I like ianthe. But in the real world, they call me Livy, which I guess is pretty enough. in.a.minute is how I approach a great many things. I'm 23 and live in Melbourne, Australia. Email, of course, is optional. However, the guestbook is mandatory.

in.a.minute
we have but minutes to live

Monday, July 29, 2002

at 5:24 PM
Existing?
Unless you live in Melbourne or unless you just happen to know my phone numbers, I surely cannot begin to write about the last three weeks or so. It's just been so full on. I gushed and gushed about it all to Insomniac when I dragged her out to the closing night of Fame. I talked and talked, when I could get a word edgewise, when Belle rang to catch up. I fed my fellow student teachers at school tidbits about stressful rehearsals and later, about how the shows went. I was up at 4am and often did not get to bed till 12am. I taught my classes with my brain half switched on, and struggled to make some sense to the girls.

It sounds really awful, and it was. But I enjoyed it. I could have done with more sleep, sure, but I wouldn't have missed the last two weeks for the world. It taught me a great deal, and it opened up glimmers of opportunities, which I hope will come to fruit some time in the next few months.

The computer is still dead, so the posts will be sporadic or at least until I am back at uni with a regular schedule once again, which is some time next week. I'm nagging Jason to get the 'puter fixed, but all I've gotten from him so far were grunts and mutters. Boys!

But you just need to know that I'm happy today. Why? Because I had a good lesson today. The school I'm at, gave a gorgeous lunch for the student teachers and their supervisors. It's the last week of rounds. Fame is finally over. The sun was out today. It wasn't terribly cold. And most of all, I'm happy because Ho rang last night and said, "Hey Livy. Are you free this weekend, or maybe next weekend? We're having dinner, somewhere. I'm just organising it. I've rung Phong, I've rung Gary and they're coming. I'm trying to get Dave, and I'll give Alvin a ring. Say you can make it to catch up and stuff?!"

Monday, July 22, 2002

at 8:18 PM
We are not happy
'puter died. Isn't that tragic? No computer, no convenient 'net access, no mail, no work can be done, everything has to be handwritten.

What's even more tragic, though? There was an assignment in the 'puter. It was due last Friday, after I asked for an extension. Computer died early hours of Thursday morning. It's Monday, and the assignment is still somewhere, not completed. Happiness, indeed.

I've been at rehearsal since 9 this morning. I got out half an hour ago and dashed to the public library just so I could check mail, renew uni library books (I had to fork out $15 two weeks ago because I was always forgetting to renew them) and assure people I have not mysteriously died, and stuff.

I am dead tired.

Jason had a grave face when he inspected the computer. "The PU's fried," he intoned.

"What in heaven's name is the PU?!!! And do I look like I care? I don't care what the problem is, just fix it, damn it. I NEED that computer," I yelled.

"That's going to take some time," he said.

"I don't care. FIX IT!!"

I yelled at the backstage crew for being front of house when they were meant to be backstage. I yelled at the chorus for not being listening when instructions were given. I yelled at people because they weren't moving quick enough.

It is not good.

But I'm really enjoying my rounds.

Tuesday, July 16, 2002

at 5:00 AM
In the wee small hours
It's when you're alone in the quiet at some ungodly hour (like now) that the pain is hardest to bear - especially when it had been the subject matter of your dreams.

Yelch. Bad, icky stuff.

I'm taking off for a while. I can't juggle teaching rounds, rehearsals, in.a.minute, my deplorable state of mind and other stuff that crop up, at this present moment - there just isn't enough hours in the day. I do want to remain somewhat sane, you know.

Should be back after closing night Saturday next, if not earlier.

Saturday, July 13, 2002

at 11:28 PM
How now, brown cow?
Jason had a little saying for me whenever I waxed lyrical about him. "Planes may be hijacked, you know," he said. I've always denied that vehemently and really cannot imagine that happening without him at least telling me about it straightaway.

So imagine the state of my poor, poor heart when I find out from a mutual friend that everyone reckons he's 'involved' with a girl he had always maintained was just a friend. In fact, everyone knows it to be so. After all, they have been seen together many times.

'Devastated' barely covers it.

It makes one wonder if one ever knew a person.

at 10:49 PM
Cud chewing
I've barely reserves to entertain myself, much less y'll. I've thrown all my energy and all my focus into rehearsals and classes. Is it any wonder that I walk around like a dazed corpse when I get home?

I only have myself to blame for it, as Mum said. I chose to put myself in the these darn situations.

Excuse me while I take it all out on faceless people on irc.

Friday, July 12, 2002

at 7:30 PM
It's my party
I am this close - note the inch of space between my thumb and forefinger - from bawling like a baby. Everything's just ... aerrgh. There are eleven more sleeps to opening night, and this is the current state of play ...

1. Act II Finale has not been blocked.
   
2. There are blocks of unchoreographed dances.
   
3. The understudies are doing two performances - a matinee and a night performance. However, they are nowhere near ready to perform a matinee, let alone a night performance.
   
4. No lighting, no sound. Sam is tearing his hair out because he has to work out who'll wear the radio mikes and when. It does not help when there are only six radio mikes and goodness knows how many leads that need one.
   
5. Brett and his understudy are driving the music team to murderous thoughts because they're either always off-key, not paying attention to the beat, or plain just losing focus in the middle of a scene.
   
6. We haven't had a complete run through of the show. YET. Act I took a day and a half to run through completely.
   
7. I'm yelling at the boys, left right and center. Denning's retreated to his room, and Jason's brooding in front of tv.
   

Wednesday, July 10, 2002

at 12:01 PM
Everything that needed saying
That I'm still smiling after that quote, even if it's a little bittersweet, should tell y'll I'm getting on with it. Being frantically busy with rehearsals and lesson planning helps a great deal. I've barely the time to eat, much less sit and stare morosely at the ceiling. It's good.

Nothing is chance. I must remember that more often.

Last night, when the kids had gone, the team had the informal progress meetings that we always have after each rehearsal.
"We open in exactly two weeks. Two weeks today, at this time, we will be in makeup and costumes and stuff," said the Director, nodding bravely.
We glanced away from her.
"Um. Yeah. 2 weeks," she mumbled.
We stayed silent.

2 weeks.

Tuesday, July 09, 2002

at 4:06 AM
Behold
When you're labouring on without any decent sleep (yet again) and suffering hunger pangs because as usual, you were too busy to eat, "Mr. Pianist" sounds awfully like something else.

Monday, July 08, 2002

at 11:03 PM
Getting through

1. A tension headache, making me nauseous.
   
2. Unfinished dance choreography, and barely touched songs.
   
3. Actors who completely ignore my stage directions and serenely go their own way.
   
4. Missing and absent actors.
   
5. The rush, rush quality of days.
   
6. Carl, who wouldn't stop fidgeting and twirling something for one minute.
   
7. Unfinished sets, props to source, costumes organised and a floor to paint.
   
8. A crew that needed constant direction and supervision.
   
9. A Nick who hates his song with a passion, and thus has this absolutely tortured look on his face everytime he has to sing it - not to mention the constant fidgeting through the song.
   
10. Headache.
    

Sunday, July 07, 2002

at 10:46 PM
On one knee
I've been watching Royal National Theatre's production of Oklahoma!, directed by Trevor Nunn and starring the beautiful Hugh Jackman.

Think mid-Western twang, alrighty?
"Laurie, will you marry me?"
"Why would you wanna do that?"
"Uh, I dunno. Couldn't .. couldn't you think of a reason?"
"Ah. I haven't one handy right now."

What a proposal!

I was proposed to, a long time ago. I was 17, and I was asked on the escalators at Melbourne Central by a person who later delighted in calling me 'little schmuck' and driving me crazy.

"You mean you keep house, pay the bills and you cook too?!" Thanh said.
"Uh huh."
"Really?" I nodded, smiling shyly (I was a young, retiring flower then).
"Will you marry me?"

The way to a man's heart is definitely through his stomach.

at 5:32 AM
Seize it
The madness returns once more.
I am such a champion procastinator.

Next week (beginning 9am tomorrow, or earlier since I have to drop by uni first) is production week. An entire week of Fame rehearsals.
In two weeks, I begin teaching rounds, for three weeks. Once school gets out at 3.25pm, I have to rush manically from school to dress rehearsals, tech runs and panicky performers.
In three weeks, the show opens. That's an entire week of late nights and daily mood swings.
In four weeks, I will still be teaching, but it's the final week of it.
In five weeks, uni starts up again, and that's a completely different ball game.

So, there are a few possible scenarios.
One. I will come complaining and shrieking and yelling "I'm stressed, I'm stressed. Give me cigarettes or give me vodka. NOW." If that happens, best thing is just to humour me. Or even better, take me out to coffee and let me stare morosely into my cappucino or hot chocolate for an hour or two.
Two. I will be so tired that I wouldn't be able to string two words together. If that happens, no one will be able to get anything out of me without me being a waterpot all over them first. Arm yourselves with tissues and be prepared to give hugs.
Three. I will be so tense and wired, it'll be like having the Energizer Bunny around. Annoying, distracting, irritating. If that happens, someone'll have to forcibly drag me to bed and make me stay there.
Four. Tired, and so, very grumpy, very cranky. Positively Scrooge-like. If that happens, the boys must be kept away from me at all costs. We don't want to have broken chairs and vases and a dead clock again, do we now?

Know what?
I'm looking for more stuff to do. On top of uni, planned dance classes, leadership program, writing, living, and people.

I've had a field day with the reasoning behind that plan!

Carpe diem, my ass.

Saturday, July 06, 2002

at 5:01 PM
A reason, a season, a lifetime
You came into my life, perhaps for a reason. It seems likely you will remain for a season. Funny that, when I want you for a lifetime.

Behold the way our fine feathered-friend
his virtue doth parade.
Thou knowest not my dim witted friend,
the picture Thou hast made.
Thy vacant brow and Thy tousled hair
conceal Thy good intent.
Thou noble upright, truthful, sincere
And slightly dopey gent - you are..

My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart.
You looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet you're my favorite work of art.
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little bit weak
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
Don't change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine's day
- "My funny Valentine", Rodgers & Hart.

I feel you still. Isn't that strange?

Stay well, dearest, till we are both ready for another season together.

Friday, July 05, 2002

at 3:36 PM
An A
Do you know what is one of the most thrilling sounds in the world for me?
The sound of an orchestra warming up.

Half an hour before a show begins, the orchestra members wander into the pit, or on stage, one by one. As the audience walk in, they are greeted by instrumental runs, usually from the brasses, or the winds. I love the sound of the french horn as the player warms up. So warm, delightful. Then the clarinets, sometimes the flutes. The big double bass, as big as its player, sometimes bigger. Most of the violins are usually backstage. I hear them as I hurry past their dressing room on my way to the choir's.

By the time the First Violin walk onto the stage or into the pit, the rest of the orchestra are in their places. There is a short silence as he or she run their eye over the pit or stage, checking to see everything is in order, before indicating someone to play the A.

That full minute as the entire orchestra plays that A, to check the pitch, never fails to send shivers down my spine. I hear the promise of another world, and a suggestion of heaven, in that one note. It's magic.

When I am in the audience, I wriggle in my seat, poke whoever's with me in the ribs and grin excitedly. When I am behind the orchestra, in choir formation, I pretend indifference. It won't do to act like an excited child when one is about to perform classical works. But it is really very difficult not to wriggle in my seat and grin like a fool when I'm up there.

Then the conductor walks in. He bows to the audience, who clap politely, and turns to the orchestra. He lifts his baton, and looks expectantly at the orchestra. I hold my breath, anticipating that first release of sound. He draws out the moment, and takes the time to smile reassuringly at the choir. Then he gives the downbeat.

And magic happens.

Thursday, July 04, 2002

at 10:13 PM
Eh?
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Crap.
Can't you just tell I'm out of sorts?
Crap.

Thank goodness Insomniac's getting back soon. Her ears are infinitely open to my babblings.

at 2:53 PM
You're getting to be a habit with me
Access to super fast internet connection in the uni labs is so not good for me. And let's not get drawn into a discussion about big monitors, funky Mac keyboards, suave mice and a sparse computer lab. If I could live in here, I would.

"Did you drink an entire bottle of cola again?"
"No. Why?"
"You're hyper, again."
"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Weird!"
"What's weird?"
"I've been seeing dance steps in my head all day."
"And the point of that statement being?"
"I want to go dancing?"

I must go home now.

at 2:28 PM
Saturation point
There's no point in me going on and on and on about certain people. Everyone will just stare and lose interest because heck, they don't know these people like I do. They don't see these people like I do. They don't appreciate the works of these people like I do. But please, please, just let me get this out of my system.

Linda Eder.
Anthony Warlow.
Cheryl Barker.
Nichole Nordeman.
Baz Luhrmann.

These are my idols. These are my role models. They are my inspiration. They make me want to strive higher and higher. They make me want to attain perfection.

These people are consummate artists. Nothing less than perfection would do for them. I want to be just like them when I grow up.

Wednesday, July 03, 2002

at 9:42 PM
Ish, ish, ish
Dear Dore,

"Are you content with whatever you have in life now? You thirsting for more?"

What a question to post, darling! Such serious thoughts to think too. Are we all going through quarter-life crisises at the same time, dearie? I've been hearing loads of similar questions these past few months. Big headache, I tell you. Topik ni tak adalah hanya satu jawapannya, sayang. Kami tak akan beri kau jawapan yang akan memuaskan kau.

Yet, I can't brush off the questions lightly, for they are serious ones. But sweetie, could we leave off the serious questions and ponderings till we are all seated at a table, fortified with food and just a tiny bit of alcohol? I promise you, with everyone in the room, and the door locked, you would be able to drag answers from at least some of us. I name but a few - Jo, Seli, Grace, Cyn, Alice. I personally will smoke a cigarette, peer knowingly at you through the smoke and say in my most sophisticated, cynical tone, "Darling, been there, done that. I have the t-shirt, too. You'll get through. I did." Just so you'll feel better about your restlessness.

Cross my fingers, hope to die, dearie. That's what I'll do for you. But perhaps you might give me some time to pick up smoking first. I need to pry some cigarettes off some people to practice. They insist I should not pick up the habit because it's "not feminine" and really, "Girls shouldn't smoke". They tell me, "It stinks. You'll develop a bad cough. You'll loose all your top notes. No one'll kiss you. No, definitely no. You're not touching my cigarettes." All said with a cigarette in their hands. Is this or this not the age of equality, I ask you? Men are such controlling tyrants.

Unless your questions were rhetorical?

Livs

at 12:52 PM
Blast, blast and blast again
Ooooooh!
I lost some files. We all know how frustrating that is, don't we?
I'd been saving those files for a rainy day, too.
Sigh.

Tuesday, July 02, 2002

at 1:59 PM
May Jane come out to play?
I've been toying with the idea of a dinner party to celebrate the start of my 23rd year in being. Thinking of it, then discarding it because it'll take too much planning and effort. I have to plan the guest list, the menu, get the house ready, worry about if I had enough chairs or plates, wonder about where I should put people, what wine to serve with what food, what music to play. It requires mucho thinking and planning. Big headache. Yuck.

Besides, I'd only have that idiot that is my brother say to me, "What for? Do I have to be there? Why must I? I can't be bothered. No. I don't want to have dinner with your friends. Your friends are weird. No. No bloody way." No amount of nagging and persuading and threats, "I'm going to call Mum and get her to make you sit down and have dinner with us, " or even appeals to his sense of family, "You're my brother, Jason. Show some support, " would get him to budge. A definite damper on festivities.

Now you know why I call him the dolt, the idiot, the nincoompoop, noodlehead, bubble brained fool, jackass and a whole heap of pretty names.

It is a nice idea. I would love to have the different people in my life meet up and interact with each other. I can just imagine the conversations.

Superduperglorious Friend: Stop eating. You'll get fat.
Jason: I like getting fat.
Superduperglorious Friend: Alright then, I'll get you some more.
Jason: Don't forget the serviettes!
Livy: Jason, stop that!
Jason: What?!! She offered!

Guyfriend: So yeah, I like the Casino. But I always seem to lose.
The MCP: I'm into making money, rather than losing it.

Okay, so Guyfriend and the MCP wouldn't exactly be kindred spirits. In fact, they'll bore each other senseless. Adelaide might turn up her pretty nose at earthy Belle. Domestic Shazza would find silent, cynical Insomniac offputting. Everyone would think Ian "I enjoy listening to really obscure music" completely nutty instead of incredibly intellectual.

Hmm ...

I like to collect around me a motley crew with hugely varying interests and personalities. It keeps me on my feet, and learning constantly. Everyone of them are 'such jewels'. It makes for lively dinner parties, that's for sure.

Maybe I'll have one after all. Just a small one perhaps. It'll be fun.

Monday, July 01, 2002

at 3:07 AM
I've seen twilight
For all that I've been pretending I'm fine, in truth, perhaps I am not. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I am tired, but I just don't seem to want to close my eyes and lose myself in sleep. I sit up in bed, wide awake at 2 in the morning. Knowing I have things to do when the sun is up, I lie in bed, trying to meditate my way to oblivion, but I can't slow the thinking to a meditative level. My heartrate stays up. I can feel my pulse race faster and faster as I struggle to reach some kind of meditative state.

If I sleep, I will dream. I don't want to dream. I'm afraid of the dreams. The dreams unsettle me. I wake up from the dreams, dreading the day, and wanting to hide from the world. My neck is beginning to feel the strain as my head begins to feel heavier and heavier. Some days it feels like my neck won't be able to support my head for much longer. I avoid looking at my eyes in the mirror. I know I won't like the look of them.

The screams I know that are there are building up, slowly and surely. The dullness that is in my heart indicate there is still pain there, buried in layers. The valley on my left neck ridge is slightly deeper than before. There is a line on my neck that is very pronounced. I am afraid of sleep. My headaches are returning. I don't like food anymore. If I look carefully in the mirror at the area above my head, I would find that my aura has diminished and is darker than usual.

I know the signs. I know when I'm heading towards emotional detachment again. I know when I'm destroying myself from inside because I cannot seem to let go and allowing the fear to take over. I know when I'm hiding myself again, and locking all the doors behind me. I know what is happening to me, as clear as day.

I know what I need to be well again. A darkened room, a box of tissues, plenty of space, a bucket just in case, and a support team to catch me when I am down. But I don't have the luxury of these things right now.

I am way overdue for a regression.

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