DM
damien's monologue has been really tiring and stressful. filmmaking is slow and tedious a process. having the actor for peter and possibly serene dropping out of the project, i have to find new actors/actresses who are actually dedicated to the project as soon as possible. the filming itself and working with the main actor is tiring and we barely have filmed much. but of course it can be done in days to come.
filmmaking is thus, probably not my thing. all the wait and lack of control of mediums... like painting... you have to wait for the paint to dry to paint another layer. on top of that, paint is a volitile medium, meaning, the control of the paint applied on paper with a brush is not as controlled as say a pen or pencil. but overall, like film, paint also creates the most beautiful final product.
Story writing
need to get back to my story writing. realised i have lost my momentum. story writing, i realised, gives me perpetual dream like state. cos i am always thinking. secrets to writing is thought scribbling and this requires you to be equipt with paper and pen 24/7. i got used to that. i even sleep with a paper and pen when i write my stories. this is so that i could pen down every idea which comes up with every mood i felt at different times. this is a secret i use to write my stories. particularly the really long ones. i cannot achieve what i have written without this method.
currently my story-writing has been put on hold for months now, with the story, Me and Mrs Jones, not moving for the last few months or so. i admit, my blogging as well. well sorry if you actually take time to read my blog and realise that these days i have not been actually 'blogging'. instead i have been putting frivolous info/photos. i'll try to start this habit again.
Art and Photography
I have been given projects to do regarding these 2 art forms. Photography being for the book cover of a romance book in which i have made people pose as couples... it was fun. something i enjoy doing. but also, these require talents beyond me and alot of planning i required. these things are always hard. the social ascpect of artforms. the finding the right people. cos once you have options, you can achieve alot with what you have.
i also have been designing wedding stuff for my aunt. i have learnt overall from all the designing that although you might thing that what they want is seriously hideous (not saying what the final outcome of the mentioned projects are of so...), you do not have the right to have what you feel is best as the final say. you have to submit to what they want. it leaves a sour taste in my mouth whenever i complete something for someone i dont like thanks to their preferance, but i suck thumb. some things in life, you'll just have to submit to.
It was amazing worship I tell you. All anticipatory. And how often do you see a mediacorp actor Gurmit Singh sing as backup during a friday night service which not many would go to most of the time. Weird but cool. Everyone was expecting a great sermon from him. I did. I had a wakeup call i admit. But that was it.
If only you spoke.
If only you gave me a word.
I admit I have no balls for things like this.
But tonight i found myself at the altar.
Hands on me. My hands suspended with the weightlessness of hope that comes in flashing images, strangewords.
sometimes i see curtains, the word 'Cactus' or 'Golden', i see cars, my parents... But at the back of my mind, i know these are me.
I need something that i am sure is.
A sign directly to me.
(I promise I will not abuse this relationship we are supposed to have. I imagine my life after getting the word/sign. it'd be wonderful.)
I am ready for it.
But i got nothing.
Nothing.
At the end, I see emptiness.
Blankness.
I watch people and i get a new gush of high and try again.
I feel my father's hand and cry, and i try again.
I hear what the pastor prophesy about me and i try my luck again.
no personal encounter or whatsoever.
so i fall into this on off, drifting state,
tired and thinking about what i'm gonna do tomorrow and praying fervently,
and keeping silent as i was taught, to hear...
But nothing.
My legs grew tired.
Oh well, i said.
I left the altar emptyhanded.
