Being a woman

Pole dancing has thrown up a lot of questions for me as I watch the teacher gyrate in her bikini bottoms on stage, bodies turned into references of 'boobs' and 'butt' and wondering why I can't arch my back the way she does. I'm in exactly the class that teenage me would have frowned upon, wondering why our bodies matter more than our minds, wondering why physical attributes outweigh my thoughts, actions, dreams and hopes.

But isn't that selfish too? Why do we seem to discriminate against one and not the other? The socially acceptable answer to someone calling themselves fat is, 'love yourself, society sucks, you should be comfortable with yourself rather than answering to someone else'. But no one sticks up the same way if a hot person were stupid, in fact we seem to agree to the affirmation of stereotypes.

Random thoughts that I haven't quite sorted through yet, but anyway, pole dancing. It's weirdly self-affirming which is scary because it really started out, and still is a manner of totally objectifying women as nothing but sexual objects. However tables feel like they turn when it becomes something a woman willingly does, as in, it isn't for the pleasure of men, but for our own pleasure. There's something quite liberating about a thumping bass and hair swinging that I guess most of society would frown upon.

But maybe we should just be less uptight and celebrate our bodies in the best way possible.

The other issue that has cropped up recently is that I am tired of hedging everything I eat. Every friggin thing that I see needs to be run through an internal assessment of 'shit I'm gna get fat', 'have I reached caloric deficit today' and 'do you know how many burpees this equals' before it's put in my mouth. It's actually quite exhausting, and these decisions happen at every single meal. Why why why why why?

I'm often sick of hearing women who are healthy and gorgeous say, 'oh I'm fat' or 'oh I didn't eat rice today', this perennial fear of being fat and unattractive haunts us all the time and it's becoming rather loathsome. Granted, I will probably continue to do it and complain about it, but I often think when I'm 40 or 50 looking back I'm going to scoff at myself too. Sheesh.

Under a starry sky

Sipadan Jan 2014

I am facing a dotted night sky, as clear as only island skies can be. Free from smog and light pollution that blanket a city skyline, the stars come out to play, sparkling lights on a black canvas, irreplaceable by the flashing bulbs of the tallest tower.

Waves lap back and forth, surging, rippling sounds as they crash into the stilts below me and the band plays on with a screech, Coldplay's Yellow suits the mood to a tee. One of their many hodgepodge covers ranging from Richie Ren's "Dui Mian de Nu Hai" to Italian songs such as "La Bamba". Around me the village folks have come to their Saturday night Zouk aka Uncle Chang's, half drunk off cheap alcohol and dancing to Gangnam Style. You know you've made it when a village in the middle of the ocean knows how to dance your dance.

Shoulders acheing from hauling friggin heavy equipment, BCD's and the whole gamut of equipment, oh and my own fats and weightbelt obviously. Putting on flippers with equipment hanging half off the side of the boat and your butt balancing precariously on the edge while wielding your spit filled goggles and shoving your regulator in your mouth before entering the water upsidedown counts as an intense workout in its own right. So does exiting to get onto the boat and trying to put your tank into the right hole.

Other than that, pretty decent dives, but still didn't live up to expectations. I was expecting barracuda's by the thousands and big whales or something, but obviously life doesn't work like that. Got acquainted with tons of turtles and white tip reef sharks though, and a lot of beautiful wall coral. Stunning stuff, like hovering above a garden. 7 dives in, and back into the groove! Also staring into the vast unknown below and around you is totally scary. Utterly out of elements. Human's are so useless in water.

Good company, decent room, toilet and food and this was a fun trip. Relaxing tanning times and no sun burns, woohoo. Deep conversations under night skies and acquaintances become the people who know more about you than some of your lifelong buddies do. Life is often such a mixture of circumstances. Interactions as we trundle along on the tracks that overlap briefly back and forth, forward and back. 

花樣年華

Siempre que te pregunto Que cuándo cómo y dónde Tú siempre me respondes Quizás, quizás, quizás Y así pasan los días Y yo desesperando Y tú, tú, contestando Quizás, quizás, quizás Estás perdiendo el tiempo Pensando, pensando Por lo que más tú quieras Hasta cuando, hasta cuando

I've been wanting to watch "In the Mood for Love" for ages especially since it has spilled into common culture and passing comments of "one of those" movies, like "Farewell my Concubine", or "Raise the Red Lantern".

It was definitely a slow film, but sometimes you don't need words, action or conversations in order to entertain. After all, passing through life, I can't help but figure that reality is defined by the silences. Like walking through a foreign city by yourself and being silent while the noises of traffic, people and activity overwhelms. Surprising isn't it? That the island of quiet can exist. I often feel that I'm quietest when I'm in the midst of activity.

So this movie captures that perfectly, those silent walks to a quick takeaway. The rain and conversations and routine. Completely mundane, but her Cheongsams make me wish they were common day dresses nowadays. The absence and pain of  a cheating spouse turned slightly comical when they were re-enacting the scenes of confrontation. Where imitating the person that is hurting you becomes the only salvation to get through reality.

But the ending was something else. When the word flashed on the screen, I was left with the stunned silence that comes with completely unfulfilled endings. Seemingly no one is ever happy by the end of chinese movies.

That's life isn't it? Where two people's threads of life connect and dissipate, overlap and diminish. What you're left with is nostalgia. νόστοςἄλγος.

But, oh, so, restrained! Throughout.

And I'm missing that thawing, renewal of warmth when walking out in a thin-ner jacket is acceptable and fingers and toes no longer freeze and lectures are acceptably missed for a sit out in the diag and coffee at Sweetwaters with a book and a slice of marvelous cake.

Jetset Lifestyles

New lifegoal=learn how to fly

I have found my latest motivation to earn money, jetset weekends to wherever I want to with no thought of money. (good god, I'm so far removed from YHO days that it's kind of embarassing =.=')

Weekend Bali trip on the tab of colleague with cancelled family vacations = the sort of lifestyle that I can only dream of living.

Friday excitement building and leaving for airport at 5pm. Buzz was inimitable and we were practically bouncing out of our seats around 4pm.

Got into Bali at 11:30 pm that night and was poolside by 12:30 am, mojitos in the pool and rose petal sprinkled bathtubs at 3 am.

The Istana

Woke up the next morning to a sunny beautiful day cliffside in Bali. Routine went something like this- breakfast, swim, BBQ lunch, massage, TV, capturing sunsets. Absolutely fantastic holiday if I must say so myself.

Cliffside views

Hot stone massages are also very different, not sure hot rocks suddenly landing on my legs constitutes relaxation, but it was good!

Amazing sunsets, missed the actual sun-setting by minutes but got fantastic watercolour clouds instead.

Sunsets

Ku De Ta for dinner and clubbing after, bloody expensive Risotto, delicious Peach Bellini, guess it's all in the vein of expensive holidays! Clubbing at h'uu after, however music wasn't really up to the tastebuds (trashy Ke$ha anytime) so decided to head back earlier.



Next day we did a little bit of shopping and walking around in Seminyak, new bikini purchased! Then off to the airport and an end to a fantastic, refreshing weekend. <3

Love this action shot!

Panorama

Finally

When you really concentrate on getting something done you can rule the world...

2 shelves, some lights, paint and a wall decal and my room feels oh so cozy and..mine. Like it's my taste and choices =). Now to finish that cross stitch!

Tyre lifts, sprints, sideways gorilla walking-bootcamp owned! Now to a 4 day weekend, ring making classes, waterfall adventures and bliss. So happy =)

Built

I want a build a house made out of the books of imaginations and mirrors that
echo the thoughts of life and dreams, I will paint it a myriad of rainbow
colours in shades with sprinkles of glitter and at the waters'
edge of a deep pool I will dive into it from the second
floor balcony that is reminiscent of Jasmine's palace
in Agrabah with a setting sun painting the sky
with the beauty of heaven's brushstrokes

as scented Frangipani whifts
through the
air
and time slows,

just for a little 

while.

So why?

Sitting in a booth at Shivz, one of the waiters asked me what I liked about Tango with quite a mystified look on his face as I was waiting for Ogie to finish his first class. I didn't know how to enunciate the way that this dance made me feel, or why it drew me in, thinking about it myself, it's still hard to really put into words, 'why tango?'

Maybe I'd have to bring him back to September 2009 where a very harried me was running from Sushi dinner at Miki's, to the Union Ballroom on a end-of-summer weather night in Ann Arbor, post swimming. Entering the vast ballroom with flipflops and being asked to walk backward isn't really a good combo for Tango.

Or then the next week, learning about Ochos for the very first time in the cafe on the ground floor of the Union and meeting Phillip.

Or continuous lessons in 3rd floor Mason hall with the wonderful people from Mtango.

Or first milongas in Novembers with bubble tea at hand and darkened Vitosh Guest House.

Or Fire&Ice noobs and practicas and milongas where all one could do is stare in astonishment at the talent on show.

Or Triangulo on a May night in NYC with old New Yorkers with stories to tell.

Or last milongas at the Phoenix Center post Indian makans and giggles.

Or flying back to the root of it all 11 months post graduation, back to where it all began, back to Tango with the old guards.

All the leaders who have taught me so much, and the followers who are there for gossip, entertainment, makans.

How do I sum that all up to him? All I said was, it was a great dance =). That is all.

Sober Clown

I’m glad you’re happy now,
I know you did what you had to do,
It’s just that my road is clear of traffic I’m going walking,
But I wish to God I was walking with you,

And I’ve been spending too much time alone,
I’ve gripped the fact now that I’m on my own,
Brooding too much on memories,
And I’ll admit that I was kind of bitter to the bone,

Gifts of poetry lay suspended in the air,
I watched them all go by,
I didn’t even care,
Gifts of poetry, lie suspended in the air,
When I’m back on my feet,
I’m gonna strip that orchard bare,

Sun up and down,
And then the moon’s around,
And all the while their watching us, we’re in different towns,
You were a Christmas song you made me merrily on high,
But correct me if I’m wrong,
Love will make you cry,
And my eyes were always open,
But I had sleep in the way,
Like webs of frost on forest walks on winter’s day,
And as a rain cloud paints a mountain in my dream,
I wanna wake as the mountain, so the mist will be my dreams,

Gifts of poetry lay suspended in the air,
I watched them all go by, I didn’t even care,
Gifts of poetry, lie suspended in the air,
When I’m back on my feet,
I’m gonna strip that orchard bare,

Through domino wind, bird scream through the sky,
He’s one tear away, and two from the reason why,
And as the bird glides over the water’s pulse,
Into the mist, I wish like it to be lost,
We all get down,
But the drunk band sound was just the sober clown,
Love is a melody,
Which can change so unexpectantly,

Gifts of poetry lay suspended in the air,
I watched them all go by, I didn’t even care,
Gifts of poetry, lie suspended in the air,
When I’m back on my feet,
I’m gonna strip that orchard bare

Oh, sheer poetry.