Embracing My Crooked Lines at Twenty Four.

There’s something very sensuous and fulfilling about acknowledging the imperfections and idiosyncrasies that form a large part of you. And for many years, I’ve loved exploring those sides of me, (surprisingly) much more than the parts that others tend to affirm me for, or the parts that help me stand out in this widely varied and crazy world. It’s amazing how gratifying accepting ones weaknesses and flaws as a person can be. It’s the first step to a therapeutic, cleansing experience.

However, it’s not easy looking into ones innate mirror and embracing the scars and lines that draw us away from being paragons. Reality bites. And I, for one, was never always open to facing the cracks on/in the living sculpture that I’ve been molded into. But therein lies the poignant beauty of Corrinne May’s music – spiritual food of humility for egoistic souls, like yours and mine.

Aside from her angelic tunes and voice that instantly calms the being into stirring reflection, Corrinne’s songs – each a profoundly personal diary entry of a woman sharing her insecurities, her deepest thoughts and selflessly bearing her imperfect being – make inspirational pieces that encourage us to seek peace from facing the blemishes in ourselves and working towards a less imperfect state.

'On the Side of Me', 'Everything in Its Time' and 'All That I Need' are titles of such songs that admit that we are only human, that “I’m not the easiest person to love… I’m not too proud of some things I’ve done in my life” and that sometimes we need to trust in the promise that “the answer will come” and to “hold on to patience and watch for the sign”.

As a typical teenager, I remember keenly and constantly seeking acceptance and affirmation from those around me. Like many at that age would face, there was a dire need deep within to feel loved and significant. That probably accounts for the success of many songs in pop culture that push for youths to disregard the thoughts of others, to believe that "we are perfect the way we are".

It was very easy to find comfort in such pop messages, but what came through stronger for me after some time were Corrinne’s realistic and logical words of embracing ones vices, learning from them and growing from there.

Words like “every year we’re getting closer to who we’re going to be” gives us the sense that life can be – if we will it to be – a journey towards a better, wiser us. When “the skeletons in my closet are too big for me to hide”, sometimes it’s best to just acknowledge them and grow. Here are three of mine.

One. My bitchy ways has, for many years now, been a huge skeleton in my life. Although it has always served as a source of humour for others, at times, it crosses the line to stab and hurt. Defining the line between the two is something I'm constantly working on. But sometimes, I need friends to put me in my place.

Two. As I grow older and become more accustomed to my parents, it becomes easier to take them for granted. And while I've always ensured that I address or speak to my folks in a respectable way - never raising my voice at them or snapping at them the way I've seen others do with their parents - there are times when I forget and I come close to losing it.

Three. The maintenance of humility also calls for a lot of effort. I'm never one to allow myself to rest on my laurels or to think of myself as better than others - in any sense of the word. But that's not always easy to achieve.

One can aim to improve the self, but in rough times and situations, it can be difficult to stick to ones principles. Tough times have been aplenty in the last few years, from juggling work, family, studies, dance, friends and non-academic commitments, to heartbreaks, to pushing physical limits each day. The struggle to juggle has seen me failing in many ways in my responsibilities. There are also things that I’ve said and done in my past, and personalities and traits that I adopted that I’m far from being proud of.

As I approach my 24th birthday, I feel it is evident that the good in the childlike innocence that I used to have is fading away. While we can try to develop in us the good that we've lost, we are all slaves to the ambiguous future. I can only hope that "who I'm gonna be" is one that I'll be proud of.

The Rare Birthday Wish List

Shelf 1 of my Film, Music & Television Collection

It's comical how the incandescent thrill of gift giving can turn into an event of pressing pressure. Last Christmas, half of those who gave me gifts expressed how challenging it was to choose a present for me.

I can understand the pain though. I rarely tell people what I want, and it's not easy to guess. My fashion taste is specific and so are the gadgets that I've been aching to own. And while my love for film is widely known among friends, together with my collection of film, music and television titles, it's difficult to keep track of the titles I already own and those that I'd like to add to the collection.

I rarely do this because I feel like I'd come across presumptuous. However, several firm requests have been made for me to create one so here it is - a wish list for my birthday, consisting of mainly music and film titles that I've been wanting to buy for myself. Some of them I've been eyeing for years, but I don't always have the cash to buy all that I want. 

This is, however, only to help those who had plans to get me something. No pressure on anyone else (click HERE).

Easy Silence

I've been deeply baffled by the cold shoulder that I unexpectedly have been giving you. But maybe the reason why I no longer positively acknowledge your presence is your failure to live up to the promise of friendship maintenance.

During the aftermath of drama, I put the ball in my court. Your lack of response or reciprocation left me to throw it to you. I left it to you. But you forgot about it. Then on a random day in March 2011, I was blamed for the silence that stood between us. After an explanation of the efforts that I made, you made a promise that "we will meet soon".

It's May 2012, yo.

The Emotional Road to "For the First Time"

For someone who sees great importance in constant reflection of self and life, and who for many years took pride in doing so through this personal online diary, I failed myself in the last year for not penning down reflections and letting THE most enriching year in my life pass without any written memory.

This morning, I finally decided to end this drought. Last night brought about an experience too fulfilling to not mark in words.

For the first time, dance became an emotional outlet for me when Unific decided to take a huge artistic risk for this year's NTU Inter-Hall Dance Competition piece. After 4 consecutive championship wins and setting many trends at this annual event, it was decided late last year that we wanted to create an artistic performance piece rather than a high-energy competition piece. Pushing for art and the power of dance, rather than for entertainment, was the drive for Unific this year.

As a choreographer, I was terribly uneasy initially, mainly because the style and ambition of the piece was completely out of my comfort zone as an amateur dancer. On top of that, it was my first time choreographing for a Unific piece.

The concept we eventually came up with was one of broken hearts and the story of a broken relationship. It was agreed upon that we would tell the story against chronology, showing the break up first, then the beginning of the relationship and the lead up to its death, before repeating the break up again. We decided the best way to tell this story was to use just one style and song - "For the First Time" by The Script.

This came with many risks, worries and challenges. The audience - mostly university students without dance background - not understanding dance at that level was one. The score sheet given to the judges, which included elements like 'fusion', was another. The ability of Unific dancers to pull off such a high-level piece was the biggest worry, but also an enthralling challenge.

Another challenge that came with this concept was the repetition of the break up using the same choreography that needed to match the musicality of both the mellow beginning of the song and the climatic end of it. Achieving that took many days of analyzing and deconstructing the music.

In spite of the challenges and worries, from an emotional point of view, the fact that the theme of broken hearts is one that I can relate to made it a little easier to choreograph this piece, and I got to work with supremely talented choreographers, who blessed me with daily education on not just the art of dance, but everything that comes with putting that piece of art on stage. Inspired, hands down.

This also eventually came with a personal emotional outlet for me. I don't talk much about my past broken experiences with friends anymore. Not even close loved ones. And with such silence comes the assumption that one is fine and one has moved on. But as Christine Aguilera once wrote in her song, I'm OK, "bruises fade, father, but the pain remains the same". Moving on from someone is totally different from healing from the pain and insecurity associated with the end of a relationship.

Creating this emotional dance piece from scratch and executing it every practice from a very personal place deep within slowly guided me to a beautiful closure.

Six-hour dance practices, three to four times a week, each running into the wee hours of the night paid off last night. I got to bare my soul on stage and let go of the pain that the last three years have brought. Talk about artistic therapy. There were endless tears leading up to the performance - to emotionally prepare ourselves - and much more after the the performance ended. I've never in my life experienced first hand something so artistically powerful. And based on the audience reaction and the countless text messages I received seconds after the performance ended, it was clear the power of the piece shot through to the audience. I heard there were many in tears.

The aim for Unific this year was to bring something new to the table, something hall dance audiences had never seen done in this competition, and to move the audience with an emotionally-charged piece and a heartbreaking theme that they can identify with. Winning the gold was not as important this time around, but we knew that if we did, then this risk Unific took would be made more significant in NTU history.

Judging by the overall standard of the performances this year, I have to say that we were not expecting to make it to the top three, especially since the judging criteria was against us and there was a risk of the judges not agreeing with our artistic decision. The results were different from what I expected - much to our favour - but it was not as gratifying or important as the achievement of moving the audience and building a personal closure.

I'll never forget this beautiful experience that I got to share with fellow dancers whom I've grown to love most ardently in the last year and a half of being in university. I'm glad we made history in this competition. But more than anything, I'm glad we got to move more than a thousand people last night, and many more in time to come through the video recording of the piece.

Sometimes, when you take your broken heart and channel it to the creation of art, a golden experience awaits. Thank you, Unific.

Here are 2 recordings of the performance, one close up and the other of the entire stage. Remember to select the 1080pHD option. Enjoy watching our broken hearts beating as one.

Gratitude to the Ex-Tale

Dates have become much less of a regular event on my calendar these days - by choice, of course. The choice of priorities have made it so. But once in a while, when I do dine with a new stranger, there seems to be a common request for storytelling of the ex-tale.

Based on past experiences, sharing the ex-story has become one of the model ways to win new strangers over. It's called sympathy. It's easy to put ourselves in the role of the victim and feed tragic stories to acquaintances who know no better. "I committed this much... I was taken for granted... I was abused/cheated on... I sacrificed but garnered no return". The subtext to these stories being "soften your heart to my past... love me."

I think that's why my last date was taken aback when in response to the request for ex-tales, I shared that I have great respect for my ex-es; that in spite of the initial anger towards the breakups, I no longer bear ill will to them; that I still see the wonderful traits and personalities I fell in love with; that no matter the context of how the relationship ended, I bear half the responsibility for the conclusion.

Granted, there were reasons to be frustrated, to be consumed by the disappointment of failure. But barring initial emotional responses, I'd like to think there's more to be thankful for than be angst about - growth and the education of life. It makes it easier to just make peace with ones past.

"Be grateful to every person you've ever loved - past or present.

They exercised your heart, made you HUMAN."