Soft 7

We were both drowsy, lingering on the couch, slightly dozing off in the heat.

 

And as usual, we both didn't want to admit that we were tired.

 

You're drowsy. Someone's drifting off....

 

"No la. Where got? I'm wide awake. See?"

 

Oh, really now? What's 4 + 4 x 4?

 

"Easy.....uh.....32!"

 

Wrong. You are definitely drifting off.

 

"Eh....ya meh? I'm right!"

 

Nope. The answer is 20.

 

"Noooo...I'm right. Its 32..."

 

Hon, you've gotta do the multiplication bit first okay. See....tired already still don't wanna say.

 

"Eh....ya hor....but to prove I'm not sleepy, what's 5 + 4 x 4 x 4?"

 

That's.....69.

 

"Nah...someone says I'm drifting off. You're SOOOOO wrong. Its 144!"

 

Cheh. Someone is drifting off again. Its only 69, hon.

 

"Ei.......oh yah. Sh|t. So what is 4 x 4 + 5 x..."

 

I pulled her close and interrupted her with a kiss.

Just shut up and kiss me and then I'll let you go sleep.

 

A few moments of silence. And then...

 

"Just to prove to you I'm not sleepy and YOU are, which side is my artificial dimple on?"

 

Can't you just let it go? Haiyo...I prove you wrong already still not enough, want to prove me wrong again ha?

 

"Tell me." And then she covers her cheeks, a cheeky grin between the fingers.

 

Uh...left.

 

"Are you sure? You guess this wrong, I'm going to leave you."

 

Hey......CANNOT LIKE THAT ONE LA! SO UNFAIR ONE!

 

"Come on....which side is it?"

 

Let me see....I'm pretty sure its left....but then again. No, its RIGHT.

 

"Nope. Its left."

 

No...its right!

 

"Eh, you're telling me where my dimple is on my face? You think I dunno where my own dimple is meh? Stupid la...hahaha.."

 

I'm very sure its right.

 

"You sure?"

 

Yup.

 

"If you get this wrong, I'm going to up and leave oh..."

 

I'm sure. Positively.

 

"I wuv you." And then she leans over and kisses me, hands still over her cheeks.

 

Mmm.

 

Another few moments of silence. And then...

 

"Okay la, you're right. Its on the right side."

 

NAAAAAAAA!!!! NAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

 

I poked her cheeks repeatedly.

 

TOLD YOU ALREADY DON'T WANNA BELIEVE. WALAUEH!

 

"HAHAHAHAH....come here, baby..."

 

***

 

Yeah, we do have rather brain numbing conversations.

 

This song is catchy as.

This song rawks my socks. Man.

Yeah, sure, I wasn’t such a big fan of her previous songs but this one is bad@ss and is worth listening to especially when I want to wake up in the morning.

Sorry guys, I did have a proper post but I’ve not written it yet. Never thought that I’d actually procrastinate writing blog posts. LOL.

Teeth.

Man. This makes a guy think twice about doing it. Honestly. +D

And honestly, you learn new things everyday. Ever heard of v@gina dentata?

Yeah. I know. And they even made a film about it.

Somehow, I’m curious to watch it. It might actually be good. The film, I mean. *evil grin*

Outsider.

I looked at your photos.

I looked at all the familiar faces.

With each one (the old ones, anyway), I can remember little bits and pieces of memories. What happened in the past. What I did, what I said, where I was, what I was wearing.

And honestly…looking back at this now?

I’ve moved on.

I’m no longer a part of that gang.

Sure, we’re all (mostly) Malaysians and we used to hang out heaps. But that’s it. Nothing else.

The entire huge group is something not related to me now.

I take a little pride in the fact that I’ve grown up.

I take a little pride in the fact that sometimes, I have proven myself to be self-sufficient, not requiring any assistance or aid from anyone. I can pack my bags and come and go as I wish. I do not necessarily need table conversation when I sit down to have a meal because I bring a book or I entertain myself on my phone.

I also take pride in the fact that as part of growing up, I have learnt to interact differently with other people. I can go out and start a conversation with someone rather than keep to myself and be inside my own little privacy bubble.

I also love the fact that my friendships have matured. They have become better and stronger and sometimes, branched off in a completely different direction from what it started out in. That is brilliant. I get to see different facets of people and understand why they do what they do.

I like the idea that I’m out here and they are down there and I’m fighting on a daily basis to live life the way I want it. Independent, self-reliant, self-sufficient. I am all I need. In terms of physical and mental needs, for that matter.

I take pride in my dancing. I believe that I would have been so much better, so much more awesome if I had started from young but the odds stood against me.

But now, I am able to fund my own way through. I am able to say that I have competitions under my belt with several wins and even a trophy to boot! That’s a start.

I can say that I’m going for the National Ballroom and Latin Championships next July and then I’ve got Salsa Nationals to look forward to next October. And maybe, just maybe, if I find the time, I’ll do a few more showcases as well. We’ll see.

Yeah. Cool, isn’t it?

And for some reason, sometimes, it feels as though life is just one big bragging contest. I’ve got this. I’ve got that. I’m big. I’m famous. I’m everything you’re not.

Is there a reason?

The Eulogy

The body lay quietly in the coffin. His face was pale, calm. A hint of a smile graced his lips but nothing more. A bit of powder on his face, some lipstick to brighten up the dreary grey of them. He would rather die than have make up on his face. But oh, no pun intended.

 

An elderly couple crept up to the coffin and peered down at the deceased. The man coughed, pretending to hide his tears. The woman, closed her eyes and slid sad blobs of saltwater down her leathered cheeks. She hugged him and then burst into tears. The muffled sobs echoed throughout the forest. No one else said a thing. They all sat in their silence, respecting the dead.

 

The woman bent down over the coffin and kissed the dead man's forehead. "You were my gift from heaven," she said and then rushed a handkerchief to her eyes and nose. The grieving couple made their way down from the pedestal and sat down on one of the scattered benches. The husband's arm around the grieving wife, as she sobbed into his old, worn out shoulders.

 

A man walked up to the coffin. "Hey, Tiny," he muttered. "You're such an idiot. You're supposed to win our bet, remember? You were supposed to get married first." He bent down and kissed the cold, pale cheek. "I miss you, man. You took so long to come home and now that you're here, we can't even have a decent plate of kam pua mee together." And he made his way to his seat.

 

Another man walked up to pay his respects. "Hey, man. We should've finished off the Something Stupid melody when we had a chance. And hey, here's your songbook." He patted the man on the chest and laid down a well used Hitz Parade book."

 

Then a woman walked up to the coffin and she looked down at the man lying there. She kept her silence. She looked at the face she thought she knew so well. She looked beyond the closed eyelids and saw the friend she once knew. "I'm sorry," she whispers. And then she turned to leave and walked right out of the forest. She never looked back.

 

There was a woman, that no one really noticed. She stood behind the trees and waited for the weather to turn dark and grey and for everyone to leave. The coffin was closed. But still, it sat there, waiting for the undertaker to lay the body to rest.

 

She came up and opened the coffin. He still lay there, cold, pale, calm. Unmoving. So un-alive.

 

She tweaked his white bowtie and smiled at him. He loved that tailsuit. Oh, how he loved it. How he used to dance with her in it, spinning her around, floating on the dance floor.

 

"Hey, Snuggle." She ran her fingers through his hair. His bushy bushy hair. Hair that apparently could only be tamed by a good short haircut. Her fingers ran over the hole where the bullet had exited through his skull. She lingered there for a moment, her eyes glad-wrapped in tears.

 

"What happened to us, darling?" she whispered, imagining for a moment, he would wake up and hand in hand, they would walk out of there to the glorious future they were supposed to have together. But he lay there, hard, unmoving. Fingers cold, at his side. She tried to shut out the mental image of walking into his apartment, smelling the cordite and the thick, coppery sweet scent of blood and guts and gore. She did not see. But she knew. He had done it.

 

They both knew what was going to happen. In a way, she blamed herself for it. She could have stopped him. She could have took it all away. But he wanted it. He wanted it to end this way. Gloriously. Dramatically. At a point in time and in life that he knew what he was doing and before the old eyes failed and the heart withered away. Before dementia and paranoia and multiple heart, lung or kidney conditions took over everything that was important to him. Before the tumour and the chemo and the radiation drove him insane.

 

She admired him for that. She truly did. He had the guts to finally finish what he started.

 

"I love you, sugarpuff," he whispered to her the night before he died. They had slept in each others' arms, warm and content, satiated and satisfied. She had pleaded then, for him to reconsider, to change his mind.

 

"Boo, I want to die happy." He had said this in that slightly serious tone that always scared her a little bit. But she knew that no matter what she said, she could not make him think twice about this.

 

And the next morning, it was as though nothing had happened. He was up, smiling and shaving and he hugged her from behind as she brushed her teeth in the bathroom and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll make you breakfast," he said, cheerily. And then, rummaging through the cupboard, "Damn it! Hon, can you get some eggs?"

 

She did not think that it would happen so quickly. As she turned to leave, he pulled her close for a kiss. Just like the first kiss they shared. Uncertain, hesitant, soft, gentle, hard, yielding, caring, sweet. It was love.

 

"I love you, gorgeous," he murmured, with a hint of a smile.

 

"I love you too, snuggle," she replied.

 

And that was the last time she ever heard his voice.

 

The next moment consisted of her dialing 111, reporting a suicide. Then everything happened. The police, family, people around her. It was as though she stood frozen to the spot as things moved around her. And she just stood there. Doing nothing. In shock. In tears. In pain.

 

But there they were. Just the two of them. Him at peace, her in turmoil.

 

"I can't live without you, sweetie." She closed her eyes and tears smeared her mascara. "I love you too much."

 

She climbed into the coffin with him, snuggling side by side and she wrapped his arms around her waist, just like he used to do.

 

As she placed her lips on his, she remembered their first kiss. And the subsequent many kisses after.

 

She tucked their favourite blue rose into his lapel and held him tight for the final time as she closed the coffin lid.

 

And then raised the Beretta to her left temple.

 

***

The only thing that stirred were the birds disturbed by the muffled shot.

 

The undertaker did notice the coffin was a lot heavier but who knows, maybe he was getting on in years.

Quiet.

Ssh. Its okay.

Its been a bit quiet on Chapter Life Prologue.

The last several days has been hectic as anything, I’ve been rushed and danced off my feet literally and honestly, sometimes, it feels like the only thing that I really want to do when I’m completely knackered from dancing. To get up and dance again.

Attended the Showcase Spectacular where I was one of the performers. Comments received later mentioned that there was a lot of drama, acting and great facial expressions from me and the Redhead. Granted, we didn’t have the fabulous lifts and dips and drops that everyone else was so keen on. But apparently, our theatrics made up for the lack of brilliance.

Had two dance workshops the day after where I swore and cursed and realised that although my community physio placement was pretty awesome last year, I still cannot justify walking up a bloody hill (no, scratch that….make it a bloody mountain) everyday for the next many many years. Thus, why I didn’t take the position.

There was also a ball where for once, I was dressed up to the nines in a formal (and even better, a DANCE) suit with coattails. That suit is probably the best investment in life ever.

And I finally realised what it meant to dance until your toes hurt. I could barely walk down the stairs properly without looking as though I was stepping on burning coals every single step down.

Its been quiet, though. And that’s what I would like it to be after a long period of time where there’s complete chaos running through the streets and through my head.

Again, I was back at work yesterday. Its been all right. Just the usual. I’m not exactly complaining but hey, its fine. Earns me some moolah.

Looking at focusing on the salsa performance that’s coming up and the intermediate cuban salsa moves. Hoping to be able to bust some of those out at social salsa dances soon.

The Redhead and I will probably redo our routine again once more for some of those people who missed out on seeing it in Palmy. But after that…nah.

Its funny. I tend to choreograph these routines and then never ever dance it again. I don’t think it was that bad….I just think that I get really sick of dancing it. Hahah.

But right now, I’ve really gotta get ready for work.

I read.

I went through the "remembrances" section of CanTeen, an organisation that supports kids and teenagers with cancer of many sorts, and for a little while, I wished I had an entry on the "remembrance" site.

 

I've always been the melodramatic sort.

 

Imagine dying a death that for years after, people speak of in hushed tones, whispered behind velvet hands and slowly, as the years go by, the stories become more and more embellished so that by the end of it all, I didn't just put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.

 

I shot myself the first time and the bullet ricocheted off my spine, exiting through my right cheek. Still in pain and cursing my fate, I then picked the gun up again and attempted to embed a bullet in my left temple but I ended up taking a chunk of ear off instead. Bleeding profusely and in desperation, I shot myself 5 times in the stomach, all rather fatal wounds but dang it, I'm still breathing. It's only when I finally bit the bullet (no pun intended) and put the gun in my mouth with the barrel pointing up that I pulled the trigger and a fountain of grey matter and the resulting crimson sauce stopped the heart from beating and finally ended this mortal curse of living.

 

Woah.

 

Imagine how much clean up needs to be done. Honestly.

Somewhere in the Middle.

The title sounds like something taken from a tv comedy series.

It feels like I’m stuck in the middle of the week. I’ve got an exciting night ahead in 2 days and I’ve got a ball to attend where I can be actually properly attired (for once!) and yet, here I am Thursday going *yawn* boring…..

LatinLady and I decided to tell DanceMentor that we’re only going to do the latin dances from now on, hence, which makes it a whole lot easier. DanceMentor worried that I wouldn’t have a dance partner for my ballroom and new vogue dances but I wasn’t overly concerned. If push came to shove, someone will turn up. I’m not too fussed.

I’m still exhausted.

I’m glad that it’s a short day today for me. And I’m glad that I get Monday off at least to just take it easy and cruise, for once.

There’s a zouk instructor coming to town next month. So looking forward to picking that up maybe. The contrasts of 1-3-4 stepping is addictive. Plus, there’s pretty good music to go along with it. It was introduced as “contemporary salsa” but it looks like a lot of manhattans and circular moves. Something to challenge brain tissue with! YAY!

All right. Its time for work.

Eh, cannot give a fsck ha?

This is what I feel like today.

 

I'm sitting here hunched over the work computer keyboard and I'm thinking to myself that I look like one of those "baboons" that you see hunched over a keyboard. Or one of those evolution chain things that show that man evolved from apes into man into ape-like man tied to keyboards and computer screens.

 

I. Am. Sleepy.

 

I couldn't find my hospital swipe card this morning. Spent a good 20 or so minutes rummaging through my already messy room and turning it upside down but nope....nowhere in Hell did I find it. Sigh. Oh wells. Guess it happens.

 

Gave an inservice today regarding arterial blood gases and I quickly reminded myself of why I wanted to leave the profession. Seriously. Who on earth gives a damn about arterial blood gases?

 

Mm.

It's a bit quiet in my head at the moment. Some music is playing on the radio and I've got ballroom class later today. And also today, I get to tell the DanceMentor that I'm planning to do only latin dances with LatinLady and hopefully, move up the grades a little faster.

 

My work colleague is standing opposite me telling a little ole lady that she's to come back in two weeks, "just to see how she's doing and her strength" and to make sure that "everything is okay." Dear deity, what kind of compassion do you need to have to work here?

 

I read a story about a man who built a motorbike and then rode it through the forest, hit a tree stump and then flew over and broke himself in half. And somehow, it seemed to make perfect sense to me. I would like to shake his hand and find out what parts he used for his motorbike.

 

Man.

 

You know how sometimes, at work, your shoulders just feel so heavy and you feel as though you're wanting to collapse and lie down on they keyboard but then you would end up getting the keys marked into the side of your cheek and your drool will short circuit the keyboard?

 

I feel like sh|t today. Honestly.

 

End of story.

Hey, you.

Hey.

***

After dancing for so long, I never knew that one could ever feel like this.

Dancing, as you probably might have guessed, has been an integral part of my life for the past 4 or so years. Love it, hate it, been inspired by it, got completely put off by it, longing for it, dreading it. Such a whirlwind of emotions, to be completely transparent about it.

Dance has taken me to different heights, different events, different costumes, different ways of twisting my mind so that I could plan routines, get frustrated at dancers, absolutely adore dancers, try and suck up to dancers so they would teach me some different moves. I remembered my first time ever dancing a ballroom and latin competition in actual formal ballroom gear and I felt like I’d join the high-flying elite club where everyone swirls around the dance floor ala Victorian dance times. Latin was always a favourite and competitive latin allowed me to show my hips that sometimes, people thought were too “active” to be actually masculine.

Dance made me stand up in front of a crowd of over 400 people as I twinkle-toed in a spotlight with my dance partner and I swayed and carried her over the dance floor. Dance helped me shut out the world and focus solely on her and her alone, the music, my body, and me.

The end result, to put it simply, was poetic.

Last night after beginner’s rueda, Papa P came up and asked me whether I was keen to do a routine for the Salsa Congress next year and look at competing the year after. 

I was thrilled.

But honestly, after so many weeks and days and rehearsals and practices and sometimes, letdowns….believe it or not…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m actually sick of dancing.

Yeah. I know.

In my mind, I’m thinking, “Enough of practices, enough of routines and moves and technique and footwork and trying to match it to a piece of music or whatever’s playing on the sound system. That’s it.”

And in classic melodramatic dramamama mode, I would stomp off the polished floors in my cuban heels.

+)

Now that actually made me smile a little. Who knows, pink feather boas and “oh, daaaaaaaaaarling!” coming right up!

NotSoBlonde mentioned that I might have overdone it when I told her I was contemplating taking a break from ballroom and general dancing. She did say that if she was to maintain a “dance a MINIMUM of 5 days a week” schedule, she would go a little mad too.

So I guess its not just me, then.

But you know, weekend after weekend of practice and routines and figuring out moves and stuff is starting to grind on me just a little.

Maybe that’s why I stopped planning a routine completely after the “El Tango de Roxanne” routine last year.

True, I did another one beginning this year and that was a bit of a lucky break but now, I’m just a little bit tired.

What I really want to do is curl up in my blanket and mumble, “I’m tired, goway.”

In the near future, I’ll probably take a brief break from ballroom. I don’t think I can forget the shapes of my routines too quickly. Technique will probably go down the drain faster than you can say, “John Jacob Peter Piper Schmidt!” but oh well.

You know, there used to be such fun and enjoyment in dancing. There used to be like sweat drenched comfort in spinning it out on the dance floor and just to keep going and going and going and let the music take you places.

Or perhaps, am I taking dance too seriously once and for all? With competitions and whatnot, I guess you can’t exactly smile too much either. Half the time, I’m focusing on my steps and trying to do it properly and getting it done right.

If only I can just go back to the simplicity of a partner dance on the floor, where I knew what I was doing and she was enjoying herself and we were just both grooving to the music and interpreting music notes and lyrics with the movement of our bodies.

But for now, salsa performances to practise for and a possible routine to pick up by next year.

And for now NOW, I’ve gotta get some hip and knee replacements out the ward doors.

Criterion.

What do you look for in a partner/girlfriend/wife?

This question has been on my mind since I did the Social Interview thing on Facebook and I thought that it might make up a good blog topic.

But for now, work and an 8 hour paycheck beckons. Ta.

Eyes wide.

I’m slightly more awake now. Took a shower and woke up. Darn.

I initially wanted to title this entry “When the music fades.” That’s because I forgot to bring my mp3 player with me today.

You kinda get used to the fact that there is a continuous stream of music playing no matter what and so sometimes, its slightly odd that there actually is no music playing. The soundtrack to life suddenly seems very quiet.

Although that probably will lead to more thoughts running through my head uninterrupted by music as it always usually seems to be.

Tomorrow is the last day of work. I’m honestly glad. And I’m glad that I’ll be having a break for this weekend. And then I’ll be dancing my socks off. Just the way I like a weekend to begin.

I had a lot of thoughts today but I can’t really remember what they are anymore.

And oh. I watched an awesome dance video tonight. Which was really cool.

Can’t wait til Tuesday next week where we get to finish off the salsa performance routine.

And until everything is over and done with, good night.

Done and dusted.

So we’ve finally finished the routine. Phew.

I talked to the Redhead this morning regarding doing whole teaching thing. She seemed relatively keen. I, on the other hand seemed to find a thousand and one reasons why I shouldn’t do the teaching gig in the first place.

Its is probably pessimism on my part that makes me so reluctant to go forth and do this thing. Again, like I mentioned in the previous post, I’d hate to be the “other dance teacher.” Plus, since I’ve just started here, I don’t want to end up stepping on anyone’s toes just yet.

But I guess it is possible. I’m not sure whether I should ask the Higher Authorities whether I should pursue this venture especially since I know how they view me and me teaching dancing. One of those things I can’t exactly discuss with the parents.

When I won the 3rd place in the showcase and then the Adult E Grade Latin trophy, I didn’t exactly mention it to family. Of course, it was one of the things I crowed about heaps but I didn’t splurge it all out on immediate family. I would rather share the glory with people who would appreciate what I was doing rather than people who curbed my enthusiasm, thinking that it was a hobby that was overboard and took too much of my time.

Like I said before, I’m not exactly sure what I want happening with my life. I would like to do a stint like what the Sociologist did, taking off and finding out what its like to work back home. Who knows, I might even like it there and end up staying. But all in all, its still rather iffy.

At the moment, though, its just me and Wangy. I’ll finish off my contract and then I’ll dust off my suitcase, hopefully jump into my car and drive off into the distance and the sunset to start my new adventure.

Who knows, I might start up “chapterlifethejourney.”

Fingers crossed, people. I, personally can’t wait.

Bus trip inspirations.

Tapped out on my phone whilst waiting for the bus last week.

I find it ironic that an annoying lady that I once met a long time ago is at the bus station and she doesn’t remember me but I remember her. Sh|t yeah, I remember her.

She was this lady that was married to a Kiwi bloke for over 40 years. However, her being a traditional Baba Nyonya didn’t help her cause. Or her accent, to be more precise.

No offence, I consider myself a Malaysian from birth to death but this lady, though she was married to an ang moh for so long still sounded as though she was faking her accent every single time she opened her mouth. And tossing in a “sh|t!” every 3 or 4 words bored me to tears.

***

I’m sitting in the bus and the person behind me carries the scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. It conjures up to mind an image of a very mature, rich businessman who wears the scent of authority and decadence.

***

The weather is dull and dreary this evening. I don’t know if I feel like doing anything in particular.

I’m sleepy in the bus. Having Diana Krall crooning, “Just the way you are” into my one functioning ear doesn’t really help either. Meh.

***

The weather is cold today and freakishly so. There’s snow on the not too distant mountains and the bus was delayed by snow sealed roads. I guess this is the reality of late winters. I just wished it didn’t happen that often.

***

Dance was okay tonight. It was cold so I didn’t even break a sweat while dancing. Yes, that’s how cold the studio was. With other dancers in the same studio as well. Le sigh.

***

I typed the above last night. I’m now currenly on the bus back to Wangy. Funny. I’m expecting to be completely zonked out but so far, so good. Must be the immense Red Bull drink I had. Gosh, now that is good stuff. I’ve not those since 3rd year physio. All those sleepless nights trying to study (emphasis on trying) and in the end going, “Ah, fsck this!” and heading off to bed. Haven’t done that for a long time.

Was talking to the Redhead and she was talking about how she was collecting data for her research project and how she was behind time for it. That is one thing that I guess I will never understand.

I think I might have mentioned on this blog somewhere that I was not keen at all to even think about doing a post grad. I think I’ve had enough of studying. Singaporean Rambo (LTA) was looking at doing some papers next year and honestly, good for him. Because I don’t think I would even blink twice before turning down the offer for a post graduate degree. I’ve had enough of it. For a good several years, anyway. I’m thinking that I just want to chill and see how things go for the first few years before I do anything hasty with my life.

***

And Lord knows how much I missed you last night. You in your midnight blue silks and us swirling around like a tested glass of red wine on the dance floor dotted with star light and tenderness.

After party musing.

The following was written on my phone between waltzes, foxtrots, bursts of gypsy taps and amazing ceroc to a brass band that played all my favourite lovey-dovey songs.

I’m definitely getting a brass ensemble for any personal dance event I will have in the future.

It is one thing to go to a ball/dance competition and watch elegant elegant couples swirl on the dance floor in their sparkly dresses and black-as-night tailsuits.

It is another thing to go to a ball and watch grown up adults who I know was major power holders on the hospital board do the macarena, the chicken dance, and YMCA in quick succession.

Its odd. I find that whenever I am at a dance or a ball, I don’t dance. Not really. I’m not too sure why, anyway.

I seem to go into incredibly sombre moods whenever there is music and dance combined. I must admit, dance episodes where I am swept off my feet by the awesomeness of it all has been few and far in between. There is always that wait for the right song, the right beat, the right rhythm, the right kind of dance.

Interesting song combination – Lou Bega’s Mambo No.5 and Vengaboys’s Boom Boom Boom Boom. I want you in my room. PHWOAR.

Now another interesting bit. The song chorus goes, “I wanna have sex on the beach, come on move your body.” There are all these people of at least 40, plus elderly elderly ladies trying to gyrate to this kind of music.

God is good. I haven’t laughed like that in a while.

On a completely different note, its funny how when one ceroc person recognises another, we group together like flies on a pile of cow dung.

I was watching this couple dancing on the floor and I was literally going through all the moves they were doing inside my head. And then when I asked the lady for a dance, the husband and I ended up exchanging numbers and somehow promising to start ceroc in Wangy.

As much as I like ceroc, its a very flashy dance. Very very flashy. All the moves are meant to be attention grabbing, rather than dance partner connecting. Its meant for audience attention, rather than personal enjoyment enjoyment, if you know what I mean. Although I must say, watching one suddenly get it and understand what on earth is going on is immensely gratifying and I enjoy myself as much as I can on the dance floor. That’s part of the reason why we do it anyway. We’ve gotta enjoy ourselves somehow!

A number of people came up and told me that I was an “amazing dancer.” But the comment I appreciated most was that, “It was very entertaining to watch you dance.”

That’s half the point, isn’t it? I certainly had fun on the dance floor. And that’s it, isn’t it? If people know you’re enjoying yourself on the dance floor, they will enjoy watching you dance.

And while we’re on the topic of dancing, I still cannot do the whole jiggling and vibrating thing on the dance  floor. Its my curse, I guess. I appreciate how people can do it butI think that I can’t do it so I start to despise it. Stupid of me, I know. Tofupuff tells me to chill and relax, let go and stop being so damn rigid. She means well. And sometimes, that’s when the best things happen.

However, if you watch half the people on the dance floor doing that, they are bloody self conscious of the way they move, whether their bum looks big in that dress and they end up jogging on the spot and moving their fists up and down with their elbows tucked in by their sides. Honestly. What kind of dancing is THAT? But I guess, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. Fair enough.

Talking with the couple, I gathered even more stories about ceroc in Wangy. There were a lot of stories and truth be told, It was horrifying to hear.

From the Redhead, who seemed reluctant to divulge any real information, she mentioned that the guy who used to run it ran the franchise into the ground and that other teachers and trainee teachers had to try and keep it afloat for as long as possible. The guy that ran it also had a bad reputation around Wangy and especially in a town of this size, bad reps spread quickly. Thus, ceroc became synonymous with this man.

The husband of the lady I danced with also mentioned the same fact, that this guy who ran ceroc was not “popular” and thus, its eventual demise.

However, when they first started, they had so many people turning up that they had to turn people away for fire hazard reasons. The crowd was booming and it was bloody awesome, apparently.

And then, the husband mentioned that when the ballroom groups heard of ceroc, they boycotted it by organising classes on the nights that ceroc was being held.

Now, he was telling me this while I sat next to him in obviously a ballroom tailsuit and has been dancing ballroom for about half the night. I nodded my head politely and just took it for a fact.

With all this in mind, I thought back to the time when I met this lady in Wangy as well who did ceroc and she was saying that if I would set up a class, she would be more than happy to help me out in any way she can. The couple seemed pretty keen as well on ceroc restarting in Wangy.

Obviously, I’ve thought about starting a ceroc franchise for a long time. I’m in love with dance and with dancing in fact, that one of my wishes is to become a dance teacher. But I’ve come up with several reason why I don’t want to.

1. I am not sure if I want to stay here any longer than I do. I first thought to myself when I came here, “I’m just doing my two year contract and then I’m off somewhere!” But if I do this, start a franchise and all, I don’t think I’ll be prepared for the implications nor the fact that its a business and I honestly suck in terms of being a social dance butterfly.

2. With other dance groups being involved, I’m not exactly sure if I want to be the “other dance teacher.” With bad reputations and the like abound in this stupid place, it makes it hard enough that I’m relatively unknown, new to the place and I would probably be chased out with pitchforks soon enough rather than be allowed to stay and try to teach a new dance.

3. Its a bloody business I’m going to look at starting! Money flowing in, maintaining clientele, honestly, all I want to do is just teach for the fun and enjoyment of dance rather than end up doing the accounts over and over again at the end of the night. I don’t want to end up like the branch in Welly where its become strictly business and maintaining clients’ interests and counting the dollar bills as they come through the door.

4. I do a fulltime 40 hour week. I’m not sure if I can find it in myself to do another 8 hours on top of that. Would be fun in the process of destroying myself physically and mentally, I’m sure.

I don’t want to lose that authentic joy of dancing that I started out with. This is what I started out with, not what I lost in the process.

Perhaps this is why I’m always waiting for the right song, the right dance, the right beat, the right rhythm, the right everything. No matter what I’m dancing to, it’s gotta be right.

I’m trying to look for happiness, I think. And all I’m finding is sore feet, sweat drenched clothes, and probably 300 burnt calories by the end of the night but that feeling where “I look at you and you look at me and we’re both sweat tinged and fatigued and breathless and I’m holding on to your hand and all I know is that I’m happy” is like the elusive high that ultrarunners run for miles to get and cocaine addicts who have built up an extremely high tolerance to the drug smoke incessantly to get.

Oh, fsck. I hate it when I get depressingly philosophical.

Simplicity.

Sometimes, all it takes is just a bit of the normal, the usual, and the simple. To make everything work out okay.

Like this, for example. Nothing fancy. Chips in the oven, steak on the skillet, sweet chilli sauce on the side. That’s it.

And for those who saw my new update on Facebook, here’s the bling I was telling you all about.

Talk about bling indeed. At first, I kind of regretted getting something that made me look “gangsta” but in the end, I thought, “What the hell, I’ll never pull off that gangsta look anyway.” +D

And guess what, Sociologist?

They made a movie about me! +DDDDDD

Hospital Charity ball tonight.

And here’s the vintage 70’s inspired look for tonight.

Adios, everyone. I shall see you all later.

Soft 6

You knew this was coming. And I’m sure you missed it. +D

Boo.

“Hm?”

I wanna go brush teeth.

“Why always when I talk to you, you also want to go brush teeth one?”

Because after I talk to you, I go to sleep mah.

“Can’t you brush your teeth before you talk to me?”

Well…yeah. I guess I can. But I lazy. Hee.

“Eiyer, why you so like that one?

In that case, you don’t me to brush my teeth before I go to bed is it? Then I can lie next to you and go *burp*

“Get out of bed…..nnnnnnnnnooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwww….”

WHAT? HAHAHAHAHA…

“Go and brush your teeth!”

Eh, now you want me to go and brush my teeth is it?

“Go go go.”

***

Then while I’m scrubbing my pearly whites, she comes up from behind me and kisses my neck.

Baby….

“What?” *giggles*

You don’t be naughty ah…

*muacks* “Why not?”

Cos I’m brushing my teeth!

“Then can I do this?” She wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my back.

Mmm. *scrubs*

A few moments with her saying nothing and me brushing away.

*gargles…..* PTOOI.

“I love you, baby.”

I love you too, sweetheart.

We kissed.

Now that’s what I call minty fresh breath!

“Whatever! I don’t wanna talk to you anymore. Fine…”

Haha….come here, bao bei…

***

Yeah, these are actual conversations.

So maybe.

A little catch up session about what’s been happening recently over here in WangaWanga (as the Sociologist calls it now.)

Skipped beginners and social salsa on Monday to hightail it down to Palmy for dance practice and a bit of social ceroc dancing as well. Came back to work late the next day which was fine as I had cover and honestly, coming back in my tracksuit pants that I slept in didn’t bother me one bit either.

I was missed at ballroom, apparently. Two of the students who went for salsa last night turned up and quizzed me as to my whereabouts for ballroom. I’ve become such a fixture at those classes that my absence was noted considerably.

It was fun to get away just the same. Although I probably missed out a great opportunity to freestyle during a merengue song.

Talking about other dances, the Redhead mentioned learning some tango, salsa, and merengue the other day at a ceroc class and they learnt it as a routine. Which is a bit sad, really. Because half the fun is in choreographing it on the sport and doing it freestyle rather than following a set routine that a dance teacher had already figured out for you. Even with the argentine tango, its all about playing with the music and getting to learn each other’s body movements so that in three songs time, you can move according to each other. A bit like watching a capoiera battle. Nothing choreographed, everything done as an action or reaction. Brilliant stuff.

Today, I got a little bit depressed.

Yeah, I know. I do sometimes get into those moods. Horrible things, really. I honestly wish I didn’t.

But sometimes, you know, I talk to some people and they talk about what their lives were like and what they have done with themselves and I look at my own little existence and I wonder whether my life would be just another mere tiny drop in the ocean.

Perhaps, it is.

Was watching Big Bang Theory, of all shows to theorise from and one of the episodes talked about how someone in the performing arts sought approval from others rather than approval from within themselves. Hm. How true, sometimes.

Reminds me of how I dance and choreograph to the audience’s approval rather than the judges’ or even my own approval sometimes.

The times where I’ve stopped and looked at my (at the time) dance partner and told her, “That was amazing! Thank you!” are rare and far in between. I don’t get to do that very often now and I feel a bit idiotic for it. I’ve always preached on the topic of dancing for the love and the pure enjoyment of it and yet, I’m the hypocrite here dancing for approval and acceptance.

Right.

This picture was taken late evening on the way to Palmy. It was a blustery cold day and the sky was impossibly blue and all I could really see was the fading sunset. Took a picture of this as it reminded me that sometimes, even though everything seems nigh impossible, the sun WILL come out tomorrow. And tomorrow’s only a day away.

Huh.

I honestly don’t know if this is the right job for me. Too much on the line, too much responsibility or am I just shirking and playing the lazy fool?

P.S. Yes, ShortStuff, I got your message on Facebook. Dance is amazing, isn’t it? Only the people who find it will find it amazing. Haha..there’s a quote I used to use before.

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. – Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche.

Now isn’t that the truth.

P.P.S. Hope you don’t mind me calling you ShortStuff! +D

Around me.

So I went through my photos today and found some rather interesting ones that I’ve not seen for a while.

This was breakfast about two days ago. Well, this is usually what I have for breakfast anyway. I’ll take a cooked breaky rather than cereal any day.

I found this ironically funny. Curves is the name of a women’s only gym. Hokowhitu Meats, is a butchery. See the connection?

Now this is what I call carbo loading! I used one of those huge Korean flatbowls and pretty much a quarter of a 500g pack of spaghetti. Yums. Add mince nacho dip with mexican beans and that’s a meal to satisfy ME, that’s for sure!

This was what the weather was like yesterday. A brilliant sunshine-y morning.

And this is my golden ticket to the Hospital Charity Ball.

And the bum of it. Table 12, baby!

Me have nothing to write today. Hence, photos galore.

See ya later.

So me busy.

As all posts go when I’ve not updated for a bit. But that’s a real lie, actually.

For all the drafts that I’ve written that I’ve not finished, I feel slightly ashamed of myself. I’m not usually known as a blogger who blogs and then forgets about it for some reason or rather. I’ve always been known as a relatively consistent blogger who comes up with thoughts and inane things to blog about.

But lately, I’ve been tired.

Yeah.

I’ve been more tired than I normally am. I’m blaming it on my busy weekends and not having enough sleep like a normal person would.

I’m working again tomorrow. The list looks hopefully short and I hope it stays that way. I don’t want to have to pick up the list first thing tomorrow and then have to stay until 4pm in the afternoon to finish seeing everyone. But I guess that’s the way things go, isn’t it? That’s life, that’s work, that’s the rat race.

To show you how dedicated I am to this blogging thing, I’ve even written topics now and again when I think of something good to blog about.

So what’s been happening.

Apart from the stupid migraine-ish thing that I got myself into earlier this week, I blogged about the interesting youtube video that I found and that was that.

So what else happened?

I dropped off my dry cleaning at work the other day and the owner behind the counter asked me, “So, are you Kiwi born and bred?”

And I looked at him and said, “No, actually, I’m not.”

I’ve always been said to have a strong twang to my accent when I speak English to other native English speakers. Its just that if I don’t put that twang in, no one will understand me. Thus, I love speaking Manglish to another Malaysian because they will not have a clue at all about what on earth is going on. They catch some words and then give up, saying, “I don’t understand you!!!”

Awesome.

But apparently, according to the Sociologist, whom I managed to have a chat to recently, she’s also said that I’ve dropped my accent, which was undoubtedly American the last time. Maybe I’ve really picked up the Kiwi accent – supposedly, the English language that has no accent to it at all.

Something else that happened was that I got asked my opinion on in regards to a theological debate that Princess Dory had with another person I knew from back home. It was pure theological bullshIt that some people I know thrive on. Honestly. I know some people who would drag this through the roof just to prove their point right but heheh, as a outsider of the religion looking in, I was merely bemused by the pointlessness of it all.

I also started drinking coffee again recently, after noticing that I suffer very very badly from the afternoon 3pm slump. A cuppa with milk and two sugars and suddenly, there is this rush of adrenaline and I feel as though I can see all the patients in the world and not get burned out by it all. I’ve not really been able to get my cup of joe in on a daily basis but I’ve been trying to start the morning off with one as it keeps me powering through the day so far. I’ve tried green tea and I must admit, it is great stuff. It reminds me of drinking chinese tea at restaurants when you’re waiting for food to arrive. To replicate that same feeling while I’m sitting there screening notes at 8a.m. in the morning is amazing.

I went on Monday night after ballroom beginners to have a look at the salsa crowd at the Stellar for freestyling. Small crowd, but the music was good. Didn’t know too much salsa and felt quite awkward trying to have to lead and have really good people following me so I sat out most of it. Did a rueda and didn’t know half the time what we were doing but heck, I love ruedas. Honestly. Best thing ever for team/partner dancing.

But then, a merengue beat came on and I knew that this song was mine.

So I tore up (in my opinion) the dance floor with ceroc and moves that I’ve not done for ages and I just danced and danced and never wished for the music to end. There’s a certain freedom when you and your dance partner gets it and then you feel as though you two have been dancing together forever. Even people watching seem to think that you’ve been dancing together and that’s always a great feeling. To know that there’s been so much enjoyment, even a mistake or two is nothing to write home about.

Then as the experts came on the floor (and yes, some of them were just amazing), I watched as one guy who was wearing a black beret and a white chequered shirt nuzzle his way onto the floor with his dance partner and literally moved her like the fingers on his hand. They were so great together that I was literally mesmerized from the start. Someone mentioned that he went to Cuba to live for 4 years and that’s why he was so amazingly good.

That’s something I’d like to do. I remembered when I was doing the argentine tango that I wanted to go to Argentina to learn how to do the real thing and dance the real thing and come back, having immersed myself in the culture and the life and the love of the dance that is the argentine tango.

Better put it on my bucket list then.

One thing I found quite ironically funny was that about 2 days ago, Annoying Flatmate walked into the staff station and said, “I think Mrs M. is dead.”

And we were like, “HUH?”

He went to his bag, grabbed a stethoscope and then went out again. And came back in. “Yup, she’s dead.” Then went to grab a medical certificate of death form.

Its funny how he had to get his stethoscope to certify a death. Its ironic that I found it funny and that death has become such a mediocre occurrence that its just like, “Oh, so someone’s died. Huh.”

And the last thought for today.

After salsa on Tuesday night, I was about to head home when a bunch of people that I hardly knew asked me if I wanted to go for drinks. I politely declined and biked home. Pharmacy Con asked why I always seemed to disappear so quickly after salsa class. I just said that I usually feel quite tired, although I did feel slightly uncomfortable going out with a crowd of people that I didn’t know.

And I reaffirmed this last night when I went out to one of the doctor’s place for an inpromptu Mooncake Festival feast.

I spent most of my time eating rather than talking. I left after an hour because I got bored and honestly, I was full. And I’d rather head back and talk to someone wayyyyy more amusing and worth my time rather than hanging out with a bunch of people whom I couldn’t care less for.

Perhaps this is what’s really stopping me from becoming a dance teacher.

Everyone knows dance teachers are like the most social butterfly people in the world. Honestly, perhaps I was not made out to be dance teacher material. I’m happier just dancing with the one person and keeping to myself. Hearing the music and tapping my feet and all I wanna do is to have my own little dance party at home with you in the lounge, the lights down low, the music quietly playing and we don’t even need to be doing fancy stuff. Just holding you in my arms, rocking back and forth, your head buried in the crook of my neck, hair soft against my cheek and that’s all I really need to make my day all better again.

But one day, I’ll like to take you to the clubs and show people what dancing REALLY is like. Talk about evacuate the dance floor, huh?

Sometimes, I feel more like a slow dance underneath the moonlight with you.