or at least, maybe it's just the incessant emptying of my wallet that's driving me mad. Just YESTERDAY alone i spent 40 plus dollars on transport (ok, admittedly, half of that was on an ez link top up, but the mere fact that i'm beginning to resort to twenty-dollar top ups instead of tenners kind of speaks for itself). the last ten bucks of the day--night--morning--whatever-- was a total UNNECESSARY necessity; to elaborate, i took the penultimate bus 10 from kent ridge at 11.30, 11.45 and stayed awake in the godawfully warm and stuffy and motion-sickness-inducing vehicle till just past siglap, where i promptly fell asleep and woke up in tampines.
clever, clever. the last bus 10 in the opposite direction had left at 11.02pm, so i was stuck 5 bus stops away from home at 12.42am. wonderful.
so i cabbed. sigh. i hate the midnight surcharge.
cabbed to school too because after driving that morning i came back home and collapsed in a semi-coma, awaking in a mad rush to realise i was going to be late for dance. so i took the train to buona vista and then cabbed in. haiz. for that short trip? 6 bucks.
i should stop whining. maybe i can gush about my costumes instead. oh, or rather, the lack thereof, and the lack of time i have to make/buy any, never mind the lack of inspiration. hahah.
i'm sorry if i sound crabby. i'm not. i'm actually loving-- or at least peacefully co-existing-- with my life the way it is now. cringe-worthy moments aside-- like when i *wince* happily forget about wikipedia templates and shades of blue and show up in eyeblinding azure instead of blue blue-- or when i CAN'T CATCH STEPS *curses creatively for a few minutes*-- it's all good.
i'm nowhere near good enough to dance for a living, but that doesn't stop me from making dance my life, my centre, my raison d'etre. :D yes, aphorism-spouting.
i haven't been awesome-- not as a daughter, not as a friend, and definitely not as a sister. I guess this is sort of the price i pay-- for not being good enough, for being a procrastinator, for my temper. I can't attribute all my failings to dance (e.g. lack of time making me short-tempered or selfish or whatever)-- especially not when i've felt more than once that maybe it's my only redeeming factor at times.
i'm not looking forward to when dr is over and life goes back to my previous definition of normal-- a normal that i am afraid will seem all too bland, all too hectic, a mad paper chase of legal drudgery (in more ways than one).
there is so much more i need to say-- so much more about what dance has made me think about, about the moments when things fall together, when things fall apart, when suddenly the music finds meaning (or i find meaning) or the way we all manage to find our own personal reasons for dancing. there is 31st august to blog about, school to talk about, quiet trips home on 10 in the lonely darkness as i pass kallang stadium or on the mrt as i pass a certain house in kembangan, as i stop to mark a moment of remembrance and to, in a way, dedicate part of the dance to him.
there is the thought of dr, coming up so so so fast. there is the thought of never never never being good enough.
so much worth fighting for