Confessions of an average Jane.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Moved

Janeconfessions has moved to wordpress. Thanks for reading this, and see you over there =)

http://janeconfessions.wordpress.com

so the story goes...

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

To Those Who Matter...

I read once that music is the heart's way of expressing itself. Lyrics, words of the soul. Poetic thought. And different people hear a song in so many different ways. How a song that touches you and leaves a lasting impression (till the next song comes along) does just that. Inspire and calm your soul.

This goes out to those who matter. When things seem bigger than you can handle.

When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in my mind
Where you belong

I'd go hungry
I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
No, there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
Though winds of change
Are throwing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like me yet

I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love

so the story goes...

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Ancient Chinese Loves

There's something strangely beautiful about Chinese love stories. Ones from ancient times, of folktales and mythical legends. There really is something about five hundred years of history.

尘世间最遥远的距离，不是我站在你面前，却不知道我爱你，而是，明明知道彼此相爱，却不能在一起。

The greatest distance that divides us, not because you are oblivious to my love, when I stand in front of you; but because we love each other, knowing fate will forever keep us apart.

so the story goes...

Monday, January 12, 2009

Of revelations and such

They say every experience is a learning opportunity. Good or bad, enjoyable or painful, memorable or best forgotten, lessons abound.

And so I learn. Or at least am led to ponder.

The ties that bind. It never used to feel like this. Or perhaps you just never realized it was this way all along. Skin-deep, fleeting, never truly a bond. You'd think three months make you wiser, but truth is there's something new everyday. And you wouldn't expect anything less. The pressure may be strong, the worries may be frustrating, maybe even painful. But yet they move on, not a notice. And you realize, you're big enough to deal with it. Or at least to mask the effects and move on.

Truth is but a novel thought. Does it truly entertain, is there honesty with the self. Or perhaps it's just right and commonsensical to do so. Make the best out of the situation, no doubt. Why fight the system when it's pretty much enthralled the majority. And with the multitudes of canned laughter, you realize it's for the best.

Sharing the joy. Which gradually starts to feel like basking in glory. And yet again, you wouldn't expect anything less. Pat yourself on the back when it's done, congratulate those around you who made it possible. Call for a mass get-together to celebrate the joy and moment before it passes. Then split up into small groups, huddled around each other with no welcoming sign. Of course you're grown and able enough to blend in. Yet once again, you wonder, would it matter?

The pains of growing up, more real than usual, nearer than preferred. You wouldn't expect anything less. The world does not revolve around you my dear. And you pray it never would. Funny is, it revolves around a select few.

All are equal, but some are more equal than others.

At the end of it, it's funny how there's no blues.

so the story goes...

Friday, January 9, 2009

In Retrospect

Maybe I interpret too much from your teachings. Maybe it's all in my head. And maybe it's all hallucinations. But indulge, I shall.

It is always about the character. Living, breathing, speaking, behaving, like the character. Becoming the character, or at the very least, understanding how he/she would feel and react. "Method Acting", you would call it. We never understood. The 250-word descriptions that you always wanted us to do (I recall we made you back down to 100 everytime). The endless pep talks you would deliver right before each rehearsal, to tell us our progress, how far we are from understanding our roles (we found them mundane and unnecessary, a hindrance to rehearsals ending earlier). You were strict, you didn't allow for irresponsible mistakes ($0.50 charge for every time we shouted "line" right after 2 weeks of running through the script).

"Slavedriver", we called you.

As crazy as your practices were, as demanding as it got, at the end of every show, we were proud. Proud not only that we've put in so much effort, proud that we've each done justice to the roles placed in our hands. Small roles, big roles, guest appearances. We successfully conveyed their thoughts through us, in whatever ways we could. And they were always good shows, always sold out.

Nothing frustrates more than the feeling of not having been able to put up something you'd be absolutely proud of. Of knowing that there was something that could have been done, somewhere along the way, but just not done because of a lack of direction, both self and externally-motivated.

Finally, you get a shot at combining two loves into one. It'd be a great experience, no doubt. The people you meet, the things you learn from them, the experiences you shared. There would be no regrets. Enjoyable, definitely. Unforgettable, surely. Everlasting, I don't know.

At the end of the day, you wish you could say you're proud. That you put up the best show there was.

Years after we've all moved on, some still carrying on with the craft, some not, some reacquainting themselves after years, your words seem to resound in the head.

"You'll miss what I put you through after you leave and find out how haphazardly it's done out there."

so the story goes...

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Anything but Ordinary

Life has come to revolve around Honk!. And when some sort of a long buried passion gets unearthed, you realize just what you've been missing all this while. Rushing to the drama room right after class everyday for rehearsals, staying in junior college till odd hours in the night (stargazing and pointing out the constellations on the way home), heading down to town for meetings and practices with fellow passionates after school.

It seems like it's been a while since you got in touch with that part of you. Somewhere along the way, someone reminded you that it's not practical, not feasible, simply not lucrative. And you believed. Then things around reminded you that the critics aren't all that far off.

And then you grew up. Or grew old. You find another direction that you know you wouldn't mind all that much. Another alternative, a back-up plan. Which eventually became the only one you knew. Then a passion became a hobby. Before you know it, the passion faded.

Of course, it got rekindled then and again. Events would invigorate, days would feel right again, younger. Then they end. And it's back to ordinary.

Is ordinary all that bad? Is there even an ordinary to begin with?

And on the day-off from rehearsals, we headed down to Mediacorp Radio for a publicity stint on 938 Live. Felt good to be back in a studio again, somewhat natural. It was fun, refreshing.

Life, as you know it for now, is Honk!.

"Have you ever thought of going into this area after you graduate?"

Everyday.

so the story goes...

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

One Step At A Time

And so the madness that is school begins. A strange feeling hovers, faces get stranger, places more unfamiliar. Friends going on exchange, some graduating by the end of the term. And then you. Something about being a "junior" that intrigues. Feeling lighter, increasingly more comfortable with class (however crazy-packed it may be with intimidatingly avid participants), motivated.

Motivation deriving from Honk!, from people around, from the self. The beauty of drive, purpose.

1. Honk!
2. Classes
3. RA
4. Tutor-girl

Then a realization that they've become so much you, what happens when it ends?

And a resolve to go a step at a time...

so the story goes...