Samsara is coming to a head--ZHENG! The week running up to the Prague Dance Festival has been full of preparations. Last Sunday, Zaini conducted an improvisation/imitation exercise. I realized how I still was incredibly unfamiliar with the vocabulary of this particular genre of movement. But it was a very enjoyable and enlightening time, and I wished Zaini had done more of it earlier, especially with him leading the improvisation. Our first couple of costume trials were tragedies for me. By the third, I had basically learnt to live with the tragedy and minimize it to the best of my ability. Even during the run before tech class on Saturday, I hear my costume ripping. A tassel all but falls off, and so I tear away the remainder still hanging on. At the first costume trial, I got a 'You look like a ghost' from Zaini, which prompted multiple tanning sessions. My skin is stubbornly white, so each session is necessarily lengthy. A final session today would have perfected my tan, I think, but I couldn't fit such an activity into my schedule (see below). Steph and I are tasked with publicity for this trip. Thankfully we have David to design the printed stuff. We just plague him with our compositions and corrections. I've had to go through piles of concert photos to pick out pretty shots, and have had to crisscross the downtown area in search of souvenirs. Rehearsals slowed down this past week, and were reduced to a few runs. A couple of nights we had time after to trot down to The Daily Scoop at Sunset Way for ice-cream (Jen: 'Ice-cream!'). It is yet another winning dessert, joining both the snow ice at PoMo I had with Yvonne, and the divine Bakerzin cakes at Sharon's birthday (Sharon: 'You had Sweet Pleasure in my room!' Koustav: o_O).
Lucky encounter
I met Michelle Rose on Sunday, after passing Amanda my thumb drive at Park Mall for her to transfer photos into, after the gathering at Zaini's place, after meeting the rest late at Golden Mile Complex, after replying David's email when I woke up. Replying David's emails has been my morning ritual for a few days. It's been a lot of back-and-forth just editing the text on the brochure and the postcard, and I realize I could have saved him a lot of trouble by sending him edited chunks of text for him to copy-and-paste, rather than listing the changes to be made. Anyway, I'm dragging Michelle along while I buy my necessities, including toothpaste and toothbrush from Muji which to her are as extravagant as a Calvin Klein door-stopper. Thanks to her, I decided against the entire list of souvenirs I had scouted for on Friday from the shops Michele had recommended. The stuff were good-quality, but I didn't find anything I really liked, and I could definitely find cheaper stuff elsewhere. We ended up in Lucky Plaza, and came upon Lucky Gift Shop, a very crammed establishment where the owners are a Chinese couple with such strange, garbled Chinese accents that it took me some time before I realized they were speaking Mandarin. Their stuff was reasonably priced, and after checking out some of the other shops, I decided on buying their box sets of three tall shot glasses with metallic decoration at the base. In comparison, one other shop sold a single short shot glass for nearly the same price as the Lucky set of three, which was also buy-two-boxes-get-one-glass-free. I thought it was such a steal. I told Lucky Lady I wanted ten boxes, and a shopper next to me sarcastically commented, 'Tsk tsk tsk... wa... he want ten...'. But there was not enough stock. I had to come back the next day.
After accompanying Michelle for a little more shopping (I felt bad for the dreary time at Lucky Plaza), I ended up late in reaching Expo. Only Jen had reached though (but apparently because her phone was dying, so no points for her either). Everyone else was late, some were even late for the concert, all of which left me quite frantic and frustrated for a while. The Big Groove was great. I loved Danz People's item. It went by a little too quickly, but Xiao's slow segment was memorable and nicely blocked, and Ahmad's choreo was pulled off successfully, I thought. O Crew's item was pretty good. I liked the pre-intermission segment especially. Gin stuck out, as usual, most of the time desirably, sometimes undesirably. Fredy was livin' it up on stage. I loved Allegra's performance, strong and steady, and a perfect balance of caring for and heck-caring the audience. SD Crew from Hong Kong was a big surprise for me. An all-guy crew which doesn't shy away from sexy moves, while staying completely masculine. My favourite kind of dancing. Funky Ziggy were amazing. Only three girls, pretty repetitive choreography, but so much fun to watch, especially the Gin dance-a-like. 5+5 showed that China excels at whatever it puts its mind to. The 2000% musicality soloist-in-white gave one of the most memorable performances of the concert. Yet of all the crews, Cool Mint probably stole the show. Even though they came on right at the start, and their item was quite short, no one could forget them. At curtain call, they crouched obediently in front of where we were sitting, and we got a close-up view of their very voosh hairdoes. A couple of them were so adorably small. Jen was busy trying to check if they had six-packs.
Yesterday, I went back to Park Mall to get my thumb drive back from Amanda. She called to say she forgot about our meeting me, and had rushed straight for ballet. She gave me directions to find her, but I decided to collect the souvenirs before coming back. At the Lucky Shop, Lucky Lady said the merchandise had not arrived, and called the delivery man a couple of times to hurry him. Eventually, Lucky Lady said the man could not arrive so soon because of traffic. I left my number, and went to meet Amanda. I recalled only half of the directions she gave me, still I managed to find my way to Fort Canning Centre, which is where she takes ballet classes with SBA thrice a week. The place is nice and secluded. The second storey is where the dance studios are, cooled only by wall fans. As I walked past, the ballerinas looked at me like I was an alien. Amanda's teacher reminded me so much of E-Chiing, in the way she carried herself, the way she explained movement, the way she guided her students, the way she gave feedback, the way she demonstrated the steps--snappy, clean. It brought back fond memories. After watching Amanda's class for a while, a Malay lady (whom I later learnt was the administrator) gently chased me away saying male friends weren't allowed around.
Amanda came downstairs when her class ended, and we talked for quite some time. Apparently her foot injury is pretty bad, and she has to bear it through at least two years plus more of ballet. By the time I left, it was pretty dark, and the toad choir was out in force. I made my way in the dreadful drizzle to South Asia Computer at Funan, where I learnt that LightScribe can only be applied on LightScribe discs. I couldn't find LightScribe CD-Rs, but I was desperately curious to try out my laptop's LightScribe ability, and the DVD+Rs weren't too expensive, so I got those instead.
Playing scramble
Tonight is the flight to Prague, and today I woke up scrambling. I hastily scanned (or whatever is the aural equivalent of visual scanning) through one last batch of songs, tried uploading but found MediaFire all jammed up, and had to try a few times at zSHARE because none of my files appeared at first after using the multiple-upload function. I ironed both the Alfama and Samsara costumes, and was considerably faster at it than the last time. The white pants refused to stay pressed though; after a couple of rounds on it I gave up. I glued the fallen tassel back onto its panel, then stuffed the costumes into the Daiso garment bags. The way I've handled them since has probably undone half of the ironing.
I didn't think printing the disc labels by LightScribe would be so slow. The print turned out pretty nice, but could be nicer if it were darker, and darker would take even longer. I'm about halfway through printing labels alone right now and... if each label takes half-an-hour and I have nine left to print, I guess I can't make it on time. I have to bring the laptop along, at least to the airport.
Lucky Lady called me up around noon and to my great relief announced that the correct goods had arrived. I cabbed to NUS to buy folders from the Co-op for the press kits. The folders are quite ugly, they probably won't match the brochures or the DVDs, but there was no time left to think. I grabbed them and went, trusting in the counting ability of sensible-looking salesgirl. I was wrong. I only realized that I was given one too few when I was back in the cab, on the way to Lucky Plaza. I collected the beautifully brand-new souvenirs from Lucky Lady, and I was sure she would have given in had I bargained, after all the trouble she put me through. But I couldn't, partly because it was already a very good exchange, and partly because I liked the Lucky Couple. I realize I didn't get a receipt, which may be bad news for my bank account. I was about to head to Chinatown when I realized I could have just got my ethnic costume from where I was. While looking around, I bumped into Dan and Rachel, which was a pleasant surprise. I'll be seeing them on the flight tonight again, where they will be with the SMU contingent.
I've got my passport, my wet tissues, got my face successfully masked (and un-masked, not to worry), unsuccessfully pore-packed, got the VIP souvenirs (*ing heavy), DVDs for the press kit (almost), folders (one short of twenty), jackets, chargers, batteries, adaptors, camera, Insight Guide to Prague, Czech in 60 Minutes, Monocle Issue 25, got my Pigeon Babies (no animals were harmed), make-up remover, ethnic top, got my Black Eyed Peas lyrics (for busking choreo), my itineraries, got my thermometers, costumes ironed and wrapped up in a bunch (who does this?), hair spray, hair clay, bag washed, shoes unwashed, Bounty distributed, blog updated. All set!
30.6.09
22.6.09
Plans
It was our last day in Amman, the end of a week-long trip to the Middle East. These final hours were dim and quiet. The coach was silent except for the soft purr of the air-conditioning. Most were asleep on the fairly long journey to the airport, which was punctuated only by the dropping off of Kenneth and Jason at InterContinental. I for once though, was wide awake. A while ago, I had been fidgeting constantly, unable to bring myself to settle in nor get out of my seat. Now, I was feeling more resolute. I was making plans for when I got home, for a fresh start in the new year.
Plan number one was to leave church. This has always seemed an ironic result. Most people presumably return from a pilgrimage to Israel spiritually awakened. I came back an apostate. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I do wonder what others' similar experiences are like. In a nutshell, I found religion to be little more than politics. Quite a no-brainer, but this only became clear to me at the front line of religious war, through the thoughts of a Palestinian-Jordanian-Greek-Christian guide; another ironic effect because he was nothing if not spiritual and religious.
Two weeks ago I got a call from church. Samsara rehearsal was about to begin so the man said he would call back the next day. I wasn't at my phone when he did, and haven't heard from him since. It was probably protocol that he not bother me beyond those two calls. The truth is that I am more than happy to speak to him. I still find difficulty in articulating my recent views on religion, but perhaps that difficulty is the basis of my position, an uncomfortable uncertainty, as opposed to the fixed tenets of religion that I had been accustomed to for nearly a decade.
On the bus ride back from Genting, also two weeks ago, I received a hint of the same wide-awake feeling of new beginnings, which jolted memories of last December. I had a great time hanging out with Chee Yuen and Rigel, friends from secondary school/junior college. Having a hotel room all to myself was awesome too. Genting is pretty boring though. It's amazing we managed to find things to do, especially on the first homeless night, where a few hours were killed just reminiscing old schoolmates and teachers. The place is merely an excuse for a retreat. It was fun, but I would much prefer spending my money some way else.
Never stop moving
Because of the short trip to Genting, I broke my religious attendance (OK, it's only been a month) of Xuehui's Monday class. She has a way of making you (OK, me) feel like a stiff, ungroovy, cacat robot with psychomotor problems, and I love it. I just appeared in the far corner of a couple of her videos, and I feel a little ugly looking at them. Last week, during her class, I could hear strains of Permanent, which likely came from Ryan's course next-door, and left me extremely curious. I've taken a couple of reggae classes by Trinity. They are definitely beginner level, but there's much that I can learn, including, if nothing else, how to isolate my lower back like her.
I was late for Lina's Blast class two weeks ago--one hour late. After that I was late for Fredy's first class. I missed his David Cook choreo and went for his second class with Nicole instead. I hate being late. Date rate fate gate (mate) sate... Kate's choreo is fun. Mazlan took over her class two weeks ago; his choreo is ultimate shiok for me. We're also learning his Bamboo Banga for Hamzah's item, which is a little hard to execute with the right flavour. I finally find out the song Chio used for the class I attended at Broadway Dance Center one-and-a-half years ago. For The Next Wave I'm also in Zaini and Juli's items. It's going to be mad rehearsals again when I come back.
Alvin de Castro
I wish I was there the night Alvin de Castro gave his speech about dance and nearly abandoning it after his mother's death. I heard of it through Yvonne and thought it really explained his sad eyes, especially when he dances. He needs a hug. I thoroughly enjoyed his classes, and the moments where I felt like I hit the choreo 70%. They were absolutely worth skipping one-and-a-half rehearsals for.
On Top Design
I'm over 7 months late but I just finished watching the second season of Top Design last week and it was another Kris Allen moment of euphoric shock for me when Nathan Thomas was announced the winner. I was dreading that they would give it to Preston, whose praised designs I did not like. I suspect all this dread and shock were a direct product of the work by the Magical Elves editors, who are the best around. I especially loved the eco-office episode, by the end of which I absolutely loathed Eddie and absolutely loved Nathan. Nathan should have been awarded two Top Designs for both their rooms. He was also totally robbed for the Swarovski chandelier challenge. He designs with spontaneity and panache, and his spaces are full of personality. I want to hang out in his rooms. I want to hang out with his rooms. I want to hang out in his clothes.
Tumble and fumble
Two Saturdays ago Aprine, Lynette, Stacey, Virgenia, Clement and I performed Alfama at Meritus Mandarin. We were given a hotel room and free-flow room service. I had a good shower to wash off the tech class grime. I'm still awful at the binding business. It's something I sadly have yet to pick up. Outside the ballroom we waited for nearly an hour, so after testing out tumbles and recoveries with the long costume and some combined revision, we took to photography at the lift landing and around the dusty piano. The performance went fairly well for me, considering we only had three practices and no dress rehearsal. I had strange, minor screw-ups, but I'm just glad I didn't tear my costume or leave a panel on stage. The audience seemed pretty receptive and attentive, even if they weren't vocal about it. But their dinner programme was extremely dreary, mainly a series of over-long speeches, so the mere sight of us doing nothing would have been exciting.
Wherever I go, there I am
I realized this on my way back from Genting. Whenever I've been overseas I tend to lapse into a kind of misery too embarrassing to explain. It's a loneliness which has nothing to do with being alone because I've had many happy-alone times. Apart from the trip to New York with Raj, most of my vacations have felt like an empty waste of money, which is why I'm reluctant to holiday too often. What is so precious to others seems like a throwaway to me. And so I get stricken by the kind of guilt involved in wasting food while thinking of starving children, which is a nonsensical kind of guilt. I've always mentally blamed poor company or an overly touristy itinerary, but I realize now it's mostly just me. There is no secret recipe to my enjoyment, I think, just a simple but difficult tweaking of the mind.
Plan number one was to leave church. This has always seemed an ironic result. Most people presumably return from a pilgrimage to Israel spiritually awakened. I came back an apostate. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I do wonder what others' similar experiences are like. In a nutshell, I found religion to be little more than politics. Quite a no-brainer, but this only became clear to me at the front line of religious war, through the thoughts of a Palestinian-Jordanian-Greek-Christian guide; another ironic effect because he was nothing if not spiritual and religious.
Two weeks ago I got a call from church. Samsara rehearsal was about to begin so the man said he would call back the next day. I wasn't at my phone when he did, and haven't heard from him since. It was probably protocol that he not bother me beyond those two calls. The truth is that I am more than happy to speak to him. I still find difficulty in articulating my recent views on religion, but perhaps that difficulty is the basis of my position, an uncomfortable uncertainty, as opposed to the fixed tenets of religion that I had been accustomed to for nearly a decade.
On the bus ride back from Genting, also two weeks ago, I received a hint of the same wide-awake feeling of new beginnings, which jolted memories of last December. I had a great time hanging out with Chee Yuen and Rigel, friends from secondary school/junior college. Having a hotel room all to myself was awesome too. Genting is pretty boring though. It's amazing we managed to find things to do, especially on the first homeless night, where a few hours were killed just reminiscing old schoolmates and teachers. The place is merely an excuse for a retreat. It was fun, but I would much prefer spending my money some way else.
Never stop moving
Because of the short trip to Genting, I broke my religious attendance (OK, it's only been a month) of Xuehui's Monday class. She has a way of making you (OK, me) feel like a stiff, ungroovy, cacat robot with psychomotor problems, and I love it. I just appeared in the far corner of a couple of her videos, and I feel a little ugly looking at them. Last week, during her class, I could hear strains of Permanent, which likely came from Ryan's course next-door, and left me extremely curious. I've taken a couple of reggae classes by Trinity. They are definitely beginner level, but there's much that I can learn, including, if nothing else, how to isolate my lower back like her.
I was late for Lina's Blast class two weeks ago--one hour late. After that I was late for Fredy's first class. I missed his David Cook choreo and went for his second class with Nicole instead. I hate being late. Date rate fate gate (mate) sate... Kate's choreo is fun. Mazlan took over her class two weeks ago; his choreo is ultimate shiok for me. We're also learning his Bamboo Banga for Hamzah's item, which is a little hard to execute with the right flavour. I finally find out the song Chio used for the class I attended at Broadway Dance Center one-and-a-half years ago. For The Next Wave I'm also in Zaini and Juli's items. It's going to be mad rehearsals again when I come back.
Alvin de Castro
I wish I was there the night Alvin de Castro gave his speech about dance and nearly abandoning it after his mother's death. I heard of it through Yvonne and thought it really explained his sad eyes, especially when he dances. He needs a hug. I thoroughly enjoyed his classes, and the moments where I felt like I hit the choreo 70%. They were absolutely worth skipping one-and-a-half rehearsals for.
On Top Design
I'm over 7 months late but I just finished watching the second season of Top Design last week and it was another Kris Allen moment of euphoric shock for me when Nathan Thomas was announced the winner. I was dreading that they would give it to Preston, whose praised designs I did not like. I suspect all this dread and shock were a direct product of the work by the Magical Elves editors, who are the best around. I especially loved the eco-office episode, by the end of which I absolutely loathed Eddie and absolutely loved Nathan. Nathan should have been awarded two Top Designs for both their rooms. He was also totally robbed for the Swarovski chandelier challenge. He designs with spontaneity and panache, and his spaces are full of personality. I want to hang out in his rooms. I want to hang out with his rooms. I want to hang out in his clothes.
Tumble and fumble
Two Saturdays ago Aprine, Lynette, Stacey, Virgenia, Clement and I performed Alfama at Meritus Mandarin. We were given a hotel room and free-flow room service. I had a good shower to wash off the tech class grime. I'm still awful at the binding business. It's something I sadly have yet to pick up. Outside the ballroom we waited for nearly an hour, so after testing out tumbles and recoveries with the long costume and some combined revision, we took to photography at the lift landing and around the dusty piano. The performance went fairly well for me, considering we only had three practices and no dress rehearsal. I had strange, minor screw-ups, but I'm just glad I didn't tear my costume or leave a panel on stage. The audience seemed pretty receptive and attentive, even if they weren't vocal about it. But their dinner programme was extremely dreary, mainly a series of over-long speeches, so the mere sight of us doing nothing would have been exciting.
Wherever I go, there I am
I realized this on my way back from Genting. Whenever I've been overseas I tend to lapse into a kind of misery too embarrassing to explain. It's a loneliness which has nothing to do with being alone because I've had many happy-alone times. Apart from the trip to New York with Raj, most of my vacations have felt like an empty waste of money, which is why I'm reluctant to holiday too often. What is so precious to others seems like a throwaway to me. And so I get stricken by the kind of guilt involved in wasting food while thinking of starving children, which is a nonsensical kind of guilt. I've always mentally blamed poor company or an overly touristy itinerary, but I realize now it's mostly just me. There is no secret recipe to my enjoyment, I think, just a simple but difficult tweaking of the mind.
3.6.09
Intolerance of intolerance
I've survived a string of performances this weekend, with varied results. Momentum at Republic Polytechnic went well. We restaged Four Short Stories about Boys and Girls from last year's The Next Wave. It was fun summoning my inner Joo Teng with attendant kooky faces. My stamina was always awful in the last minute of the item; I'd either hack like an old man in Zhining's face or whoop multiple times at Rachel. Since there was no water hanging around the stage, swallowing my own saliva mid-item did the trick on the last night. The concert was 16 items long, and my two favourites were from SAJC, with strong dude dancers and beautiful, genius blocking by Zaki, and RP Hip Hop, led by Gin and Larry Liu, with the forest-of-freezes opening, the rocking Focus Pon Me reggae segment, and the explosive Touch Me conclusion.
The morning after was the Circle Line show at Bishan. We were under-rehearsed, especially with the new blocking for the stage whose strange dimensions we should have known before-hand. But still it was great fun with the guys, and I wish I could have stayed on. After a final rehearsal with Qitang and Xu Zi at AS7, I collected Clement's speakers from his room and lugged it all about Holland Village and Orchard Road. Because they were in a plastic bag with a broken handle, I felt like Frank McCourt carrying the pig's head in Angela's Ashes, only with less humour and a lot more impatience. I got a linen-jute bag in replacement; hope it lasts! The haphazard trek from Dhoby Ghaut was draining, and so the air-conditioning of UE Square was great relief. I hid out in the third storey to cool, change, wash, write and sort, before heading down to the party. Ellen looked stunning as usual. The surprise performance was quite successful, numerous screw-ups notwithstanding. A couple of runs right before would have helped, but I still wouldn't be prepared for the proximity and the distractions of the audience. I'm really grateful Xu Zi got us to be a part of the item. I loved his choreo, and thoroughly enjoyed dancing it. I'd missed funk so much, and lapped up every last bit.
I thought I would be freer after Momentum, but the rehearsal schedule for Samsara just came out and it's pretty intensive. No pain, no Prague. Worst of all, it seems I won't be able to go for the Blast sharing sessions on Saturday mornings. Lina...! But I still have a few weeknights. I shall be going for Xuehui on Mondays, Trinity/Fredy/An An/Platform on Wednesdays, Kate/Derrick/Pat on Fridays.
On Idol
Most nights after rehearsals these past couple of weeks I would check up on Twitter and watch the numerous post-Idol interviews, which somehow sometimes take up to hours. Michael Slezak's Idolatry interviews are especially long. But it's all good stuff. On a side-note, Ace Young is such a dunce on American Idol Extra. Jillian Reynolds often looks like she wants to throttle him. At least I do. I've never followed Idol to such an extent before, but Kris, Adam, Allison and Matt are a lot of fun to watch. Adam in particular is probably the most incredible person to ever be on Idol. He is brave, poised, gracious, sagacious, and very eloquent. He's a noble rocker, which makes him intriguing and oxymoronic at the same time. Still I'm not a fan of his music. The show has surprisingly produced two awesome winners in a row. Gone are the days of the Rubens, the Fantasias, the Taylors, and the Jordins, hopefully.
This year's finale featured clunkers such as Lionel Richie and Rod Stewart. The inclusion of Queen Latifah was strange (she is neither contemporary nor legendary), although I absolutely loved the back-up choreography. David Cook returned to perform Permanent, a song co-written by Chantal Kreviazuk. It is about his brother Adam's battle with cancer, and is all the more poignant sung after his recent death. The song didn't quite hit me until I re-listened to it, and then I bawled my eyes out. I especially love the lines:
When all you know seems so far away
And everything is temporary
Rest your head
I'm permanent
For me, the song quite perfectly encapsulates David Cook--he is the quietest, most sensitive soul, yet his emotions are unleashed in the loudest, most powerful voice.
There has been much talk of judges staying or leaving. The judge that comes closest to indispensable is Simon, but even he has lost his edge this season. I don't know why the press and public have been so harsh on Kara though. She's a great songwriter, a great singer, and quite a good judge. I love this mash-up of Kara and Celine Dion singing Taking Chances. If there are any changes to judging, I sure wish there will be far less prophesying and haughty finale predictions, and no more of absurd artist comparisons. Kris Allen is Jason Mraz... huh?! Matt Giraud is Justin Timberlake... double huh?!
In defence of Nigel
I started out wanting to jump onto the bandwagon of bloggers who have derided Nigel Lythgoe for homophobia. I re-watched the segment on So You Think You Can Dance which featured Misha and Mitchel's audition, and now I think the issue is a little blown out of proportion. I also think that however inherently evil he has to be as a show business man, Nigel's apologies have been sincere.
@dizzyfeet I am very sad the word 'homophobe' is being used. That is someone who hates homosexuals. I dislike effeminate dancing! Wake up and listen! 1:06 AM May 23rd from web
Nigel is right. Homophobia is misused as an umbrella term, to denounce the marginalization of anything vaguely to do with sexual identity. What Nigel, and probably a great number of non-homophobes have, is an aversion towards the breaking of gender norms, as opposed to sexual norms. That is distinction number one. Distinction number two is that it is more of a discomfort than an outright hatred. Is the dislike of effeminacy any less unjust than the fear of homosexuals? Probably not.
@dizzyfeet I believe overtly effeminate dancing destroys the opportunity for many male dancers to be supported. Being gay doesn't mean effeminate. 1:13 AM May 23rd from web
@dizzyfeet I am passionate about dancers and dancing. I am not interested in their sexual preferences only their dancing and performances. Offstage ?? 2:21 AM May 23rd from TwitterFon
Keeping effeminate dancing underground or out-of-sight in order to legitimize male dancing is reinforcing the wrong beliefs. I'm often against drag or sissy performances done solely for laughs, because the meaning of the laugh, the ideas it supports, are questionable. Case in point: Travis Wall's fake audition to It's Raining Men last season was good fun while it lasted, and then quickly shoved back into the shadows once it was all over.
I think people are entitled to personal biases and comfort zones. Only the actions which follow may be judged. Prejudice, hate, violence are choices. Just as Miss California favoured opposite marriage, Nigel voiced his honest preferences, and I believe he remained respectful and generous to Misha and Mitchel. At one point he actually says 'thank you for sharing a first with us'. I don't think it is unreasonable to be disconcerted by the tampering of ballroom traditions. A little reaction time is not too much to ask for. While the ideal is an infinitely open mind to behaviour that bucks social trends and resists social constructs, there must be a certain tolerance of phobias insofar as they are discomforts and not hatreds. I am often intolerant of intolerance, and it can be a hypocrisy. What is awful is the blind condemnation of political incorrectness. Castigating a Holocaust denier is easy, but most do so on the basis of fourth-hand information and a feeling of righteous indignation.
The morning after was the Circle Line show at Bishan. We were under-rehearsed, especially with the new blocking for the stage whose strange dimensions we should have known before-hand. But still it was great fun with the guys, and I wish I could have stayed on. After a final rehearsal with Qitang and Xu Zi at AS7, I collected Clement's speakers from his room and lugged it all about Holland Village and Orchard Road. Because they were in a plastic bag with a broken handle, I felt like Frank McCourt carrying the pig's head in Angela's Ashes, only with less humour and a lot more impatience. I got a linen-jute bag in replacement; hope it lasts! The haphazard trek from Dhoby Ghaut was draining, and so the air-conditioning of UE Square was great relief. I hid out in the third storey to cool, change, wash, write and sort, before heading down to the party. Ellen looked stunning as usual. The surprise performance was quite successful, numerous screw-ups notwithstanding. A couple of runs right before would have helped, but I still wouldn't be prepared for the proximity and the distractions of the audience. I'm really grateful Xu Zi got us to be a part of the item. I loved his choreo, and thoroughly enjoyed dancing it. I'd missed funk so much, and lapped up every last bit.
I thought I would be freer after Momentum, but the rehearsal schedule for Samsara just came out and it's pretty intensive. No pain, no Prague. Worst of all, it seems I won't be able to go for the Blast sharing sessions on Saturday mornings. Lina...! But I still have a few weeknights. I shall be going for Xuehui on Mondays, Trinity/Fredy/An An/Platform on Wednesdays, Kate/Derrick/Pat on Fridays.
On Idol
Most nights after rehearsals these past couple of weeks I would check up on Twitter and watch the numerous post-Idol interviews, which somehow sometimes take up to hours. Michael Slezak's Idolatry interviews are especially long. But it's all good stuff. On a side-note, Ace Young is such a dunce on American Idol Extra. Jillian Reynolds often looks like she wants to throttle him. At least I do. I've never followed Idol to such an extent before, but Kris, Adam, Allison and Matt are a lot of fun to watch. Adam in particular is probably the most incredible person to ever be on Idol. He is brave, poised, gracious, sagacious, and very eloquent. He's a noble rocker, which makes him intriguing and oxymoronic at the same time. Still I'm not a fan of his music. The show has surprisingly produced two awesome winners in a row. Gone are the days of the Rubens, the Fantasias, the Taylors, and the Jordins, hopefully.
This year's finale featured clunkers such as Lionel Richie and Rod Stewart. The inclusion of Queen Latifah was strange (she is neither contemporary nor legendary), although I absolutely loved the back-up choreography. David Cook returned to perform Permanent, a song co-written by Chantal Kreviazuk. It is about his brother Adam's battle with cancer, and is all the more poignant sung after his recent death. The song didn't quite hit me until I re-listened to it, and then I bawled my eyes out. I especially love the lines:
When all you know seems so far away
And everything is temporary
Rest your head
I'm permanent
For me, the song quite perfectly encapsulates David Cook--he is the quietest, most sensitive soul, yet his emotions are unleashed in the loudest, most powerful voice.
There has been much talk of judges staying or leaving. The judge that comes closest to indispensable is Simon, but even he has lost his edge this season. I don't know why the press and public have been so harsh on Kara though. She's a great songwriter, a great singer, and quite a good judge. I love this mash-up of Kara and Celine Dion singing Taking Chances. If there are any changes to judging, I sure wish there will be far less prophesying and haughty finale predictions, and no more of absurd artist comparisons. Kris Allen is Jason Mraz... huh?! Matt Giraud is Justin Timberlake... double huh?!
In defence of Nigel
I started out wanting to jump onto the bandwagon of bloggers who have derided Nigel Lythgoe for homophobia. I re-watched the segment on So You Think You Can Dance which featured Misha and Mitchel's audition, and now I think the issue is a little blown out of proportion. I also think that however inherently evil he has to be as a show business man, Nigel's apologies have been sincere.
@dizzyfeet I am very sad the word 'homophobe' is being used. That is someone who hates homosexuals. I dislike effeminate dancing! Wake up and listen! 1:06 AM May 23rd from web
Nigel is right. Homophobia is misused as an umbrella term, to denounce the marginalization of anything vaguely to do with sexual identity. What Nigel, and probably a great number of non-homophobes have, is an aversion towards the breaking of gender norms, as opposed to sexual norms. That is distinction number one. Distinction number two is that it is more of a discomfort than an outright hatred. Is the dislike of effeminacy any less unjust than the fear of homosexuals? Probably not.
@dizzyfeet I believe overtly effeminate dancing destroys the opportunity for many male dancers to be supported. Being gay doesn't mean effeminate. 1:13 AM May 23rd from web
@dizzyfeet I am passionate about dancers and dancing. I am not interested in their sexual preferences only their dancing and performances. Offstage ?? 2:21 AM May 23rd from TwitterFon
Keeping effeminate dancing underground or out-of-sight in order to legitimize male dancing is reinforcing the wrong beliefs. I'm often against drag or sissy performances done solely for laughs, because the meaning of the laugh, the ideas it supports, are questionable. Case in point: Travis Wall's fake audition to It's Raining Men last season was good fun while it lasted, and then quickly shoved back into the shadows once it was all over.
I think people are entitled to personal biases and comfort zones. Only the actions which follow may be judged. Prejudice, hate, violence are choices. Just as Miss California favoured opposite marriage, Nigel voiced his honest preferences, and I believe he remained respectful and generous to Misha and Mitchel. At one point he actually says 'thank you for sharing a first with us'. I don't think it is unreasonable to be disconcerted by the tampering of ballroom traditions. A little reaction time is not too much to ask for. While the ideal is an infinitely open mind to behaviour that bucks social trends and resists social constructs, there must be a certain tolerance of phobias insofar as they are discomforts and not hatreds. I am often intolerant of intolerance, and it can be a hypocrisy. What is awful is the blind condemnation of political incorrectness. Castigating a Holocaust denier is easy, but most do so on the basis of fourth-hand information and a feeling of righteous indignation.
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