The Twenty Fifth Hour

Today I went through the net deleting and refining old footprints.  Looking back over the first blog I had for the year, The Twenty Fifth Hour at Wordpress, I realised that a) not much happened in the first half of the year b) if it did it was pretty boring c) the first half of the year was pretty up and down, filled with weddings and funerals, and d) my life and writing were boring boring boring.  I think I felt pretty numb back then, and it showed.  Even my choice of layout was pretty dire (black background with white writing).  That in comparison to my blog now.  Not that it's that amazing but I at least feel I am a bit freer with words and ideas and expression now.   I have no idea why I went to wordpress either, other than I probably liked a friend's layout and wanted a version of it.  Nope, it's back to Blogger and here to stay.  Even the title of the blog was boring and derivative.  How much more plagiaristic can you get?  Muh.  In a much better place now in terms of creativity and flow, despite still having issues finishing things ;)

On the other hand, I saved this little gem:

The Lincoln

Last night, while out on the town with some friends, it occurred to me that I had not been physically touched by a person of the opposite sex for a long time.

I was out at the lovely Lincoln, which was overflowing and required lining up outside until I could pretend I was part of a group and sneak in. It was the end of term drinks for several hospitals which meant that people were trashed, happy and plentiful. Most of the people I had previously worked or studied with were there. As I spent the night shouting and squealing greetings, I grabbed people’s hands or gave them a hug. I am fairly touchy-feely in general, but the magic of alcohol meant that I and everyone else were more touch happy than usual. Anyway, so I was greeting a male colleague, whose shoulder or arm would normally be the furthest up the body I would touch, when he put his hand on my lower back. Taking into consideration the packed crowd, and the alcoholicness of the moment, I reciprocated and put my hand on the small of his back. And this is what I felt:

• Silky cotton shirt
  
• Alive, electric skin
  
• Solid, warm back held up by firm muscle and strong spine
  
• Thick belt, signalling the end of my back touching party
  
• Soft donut of fat spilling out from said belt. I wanted to pinch it.

He wasn’t extraordinarily buff or slim. I didn’t even like him all that much. But it was so lovely standing with our arms cradling each other that I let my hand rest there. The perfect back is so hard to find. His back was not so skinny that if felt like a metal rod, nor so fat that it felt like a wall, it was just right (long, reasonably toned, sitting well into a belt). I allowed myself to break free every so often to change hand positions and unconsciously took in its crevices and valleys. At the end of the conversation, we swapped regards, kissed each other on the cheek, then disengaged and continued on with our evening. But I carried the joy of his beautiful back the rest of the night.

The only thing is, for the life of me I can't remember who the guy was...

I have also decided to try being more open online.  Well, we'll see.  I've always been really thingy about being open on the internet, I think it can lead to all sorts of trouble.  But I'll give it a stab.  I'll do my best to extend from a tiptoe to a heel.

Olympic

What must be harder than an Asian female leaving medicine to study acting would be an Olympic athlete competing as openly gay.  Wow, I didn't think that athletes have it hard but they must...

On the other hand, I can think of even more difficult rivers to cross...Running for office as a coupled gay male would be super hard.  Then again, who would have thought two of the world's biggest talk show hosts would be black (Oprah) and lesbian (Ellen)?

Here are just some of the leaders breaking boundaries and scaling heights:

• Shonda Rhimes, executive producer of Grey's Anatomy single handedly changing the previously white face of prime time TV.
• John So, first community elected Lord Mayor of Melbourne.
• Kerryn Phelps, former president of the Australia Medical Association.

And well, we could get excited about Obama for hours :)

It IS possible to change the world.  Fuck yeah!

Crossing over

It's hard making a switch.

People who have always known you in one way can't see you in the other.  People who know both but have a personal favouring of the other question you consistently.  People like to box you in some way and are reticent to take you out of it.  Medicine is a conservative profession.  Despite general support and encouragement, I don't think anyone other than close friends truly understand.  And even then, there's still the faintest smudge of doubt.

It's a shame.  I wonder how many will keep.

Who knows what I am?  Who knows what anyone is really?  No-one ever fits into a box ever.  I know I went through a phase of introducing people almost with a label on their head, but that was when I was trying to work out where I sat.  I came to the conclusion in the end that there are none, rather tendencies that are extended and explored.  Everything anyone could ever be is and always has been inside that person.

I remember a few years ago I ran into a girl from high school who expressed such disappointment that I had gone into medicine instead of drama school.  You can't please everybody.

And yesterday I took a series of photos of a friend as a photographic study and posted them on Facebook.  I was very proud of my photos, having worked on them well into the night.  They were simple, unfussed, unspectacular conversations over coffee.  The first response from said friend was an expression of discomfort, and the following responses from other friends (all med) were of disbelief and incredulity.  Perhaps a closer look to examine how flattering the photos are, what they reveal about said friend and some insights would be at hand?

No-one gets me here...gaahhhh...

It would be nice to be in a place where admission to a prestigious college of art is a lusty achievement, rather than a well-meaning shrug.

Guylian cafe

Distortion

I love images that distort.  I am going to try and achieve more of that in my photography/theatre/writing.

To quote Anne Bogart:

To be awake on the stage, to distort something – a movement, a gesture, a word, a sentence – requires an act of necessary violence: the violence of undefining. Undefining means removing the comfortable assumptions about an object, a person, words, sentences or narrative by putting it all back in question.

Distortion in art is to be awake, to live.

Corners, elbows, behinds.  So much more telling and intriguing.  Sexier too.  Like a lady's ankle.

Gotta stop taking perfectly composed photos.

Nostalgia

The sepia tones of my room.

Actor-artists

I have much admiration for the multi-tasking actor-artist.

Here are some whom I think aren't doing too badly in the over-achieving stakes:

• Viggo Mortensen.  The ultimate actor-artist-painter-poet-photographer who is amazing on screen and just as incredible off it.  Runs his own publishing house for his writing and art.  
  
• Jacqueline McKenzie.  Incredible, riveting actress.  Unfortunately the rest of her art isn't that amazing, but she gets bonus points for trying.  Some samples of her artwork and music (oh dear) on her official website.
• Rhiana Griffith.  Australia child actor most famous for playing a boy in Vin Diesel vehicle Pitch Black. Love her paintings and hope to see more.
• James Franco.  Rose to fame in the eponymous James Dean movie.  Pretty boy but killing it.  Avid painter who exhibited for the first time last year.  Also recent hyper-over-achiever: after finishing his English lit degree at UCLA ten years after he started, he has now enrolled into three masters programs at Columbia, NYU and Brooklyn, studying directing, writing and literature.
• Miranda July.  Quirky writer/filmmaker/photographer/actor who has released a book of short stories and has been published in journals such as The New Yorker and Zoetrope. 
• Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy.  Well, Ethan Hawke's novels might not be high art but he has published two of them and made one into a movie.  Having read The Hottest State with skepticism, I was surprised to discover some heartfelt observations, although as a whole the novel was self-conscious and angsty.  Likewise Julie Delpy's writer-directorial debut 2 Days in Paris is filled with quirky insights into a French-American couple's holiday in France, but as a whole fails to gel.  However, the two of them together are cult filmmaking gold: Before Sunset and its sequel Before Sunrise were brought to life by the pair, sharing writing credit with director Richard Linklater.  Random wanderings around Europe would just not be the same.
• Gao Xingjian. Nobel prize winning Chinese novelist.  (Obviously not an actor), but a playwright, poet and fiction writer, as well as celebrated painter.

Oh to have but a tithe of their talents!

One day I'll resurrect my makeshift painting studio and improve upon my current total of two paintings.  But first I have to white balance my camera.  And finish a story.  Any story.

Talent

I have been reading EW's 30 under 30 for 2008.  

I am so far behind...

Thoughts

Theatre is magic whereas film is real...

No wait, film is transportation?

Film is release?

I'm still working on this.

In response to my crush on my 18 year old I've decided to take up photography again.  Well I'm going to try.  I become more rigid and stale as I get older and I'm not sure I can be bothered learning a new skill when I have plenty that I need to keep developing (ie. writing, acting etc).  But looking back through old photos made me realise how I miss looking at the world with wonder and amazement...I just wish I knew how to do all the technical stuff without having to learn it properly.  Also not sure yes if this is a spur of the moment thing and I was only ever attracted to said 18 year old because he had quality that I recognised in myself but missed...or if I actually thought he was hot.  Or if anyone has a moment with me and then becomes inspired.  Well I think that actually has happened, except this other guy was a bit strange and obsessed.  Er.  

Which brings me to my next point, are crushes ever real or are they just manifestations of the desires in yourself which you lack...can something romantic ever develop out of them?  I know I had a big crush on a friend when I first met him but then I resolved the issue with myself and now he's a mate...never would go there nuh-uh.  On the other hand this guy who was obsessed with me was completely loony cos I knew he was secretly interested in the acting bit...which he didn't realise himself although I told him repeatedly...and I was a bit young and confused and didn't know how to handle the attention...in any case, I had to tell him to stop calling me...so crushes can be completely loony as well.  Well maybe if I were older and could handle it a bit better I could have been friends with him...(doubt it though he was mad).  So yeah.  Can crushes be a sign of actual romantic potential?

Such brilliant things to be debating on Boxing Day...

Tender and I've Loved You So Long

There's something very magical about theatre.  There's something very life-affirming about film.

Learning

I am developing a new appreciation of architecture :)

Some artists that interest me are:

Tadao Ando, the Church of Light, Osaka (1989)

Ashton Raggatt McDougall, Storey Hall RMIT Uni Melbourne (1996)

Frank O. Gehry, Guggenheim Museum Bilbao (1997), DG Bank Berlin (2001)

Itsuko Hasegawa, Museum of Fruit (1995)

Zwi Hecker, Heinz Galinski School Berline (1995), Tower of Babel Tel Aviv (2002)

Toyo Ito, Tower of the Winds Yokohama (1986)

Jean Nouvel, Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris (1987)

I.M. Pei, Bank of China, Hong Kong (1989)

Ifs

If I had finished medicine, I would have been a surgeon.

Cutting up people and stitching up their organs? Yeah baby!

My father would have been ecstatic and I would have been a super nerd spending hours in the operating theatre while accumulating a incredibly large amount of money. Hell, I might have even been part of pioneering new and revolutionary surgical techniques.

It's suitably competitive, ambitious and high achieving. The fact that most of my male friends from my new year all want to be surgeons too is not a mistake. I would have used my jocular, tomboyish ways to perfection by hanging with the team. My affinity for anatomy and pathology would have come remarkably handy during tutorials and self-study sessions. I would have practiced pig suturing with relish.

Why didn't I want to finish medicine?

Because I didn't love it enough.

It's funny. I think about my wanderings about hospital and I can't deny that it was kind of fun. Riding up and down the staff elevator. Going to collect x-rays and CT scans. Listening for crackles in a patient's lung. Taking blood and then watching the red tubes go up the pathology chute. Good times with the staff. On the other hand, I don't think there was a single moment when I actually connected with a patient. Perhaps I'm antisocial.

It wasn't bad. But it wasn't life-changing either. Rather than inherently loving it, I didn't mind it. I considered choosing a career path for the suitability rather than passion. I substituted the real theatre for one with diathermy needles and packed ice.

And when I packed it in mid this year, and didn't return to my GP's office, I knew it was the right thing.

Onwards and upwards!

Rain

I like it :)

When has art changed you?

From a dear friend on Facebook:

I mean really changed you.

Hopefully it frequently moves you all the time — the painting that makes you laugh, the music that makes you smile, the movie that makes you outraged, the book that makes you cry — but I'm interested in the times that art has really changed the way you think about the world, or motivated you to go and give money to a charity, or made you change the way you live your life.

When my friend invited me to watch a show he'd directed - The UNSW Med Revue in 2002 - it was the catalyst for me moving to Sydney in 2003. Without having seen that show, I may still be living in Newcastle, working in an IT department.

Performing in the movement piece LIst in 2007 made me realise that I might like to spend a lot of my career working on shows with little to no dialogue.

A video of a Madonna concert (along with research a friend of mine did on South Africa) has led to a change in the way I buy things everyday, and given me a thesis topic!

Two out of three of these realisations have only changed my life because theatre is my career. So can I necessarily say that those moments would have been so profound if theatre wasn't what I do every day?

So, those of you for whom art isn't your life, when has it changed your life?

My reply:

Looking for Alibrandi made me realise I wasn't alone.

Miss Saigon, The Sound of Music and Sister Act 2 made me want to sing.

Numerous books by authors such as Murray Bail and Arundhati Roy etc etc made me want to write.

RENT made me fall in love with New York.

A Midsummer Night's Dream directed by Tim Supple made me think about the true physicality of Shakespeare's text.

Tambours sur la Digue by Theatre Du Soleil introduced me to the power and originality of physical theatre.

A Disappearing Number by Complicite reinforced my love for maths and play.

Stoning Mary made me believe in the quality and value of independent theatre.

Heartbreak High convinced me that an Asian chick could be on screen and kill it!

TV convinced me that the minutiae of people's lives could be moving and addictive.

Batman Begins made me believe that I could wear a batsuit and save Gotham city, all while maintaining monopoly of most of the financial market ;)

Hehe.

I'm moving to Melbourne

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!

Nostalgia

My mum found a whole bag of soft toys from my childhood.  Boy, I had a lot.  Sitting with me while I type is my fusty old mustard yellow teddy bear that plays 'Waltzing Matilda' when you wind it up.  I feel like a kid again. 

I have worked it out

Well sort of.

I have realised that my brain really can't sit still.  Really really can't.  As soon as I've finished one project I need to be on the next.  Probably a good thing I'm in a project-oriented industry though.  Probably not a good thing that I tend not to line things up one after the other.  Oh well.  When things start to get going I'm sure that'll turn around.

Am thinking about doing a short course in screenwriting or play writing.  Just to get my brain focussed again.  Slight problem with the whole summer let's-shut-everything-down thing though.  Thank god for blogs.

Also realised that the reason I can't write any short films or plays is because I don't know the form well enough.  Short stories I'm fine, I've spent years honing those but scriptwriting is something I really need to have someone helping me with.   So yes, a short course or something where I have someone to help me is the key thing.  Only problem is finding it.

Focus, sweetheart, focus.