The hardest choices are made easy once you set your mind to it.

OKAY. FIRST UP. I KNOW YOU ALL REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY DON'T WANT TO SEE TWO THINGS ON MY BLOG: one, sappy stuff; and two, preachy religious stuff.

But today marks a new threshold for me, and I really really think I should dedicate this post to the Big Guy up there, and this time I can't really do that without bringing up the sappy stuff.

So at the risk of being discovered by unwanted eyes, at the risk of losing the little (or no) cred my blog has left, at the risk of making YOU, the reader, choke/vomit/have your day ruined, I shall BLOG IT.


Sorry. On with the blog.


* Why today marks a new threshold for me: today I have finally done what I've always told myself I should do, been what I keep telling myself I should be.

Remember I said I was leading myself into another heartbreak? I was almost right.

A really obvious line on a really obvious somebody's msn nickname caught my eye, so I figured he was depressed. Over a girl. Very likely (and later proven to be) another girl, not me.

And I didn't know whether I should or shouldn't say anything. So I prayed such:

Lord, please give me the courage to talk to him; give me the wisdom to say the right words; give me the compassion, the will to be a friend. Let me be a friend, don't let my jealousy get in the way. Give me the right words.

Then I proceeded to type. I'm not going to put the actual conversation here; that would just be asking for it. But the gist of it goes something like:

I tell him I know he's depressed and ask him why. He tells me he failed his driving test for the n-th time and shortly afterward his girlfriend dumped him. But wait: it's not the being dumped that's bothering him (actually saved him the bother), it's the fact that he got a new girlfriend less than a few hours later and he's expecting (as I do, and many probably would) a blow-up from the ex due to the abnormally short time frame in between. Not to mention he feels a bit strange about it (whether he knows it or not, it's probably guilt for the reason mentioned above).

So we went on to talk about random nonsense, coming back to the topic every now and then so he could pour out his frustrations about the multiple driving tests and the taboo timeframe, and I could give him some advice, some real advice, and some words of sympathy and comfort. And every time funny thoughts started seeping in (eg: he's changed girlfriends at least twice since we split a year ago and I'm still here apparently in mourning for no good reason), I ask the Big Guy up there to not let "me" take over, and just continue being the necessary friend.

My core piece of advice was this: Move on (and in my head I thought: I did - or tried to at least), let it off the system into some game or whatnot, coz his new girlfriend would want his attention the next time they met. And take a long sabbatical from driving tests.

I think it was the nonsense that cheered him up though. Apparently he's taking my advice and playing dota now.


The best bit of all this is: I never really felt too upset the entire time. In fact there were many times I could really laugh out loud. And I genuinely feel happy that he's feeling better.


Some of you may remember my little pseudo-philosophy: Love is a choice; to stay away from someone you really want to have beside you, or to stay with the person you loathe, or to stay close to a person as a friend knowing you will never be more, no matter how painful it is, just so the said person can breathe a little easier, can smile, can have any upset alleviated just a little.

Today, I finally did it. And I sincerely thank the Big Guy up there for it.*

Skill = (2Talent + 10Training) X 5Showmanship

This post is late in coming, but here it is at last.


Last sunday, the matriarch took me to see the siberian tiger.

Yes, the siberian tiger. No, not the one that growls. This one sings.

The name's Dmitri Hvorostovsky. Apparently my mum's heard him sing twice before, just not here in Singapore.

The soprano was okay, but the juicy stuff is about the baritone, so...

I was seated in the 2nd row (extremely close to the stage, as in neck-achingly close), so I got a good view of a nice old cellist in the front row of the orchestra who was having a spectacular ball of a time in his own little world, breaking out now and then just to make sure he was still in pace with the conductor. While the singing was absent he was the most entertaining thing on stage.

Don't get me wrong. The orchestra is good. If I can sit in the 2nd row from the stage, and find the symphony pieces interesting, and also be able to preserve my eardrums while audience in the furthest balcony could still hear the orchestra well, the orchestra must very very good.


Anyway, back to Hvorostovsky. He's known as the siberian tiger because:

1. He's got a hot bod (I think my mother reviewed more about this than the singing)
2. He's graceful and dashing yet edgily dangerous, highly charismatic and sophisticated yet masculine, almost primitively so.
3. He's got a head of silky, shiny, pearl-smooth platinum hair. As I gather, his hair turned white early on in his years. Hasn't done too much damage. If anything, it probably enhanced his features exponentially.
4. Wait... I know there was another point... oh yeah, he's a very smooth and rich baritone.

When he first walked on stage, I thought he was pretending to be suave. Over the course of the night I realised I was mistaken: he wasn't pretending to be suave. He was suave. Not that it was not deliberate though.


Before we move on too far though, I need to tell you about the "magic moment". See, he walked on stage, all suave and dashing and smiles and looking into the audience. Then he caught my eye.

If it had just been that, it wouldn't have been anything special, to be honest. I'm a stage person too, and although I'm very, very, very, very, very mediocre, I know how looking at the crowd works. And like all other mysteries, once unraveled, loses a bit of it's original mystic.

But, in case you haven't figured by now, it didn't just stop at the part where our line of sight connected.

Thing is, I was clapping, as is usual when the orchestra or the singer takes to the stage, but I wasn't smiling. I wasn't upset or unhappy or anything, but I really had no reason to smile right then. As in, literally, there was nothing to smile about just then, unless I wanted to be polite, but as one person in a sea of clapping audience I just couldn't be bothered.

And yet for some strange reason he noticed me enough to see that I was more or less expressionless. And I know this because of the events that followed in the next five seconds.

His gaze stayed on me long enough (two or three seconds more than is normal) for me to suspect something, during which he maintained an unwavering smile that had nonetheless changed from one that was greeting the audience warmly to one that was curious/questioning/meant to replace a nudge (pick one). So, half doubting myself, I obliged slowly (very, I might add... I was rather hesitant; I mean, how could I be sure he was looking at me? I was no acquaintance) to give a miniscule polite smile.

Upon the actual formation of my smile, the corners of his mouth immediately went up a quarter of an inch, and he pulled his head back slightly with every show of being absolutely pleased with himself (there may or may not have been a silent message of, "There you go," in there), before turning back to the audience and ignoring me for the rest of the show.

There you have it. My "magic moment" in a bit too much detail. Anyway, on with the blog.


Matriarch says that his voice has changed dramatically. That it used to be younger and more innocent. Well, I don't know much about that, but his voice now definitely has a dark, layered depth. But I agree with matriach that it is still, to that end, a lover's voice, not a villian's. I thought those brooding tunes he sang were about some love story that was hanging at a climax, facing a certain danger, until I heard from mother dear that he was supposed to be singing the part of the villianous Prince Igor.

Oops.


Still, I think I still liked his Figaro snippets best. I don't know how he mixes charisma into comedy, but he does (just in case you've no idea, some opera singers actually do moves on stage, even if not in a musical (no, I didn't mean dancing)). Especially his duet with the soprano. FUNNY!! And I don't even understand the language.


Oh, before I forget though, there's something to be said about the soprano. When she first came on stage, there were some (quite a few) idiotic people that had come in late, and were straggling to their seats (front row, mind). The conductor was about the start the orchestra, but she had a few quiet words with him, whereupon he turned round and gave a quiet but audible, "Ah," then leant on the conductor's stand to wait for the stragglers as requested. Meanwhile the rest of the audience had some light-hearted laughs at the stragglers' expense.

That move was at once awfully considerate and professional. I must say, I was impressed.



Now, today (well, yesterday) was the last day of salsa class for the term, and what a ball.

First, an update on last week's salsa class: Our regular teacher for the term couldn't make it, so my original dance teacher came in. And he said his "hi"s and greetings. Then he saw me and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise as he recognised me and said,"HEY~~~" So I got a few moments' attention from everybody while I smiled and waved back. Plus, during class the teach complimented me on my ability to... now how did he put it to the class... "... move your booty! Like that lady over there!" So I stepped out of class being awfully pleased about being particularly remembered by the salsa teacher. I must have been entertainment the past two courses.

Today, he took over again, so lesson was still fun. Gave me a private tuition session when I was stumbling with one of the steps.

I surprised myself, and somebody else (one of the better dancers there), when I discovered I had been doing styling unconsciously and very comfortably.

Toward the end of lesson, when we were all chugging to the music, the teach went over to his assistants resting on one side of the room (as fate would have it, I was once again close enough to hear some of what was being said) and started exclaiming, "She's a good dancer isn't she?"

Who's a good dancer?

As I was being lead into a cross-body turn, I caught a glimpse of the teacher pointing quite ungraciously at yours truly.

So once again, I stepped out of class feeling awfully pleased with having taken special mention.


*One more bonus point comes from the illusion that a certain somebody might be interested again. He lingered at the gym counter after class to ask me if I was going for the salsa social next Thursday. And hinted he'd be there. I'd tell my beating heart to be still, but you and I both know there's no point recently*

Never mind if you lose your step; keep dancing.

This entry is now officially describing events occurring yesterday night, despite it being a few hours ago.

Good salsa dancers make the girls feel SEXY.

And yesterday night, I was the sexiest girl alive... twice.


The first guy that danced with me was probably about 20 years my senior, but gosh can he MOVE. And he was a brilliant lead. His style was completely different, so it took some getting used to, but after that it was EXCELLENT. He could slow the pace and stretch every move, then pick up the speed again without compromising the strength in his lead. I never thought I could feel as sexy as that. First time I felt like a complete female tasmanian devil.


Coming out of me, I think you'll all agree it was some extraordinary experience.


Next guy was good too, but stuck more closely to the moves and style I was familiar with, though loosely. It was kind of the enjoyable experience I'd been expecting before. Provided me with some rest before the next one though. Not that he tried very hard. Same school, so he roughly knew my level.


And then came the other guy. Thing is, I met this guy twice before: once at the same place, and another time at the salsa club. But since then his style has evolved tremendously.

Same as the first guy, he's not afraid to slow the speed, and while dancing with him I wasn't afraid to shine (salsa term), even when my steps were severely limited by lack of practice and thinking time. Made me feel extremely sensual. However, dancing with him, it's no longer about showing off the girl; it's about impressing the girl, so he took centre stage most times. But still. Brilliant.


Mark my words, this was better that dirty dancing, even.


Just as a side note, I'd come to loco night with aches and pains everywhere from my workout yesterday, and after salsa I feel stretched in those same places, but no pain. And it feels good.


Should I get salsa shoes? I know I'm glad I wore that skirt today, though I wish I had used it more flamboyantly during my shines.


Girls: Salsa is the best thing you could ever learn. You don't have to think, for the most part. It's the guys doing the thinking, and you still get to feel really good about yourself after that.

Boys: If you can dance like my first dance partner for the night, you can win the heart of any girl. And even if you don't, you should be satisfied with the proximity during the dance.