Being Alive and Happy

We got our scripts last night for our first Theatre for Young People (T4YP) performance, entitled "Ten", which will be showing in KLPac next month. I don't know about the rest the cast, but I know one thing's for sure: I am excited! It took me some time - a little longer than expected, perhaps - but realisation dawned when I finally got home after watching Ironman today, and I thought to myself, with tune and all, "what a wonderful world".

For the first time in a very long time last night, I hesitated for a long moment before deciding the answer to this question, "Are you depressed at the moment?" I would usually know the answer right away, that I was obviously deeply depressed by the state of my mind, state of my being, and just by being here on earth.

But yesterday, I hesitated. I questioned whether I was depressed. And although I stood at the "yes" zone, deep inside I realised that I wasn't DEPRESSED. I was far from it.

I looked through the archive of my old blog, and read some of my past entries, trying to recall what it felt like to be depressed, and if I bore any resemblance right now to how I felt back then. Here are some excerpts:

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Every day I walk the earth, I feel a greater sense of remorse and grief. I am eating yet another person's bowl of rice, denying another child that right to food. This child could be the person to create the cure for cancer. This child could be the person to create an atmosphere of warmth and love for thousands of other people out there. But who am I? Who am I to be taking away this child's right? I am, obviously, not creating nor am I close to creating the cure to cancer. I am obviously not bringing joy to anyone else's life right now, much less to the lives of a thousand people out there.

Monday, January 21, 2008

"You are a 40-year-old trapped in a 15-year-old's body"

An old person in a young body, a sad person with a bubbly personality... Why do so many extreme opposites exist in my life?

I'm sinking deeper and deeper into depression; I'm afraid I'll never recover this time. I gather all my strength and courage, and realise that there is nothing that makes or breaks a person more than the feeling of being crushed.

What was it I said last week? Oh yeah. That. "Nothing makes you stronger than being pushed to breaking point, when everything feels so wrong and you could never be sadder than that."

Of course. Nothing. But this.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

So there I was, sitting in Murni, after a heated discussion and a waiter who came up to me and commented that I was pretty; adding up to the oddness of a night that was yesterday, and all of a sudden I just curled. Literally. I wanted to go home. My shawl wrapped tightly around me, I had wanted to hurl it away, take my clothes off, and run home.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't outrage. I hardly had any energy to care if my food was coming, even after waiting for half an hour. I could hardly muster up enough strength to raise my hand to enquire. Because at that very moment, all I wanted to do was to go home. I wanted the pain to go away. I just wanted it to disappear, along with my physical self, from this earth that we call home. Because I felt as if I had no home - no place to belong - and I felt small, and all alone.

We left. He bought some food for me, although I barely had any appetite to eat, and I was sure that my stomach was unable to digest any bits and pieces of food. But he bought it anyway. We went home. I ate. He watched. And then I sat and poured my heart out. I could think of a billion reasons for a heartache... breakups, divorce, broken friendships, losing your favourite book, ruining your favourite outfit, being homeless, or even having your partner cheating on you. But how do you comprehend something when your heartache is there merely because of your existence? How could simply being on earth, cause you so much pain?

There are nights when I come home, kick my shoes off, lie in bed, and I wonder, I wonder, if I will ever find a purpose to being. A purpose to this life.

Of course, it is much easier to blame it all on the weather. Rainy days make you sick. But I thank God for blessing me with someone who, despite it all, sees through me and holds my hand and tells me "it's not your fault". I remember asking, "But is it really?" But I don't want to know the answer. Never.

~~~

I only went as far back as the beginning of 2008 because this was "me" merely a few months back. This was "me" before I decided that I had to do the things I love doing in my life in order for me to love life. This was "me" before I fell in love with LIFE all over again.

This was "me" then. I was unhappy.

I used to think that I would only be happy if I made others happy. I used to think that I had to make a difference in other people's lives to be happy. I would feel extremely selfish if I ever had the slightest glimmer of wanting to be happy for myself; I would often feel like it was selfish mistake. But now I see it differently, and if anything, more clearly. If all of us were put here on earth for a reason, and if all of us are essentially looking for happiness, by pleasing ourselves and making ourselves happy, we may essentially be making everyone else happy as well. To each our own. Our own lives. Our own faith. Our own happiness.

What a difference a small time can make. I used to work on too many operatives like "tomorrow" or "yesterday", dwelling on my past and hoping too much for my future. But now, there is only one operative word that comes to mind - TODAY. And today, I am smiling. Today, I am happy.

Today, I am IN LOVE with LIFE.



Today, I am ALIVE.

Fact or fiction?

It's rather interesting, really. I've successfully converted myself into becoming the person I said I wanted to be in the Acting For Beginners class awhile ago.

"Unlike many of you trying to step out of your comfort zone, I'm trying to find ways to step back inside; to not reveal much about myself and to open up even less to others," I'd said. Some of them asked me why, whether I had gotten myself hurt one too many times, or if I thought opening up meant subjecting myself to the torture of caring too much and subsequently getting hurt, and it was actually a yes to both questions. I used to be an open book - what you see is what you get - a crazy, self-assured woman who loved freely, cared freely, spoke freely. And that, in turn, was transformed into vulnerability when taken for granted.

In some ways, it was also because I felt like I barely knew the real me anymore. I've laughed so much, cried even more, and at the end I still stare at the mirror each day and wonder to myself which facade I had to put on, which role I had to play on which day.

Today, in our very first rehearsal for the Theatre for Young People ensemble, we had an activity in which we had to mention three interesting "facts" about ourselves and one of them had to be a lie. I, instead, went all the way and lied about all three.

"Fact" number one was that I was a born-again Christian, and that I had discovered God in my period of darkness and sadness. The truth is that I've been through many periods of darkness and depression, and at the end of the day I still can't see where God is. I'm agnostic; I believe in the existence of a Higher Being but not in religion.

"Fact" number two was that I'm a dancer, that I did gymnastics, ballet and now I dance contemporary and jazz. Technically I wasn't lying entirely, but the truth is I do not dance anymore and haven't been doing it for years.

"Fact" number three was that I was a lesbian -_-. Anyone who falls for this is. just. so. cool. Honestly, I WISH I'm really a lesbian. Chances are it's easier to meet a WOMAN who shares more similarities with me than a MAN. But unfortunately I'm not. Straight as a flag pole, although I am very pro-homosexuality, believing that even gay people deserve equal rights and the right to love and be loved.

So, bringing this back to the beginning. I think the reason why I withhold information about myself is because I'm afraid people will think they know me without actually knowing me. I'd rather people know the wrong facts about me and have that perception rather than knowing me for who I am, and still get facts about me messed up. I'm just afraid of opening up nowadays, that's true. I'm just groping around in the darkness searching for my comfort zone, craving to climb back in there where it's secure and safe and warm and to be alone.

But, certain moments, I want to be around people; to share light moments, laughter and to "be myself".

We'll see how the next rehearsal goes.

Why... did I let it go?

I wonder if I could dance like this again or ever. Beautifully danced; the chemistry between the two dancers made this dance breathtaking, really.


Allison and Ivan from So You Think You Can Dance
dancing to "Why" by Annie Lennox

My one greatest regret in life is stopping formal dance training when I was much younger. I've stopped dancing for almost ten long years, while others my age were training hard to be stronger, more flexible, graceful, with better agility and strength, and not to mention, better adaptability to dance with a partner, something(s) I haven't been doing for the past ten years.

Silly, isn't it? My mother was the wisest woman on earth when she sent her children for proper training in music, and ballet for me, but we took that opportunity for granted. I would do anything to take back the years, but I know there's nothing I could do now, that's for sure. She saw the importance in formal music education, but unfortunately I didn't. Nowadays I have trouble reading notes even though I played the organ for about 8 years. And I missed out so much on dance. All I can do is to replace all those years of "emptiness" with extra hard work and extreme determination.

It's ironic, really. I literally begged my mother to send me for ballet classes. I wrote numerous letters reasoning why I should dance ballet, and I even pulled cheeky stunts by leaving newspaper cuttings, comic books, and pictures relating to ballet on her table. Sure, I stopped for various reasons - I have knee problems and a constant backache, but that wasn't enough justification to stop dancing when you realise how big a part of your life it truly is.

For years, I had this great big void in my heart, and I couldn't really be happy even when I tried to be. I smiled a lot, laughed even more, but there was always an emptiness deep inside. Whenever I watched dance performances or clips or movies, I cringe because I realised that this could be me. But it wasn't. It took me such a long time to come to the realisation that the missing link was returning my body to its true purpose and calling - dancing.

I know that people say when you started dancing at a young age your body never really loses it; that it's always within you and I won't deny that fact. I've had people approach me, asking me if I was a dancer (even today) whenever they see me around (even when I'm not dancing). But skipping years of training means losing out on lots of experiences, and the opportunities to build up on my strength (especially my hands). Even trained dancers, whenever they stop dancing for a month or two, would experience body aches whenever they pick up dancing again. Imagine that experience when you've stopped dancing formally for almost ten years.

Which is why we always say "mother knows best". She truly does. I should have listened. I just hope it's not too late now.

Edit: I decided to share these two videos that I find pretty impressive as well.


Beautiful choreography. Seriously.


I personally feel that this lacked chemistry, but the dancers were wonderful, it made this piece stunning. The chemistry may not have been there, but it did make me want to cry. They weren't dancing it for each other, but you can feel them feeling the music for themselves.
And oh, I think Blake McGrath makes dancing seem easy. Both him and Melody, in fact, have bodies made for lyrical dance. Oh, the softness!
At 00:53, Melody made a noticeable mistake. But she covered it up nicely :).