended up writing about Batman or something to that effect...

Yeah, that's me for you. My friends think I'm scary sometimes at the really random connexions I make. I mean, I don't do it all the time. If you've played Pass the Word

(Pass the Word: a game where you sit in a circle and someone says a random word [no proper nouns], such as, "Chickens." The next person will think of the word that comes immediately to mind, like, "Coward." You can take the word in any way that you want. No repition, no hesitation. Good luck.)

with me, you know that I make okay connexions, although I've made references which the younger kids I've played with don't get.

I can get pretty morbid, too, actually. When I was in England this summer, I went to a cemetery with a friend, and I was thinking about what I would like on my headstone when I'm dead... Then I came up with this.

Me: Hey, Charlotte. Guess what? Let's say a teenager dies, right? You could put on his headstone something like, "Brian has... gone to his room."

Referencing, of course, the verse in the Bible where Jesus says he has gone ahead of us to prepare a room.

Char: [pause pause pause] Yes, Miki.

That's what she usually says when I say something that freaks/annoys/scares/amuses/bugs her. She says it a lot, actually.