Still in London, 6 mins so I'll be brief.
Last night, met up with Wingyee and we checked out S.O.S. (Salsa On Sunday) and bloody hell, imagine a room full of Viva Salsa-level skills, there you have it... I should never be awed by Union again! We went kind of late so we paid 5 pounds for like 1 short hour of dancing... but the performances on that day (cos it was their anniversary and stuff) were mindblowing!
Two performances we saw, first was this UK based guy Leon Rose who executed really clean moves, not unlike those movies Eddie showed us. I thought that was cool, but came the true stunner, a 28 year old lead and...
a 72 year old granny. White hair, frail bones and all. You thought Gloria was old? You ain't seen nothing yet.
Salsa is ageless, damn right.
The crux of the last post is simply this: I'm highly insecure.
You get to be like this when even now, you have to uphold the mantra -
trust no one.Why can't I let go? I already know that I can't and don't have to please everybody.
Believe me
I think that mostly, I have written in the narrative perspective of a "party lifestyle", so a little bird told me. For a change of pace, I'm going to write about myself. Something angsty, though if you have known me long enough, you will know that the angst is channeled elsewhere in an encrypted form.
Since I was born, it was understood and drilled into me that people were not going to like me. If they weren't making fun of my name as they did back then, they are making fun of my family as they are now. As a young 'un I was, or still am, naive. I thought that simple, unobstructive kindness was enough to win over the hearts of schoolmates, colleagues and strangers alike.
What I wasn't prepared for was my insincerity to the execution of kindness.
The army snorted me in and sneezed me into the pits of phelgmy green envy and disdain, altruism be damned. That BMT recourse, Jack said to me. "Do you know how insincere you are?" Insincerity became my middle name. Treated like dirt, all the while having to cover for my army-mentally-challenged buddy, the evils of crass, selfish Singapore were dyed into me with a slow fire.
I still worry about making a good impression. I don't want to fail anybody or let them down. But I have done it, again and again. People, whom in their own conceit, condemn me at my most frustrated and exhausted moments, not knowing how I work, not knowing that the whole fucking unit would probably go haywire were I to cease my work.
I am most afraid that I have allowed this disease to enter my social life; Infected with self-centredness, I am no longer the person who lays out cutlery for everyone, cuts the cake or sends everyone home north, east and west at 4am. Neither am I subtle with my words, I laugh whenever it can be construed as being mean, and I've become less prone to thinking before speaking - resulting in many an awkward silence.
I feel like... nothing can describe me. Unremarkable and unattractive. Like, I'm no alpha male, or suave like Shane or naughty-flirty like Porshee, and I'm certainly not intelligent or talented either. (If you think my driving is good, well, there's a lot of hidden damage to my car!) The only things people can use to describe me are characteristics that are not borne of my own hand, like wealth or dress sense. (Lest you forget that my mom buys most of my clothes, not unlike Lawrence.)
I still worry that I am nothing but a flimsy, insincere facade to these friends of mine. I can't afford to show myself for all that I am - factually, the truth of who I am would be construed as brash, pompous, boastful. The truth of what I am, in my soul - it would break you to know. I could be portrayed as unfillial, irresponsible, uncaring. Who could you point the finger at?
Times of joy - salsa, coffee, games, friends, music - remove me from that evil, but still, it's temporary. At the end of the day, I still return "home" into this madness, stress unreleased, problems unresolved, fists unclenched.
Just testing.
Eddie and I went to DXO for the Henry Knowles party on Sunday. We had dinner at Carl's Jr, and were seated next to 2 guys who we didn't know. Now, I'm not one to eavesdrop at every instant, but we both heard snatches of conversation which included keywords like "dance", "can't turn properly", "girls dressing up skimpily" (haha). Eddie and I were highly suspicious that the duo were salseros too, but we didn't feel like making fools out of ourselves. So, we conveniently brought up loud pieces of conversation surrounding Casino and hotties in the scene till we got their guard down and made them ask US if we were into salsa too!
Funny how you can distinguish the
hombrés & mohérés so easily.
Sorry guys, the blogger in me is suffering from seizures until I find my way out of writer's block. Maybe there just hasn't been anything exceptionally interesting?
Okay, last week there was the Afro-Caribbean Body Movement workshop by Jerome Ramos in which even instructor-level participants made a fool of themselves, but I was probably the biggest fool of all. >_< Tzeyi doesn't believe that the "Changing into the Deity's clothes" move looks like what Jared and I showed him! Sigh. Shoulder and hip shimmy mania~
DO YOU KNOW: Jerome's name was derived from his Chinese name, Jian4 Long2. He speaks fluent Mandarin, or at least enough to ask girls " 你 要 做 愛 吗?" Too bad he asked a married woman...
Balcony was not that impressive, probably because we didn't get the plushy mattresses. Pina Coladas taste like those Malaysian coconut sweets. (I was trying to imagine the scene from Murakami's
Dance Dance Dance where Yuki and the narrator are lying on a Hawaiian beach sipping Pina Coladas and fruit punch.)
PS: I'm not sure whether I want to be sick of Union or not.
My head's been buried in snow. I'm struggling to remember everything that's happened. In a nutshell:
New year's Friday: Sherry's stuff arrived in the evening when I came home. This was Phelicia's birthday at Union! Now I remember. Ate Subway at City Hall with Posh and Sher (met Nich Lim and Sally there), collected YY's cake. Drove straight to Union, watched "Britney Spears" and "Freddie Mercury" in the back bar. Much dancing to be had.
NYE: Bought Porshee's present. Dinner with Uncle Willy. Kenneth's party (Posh's pictures say it all). Double-parked and went to Clarke Quay for the countdown - hiding in the bushes but kena sprayed still. Had some mambo-ish fun at the Mardi Gras arena, then clubbing-ish stuff at some random bar. Sent Shihao off, went to Cheryl's place for the ultimate round of PASS-OUT! Danced in a somewhat inebriated state, eventually was one of the first 5 to pass out...
New Year's (Sun)day: Woke up with Kenneth at 8am for breakfast with the family, haha. Watched salsa videos till 11, went home, went for lunch, slept all day, spent the night online, slept again.
New Year's Monday: Went for lunch at Yoshinoya (kimchi beef bowl??), then caught Wallace and Gromit. Wandered around PS for a bit, ate Gelare, then went to Wisma Topman to get Eddie's shirt changed. Had dinner at Wisma foodcourt (YY antics: chopstick in drink).
Last Friday: Cohesion day. Soundly thrashed the trash-talking Avinash at both air rifle and bowling. Went for I2 class with Tzeyi, then Fiesta. Got a ride from Cheryl and Youyi to Clarke Quay, supper of beer, pizza and icecream; was very suddenly lured into One Night Stand for a spate of clubbing. Debated whether to go Porshee's house to pass out, which we didn't after much arrowing and coin flipping.
Last Saturday: The mysterious staring of Tako-san. Drooling outside Crystal Jade La Mian Xiao Long Bao. Lunch with YY, Sher and Keith at Scotts foodcourt (more YY antics: rice sneeze). Mysterious, sudden road closure at Chinatown. LADC Int/Adv class. Body Movement. Class gathering. Picked up Lawrence, headed to Union. Went to Jervois at 3am, and Posh Sher and I passed out immediately.
Sunday: Breakfast with Sherry at Great World. Lunch at Paragon Crystal Jade. Densha Otoko.
Monday: Went to eat lunch at Kranji with Weijian, Wong and Auntie Ang. (Yes an army event worth mentioning!!)
Lazy liao. Let's leave it at that.
Stand tall and shake the heavens.
"Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation. Stupidity is not a sin, the victim can't help being stupid. But stupidity is the only universal capital crime; the sentence is death, there is no appeal, and execution is carried out automatically and without pity." - Robert A. Heinlein
