Acting

What do you think about acting? Well, I attended an acting workshop this past holiday and it was great.  Although I showed up late on the last day, the performance day, I made it anyway. I got to act with the rest of the class. Show some of our parents and other visitors what we learnt in the 3 days of workshop.

Our 19-year-old teacher Tess was amazing. She was young, of course, beautiful and very talented. She also has a very interesting background story to tell, but I'm not going to talk about that. She is shameless when it comes to acting and that's how we all ought to be when we act. But she also takes it very seriously. It's her passion I guess.

Instead of just describing to you what I learnt, I'm going to tell you (from my point of view) how acting felt like. I was the oldest in the class, yet again. But I'm pretty sure I had the least stage experience. Yeah, I've done Public Speaking and performed on stage some times before, but that was me singing. Acting is a totally different experience altogether. Like I said, you got to be shameless. Do you really think I'm shameless? Well, those of you who know me that is. Maybe I am, sometimes. But not all the time.

On the last day, I arrived at the English centre towards the end of the morning after leaving my CF outing slightly early. I was told that I stunk, but nothing less was expected of my new found friends, of course. Spending 3 days expressing ourselves through acting really brings people together, you know? I was excited that I was still able to be part of the activities later that day.

We had very limited time that day, so we only did 3 improvised scenes that could also be described as games. We had no scripts, nothing rehearsed, and that's what we all had voted on the day before. We all agreed we worked better without the pressure of memorised lines and pre-rehearsed body movements and so on.

We kicked start the 'performance' with a game we like to call 'Who I am'. This game is a little hard to explain so I'm just going to move on to the next game we played. 'Hesitation'. We'd have a scene and audience members would have to shout out random words while we were acting. We would then have to use those words in our scene no matter how random they were. I played a little girl at the zoo with my mom(Celine) and a zoo keeper(Shakeel). Some of the random words we were given were :balloon, tiger, lion, dinosaur, airport, candy, giraffes, crazy....
The next scene was between my sister and 3 other friends(Wei Hong, Zainul, Jessica). They were at the hospital. My sister played the patient. Words they got from the audience were: water, lunch, injection, McDonalds, emergency, doctor, camera....

Ok, maybe those game weren't that fun, but like I said, lack of time. The last game was kinda successful, in my eyes at least. 'Magic Chairs'. In normal circumstances, we would have 7 chairs, one for each student at different situations/locations. And once we chose to sit on them, we'd have to create a character with a motivation of being at that location or in that situation. The character must also have a good background story. But because we had limited space in the room, we used different places on the ground instead of chairs. I'm not going to be long winded and tell you all 7 stories, so I'll just tell you mine and my sisters. Oh, and we were asked questions by Tess about our characters, it was part of the exercise.

My sister was put beside a swimming pool. So this is what she came up with.... She was a single mother. Husband wanting a divorce. She was currently watching her 8-year-old daughter swimming in the pool. Her husband wanted a divorce because he had troubles with their daughter. According to her, he often called her daughter a beast. Her daughter shared the same distaste for her father. She was depressed. She acted emotionless and was thinking about the future while watching her daughter swim.
Nice story, huh?

Mine? Well, I'd say I've got nothing on my sister. I loved her imagination and her story. I was put in the playground. I chose to be a 26-year-old character named Lily. I was swinging lightly on the swings in the middle of the night. Why? Because I'm confused about my recent heartbreak. I was dating two guys at once. Had them both wrapped around my fingers and took full advantage of that. The 2 guys were also related, as uncle and nephew. Zeke and Jack were their names. Zeke the nephew, Jack the uncle. Jack was my childhood best friend that turned into something more whilst Zeke was a nice guy I met in high school and had dated since. I dated both simultaneously until I was caught. Then, I lost them both. My fault. The play ground held special meaning for me because I used to play in the sand there with Jack when we were just kids and Zeke and I played on the swings there together as older kids, always competing to see who could swing higher. I knew I was in love with them both and losing them, broke my heart. My own fault.
So that's my made up story. It was fun.

Now, I'm anxious for my acting debut. Well, it's sort of like an acting debut. My English class is having their annual performance day on the 25th of June at Tropicana Golf Club. It's so soon!! I have a part singing with the 4-year-olds in the opening act. My main part is playing a wife in a play title 'Bad Dream'. In the play, I have a very arrogant husband that has little care for the people around him, especially the people he works with. In his dream, I leave him and he comes to his senses when he awakens. From then on, he changes his behaviour, especially when treating other people. Cliche, I know. And I've got lines to remember! Trust me, acting isn't easy, especially script acting. I find singing much easier, thank you. Haha. We'll just see how I do, huh? I'm also understudying for a mother role but it's unlikely I'd have to play that too. This is my first year being exposed to activities like these and I'm having the time of my life. I look forward to it almost every week.

There's a lot more I can say about these Saturday classes I've started taking this year. Creative Writing and Public Speaking class is a blast. I wish I could join the English Literature classes but they're on Wednesday and I have extra curricular at school on that day thanks to the government. Oh well, we can't have it all right? Will update you more on my performing progress. I wish you could see me having fun acting as well as singing, mom:) 

A little info: I have a band, an acoustic band named 'Blueberry Cheesecake'. And pls, pls read the pieces AW writes here on my blog. I absolutely love them and AW inspires me so. I write too, just not as well. I love AW to bits and make sure you comment on her story 'HOME'. :)

Home

      I impatiently drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I turned my gaze back on the road where the traffic seemed to stretch out for miles far beyond my view. I sighed and turned on the radio. A familiar tune filled the car. “I’m coming home, I’m coming home. Tell the world I’m coming home…” Despite my frustration, my lips slid up into a smile. Indeed, I was going home.

      I lived in Damansara Utama, a small housing area in the huge city of Petaling Jaya. However, due to work circumstances, I was forced to move out of the state. I’ve always wanted to go back home, I missed my parents. I often dreamt of returning home to be greeted by the warm welcome and embrace of my parents, yet I never seemed to be able to find the time to do so. You see, I work in the advertising line where life is all about date lines, date lines and more date lines. The purple-blue rings smoothed like smudges of dirt under my eyes simply prove how much sleep I get. I’m perpetually fighting off sleep and have to down at least 10 cups of coffee and sometimes a few cans of red bull to keep me awake.

      As the traffic finally starts to ease out, I reach for the can of red bull on the passenger seat and take a sip. Home. The word brings back so many memories. Home is where you get all your “firsts”- your first word as a baby, your first tooth, your first day of school, your first sports day. Now, that’s an interesting memory, sports day. Inside my mind, my memory box unveils itself and the memory of my first sports day begins to unfold.

      I was 8. It was the annual Puay Chai Primary School sports day. A few weeks before, teacher had chosen me to represent my house in a running event. Ever since that day, I would plead my mom to take me to the nearby park to practice running. I loved it. My brown hair bounced in waves on my shoulders as the wind whistled in my ear. After weeks of practice, the big day finally arrived. I could’ve sworn there were ants in my pants, I felt so nervous. “Students involved in the running event, please take your places on the tracks,” announced the principal. I pressed my lips together to conceal my nervousness. As I stole a glance at my contenders, a fresh spasm of fear leapt through me and I inhaled deeply to calm myself down. I scanned the crowd and looked to my mom for reassurance. She gave me a thumbs up and that was all I needed to feel confident again.

      The gun shot sounded and I pounced forward. The crowd was cheering, yet all I could hear was the sound of my adrenaline pumping. It battered in my ears, pounded in my head and drummed in my throat. Every step sent jolts up my body. I saw the finishing line, it was less than 5 steps away. I can make it, I can win, I thought. Just then, I tripped on my own foot and fell. My face closed down, like dominoes falling, my expression went from hope to defeat. The other runners, oblivious to my fall, ran past, vying for the grand prize. My knees were scratched up and my palms were red from trying to break the fall, but that wasn’t what hurt the most. Tears welled up in my eyes and I pressed my lips flat to stop myself from breaking down in public. I looked to my mom expecting disappointment to be knitted on to every inch of her face. Instead, my mom gave me a big smile and continued to cheer on. “You can do it, Emily!” my mom cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. I gave a toothless grin, got up and finished the race. I may not have won, but that day, I learnt something of much higher value- my mom believed in me and she still does. Plus, it’s not always about winning, it’s the journey that you gain the most from.

      The memory folded itself back into the memory box and I was back on the road. To my surprise, I was already in Petaling Jaya. In fact, my car had turned a corner into a very familiar road- my secondary school. 

      I pulled up my car by the school gate for a moment and wound down the windows. I perched my sunglasses on the top of my head to get a clearer view of the school. Nothing much seemed to have changed. Besides the new coat of paint, the layout of the school was still the same as before. I took a breath of the school air. Perfume from the teachers, oil from the canteen and the scent of puppy love entered my nostrils and filled my lungs. Let’s not kid ourselves here, we’ve all had at least one crush in secondary school if not more than that.

      Another memory popped up from the memory box. This time in the form of a book. Pages flipped and flew and then it stopped. I rested my chin on the open window and the little time machine in my mind brought me back to my secondary school years. I was in form 2. Being in the older group lo students in the afternoon session, I thought I had seen it all. Clearly, I was being naïve, there were still countless lessons I had yet to learn, one of them being heart break.

      His name was Alex. He was of average height with a muscular physique. He had mahogany brown eyes that could light up the room, an aquiline nose, high cheek bones and a mop of dark wavy hair. His cheeky smile revealed a set of perfectly aligned pearly whites. Being of mixed heritage, he inherited his father’s olive complexion and his mother’s thick, long eye lashes. Although I consider myself a cheery soul, his genuine bonhomie made me look like a miserable kid that didn’t get her ice cream. Even though he was new at the school, he soon became the heart throb of every girl- every girl in school except me.

       He was placed in my class and as the monitor, I was assigned to be his “tour guide” around the school. I really didn’t mind, he seemed like a nice chap. As I took him around school and explained the rules and regulations, he listened attentively. Normally, these sort of things would have a soporific effect on students, I have to admit, I had to stifle a few yawns myself, but this guy seemed genuinely interested. As we talked more and got to know each other better, I found out he liked history and aspired to become a lawyer. I guess that explained why he was so interested in the history of the school. He was laid back and easy going, he walked with the confident loose-limbed swagger of youth. He also loved acoustic music just as I. We clicked and soon enough became best friends.

      The pages of the book flipped vigorously again and opened up at my form 5 year. How fast time flew was a wonder to me. Alex and I managed to maintain our relationship as best friends. Though I was often warned of the dangers of platonic relationships, I personally found no harm in it. After all, it was never going beyond the borders of best friends, or so I thought.

      We studied hard and later found out that we scored with flying colours in our SPM examinations. I was convinced that there was only one thing every girl and guy look forward to in form 5- prom. I was no exception. I had long ago planned to go with a group of friends, but recently I had myself wondering if Alex would ask me out. Why? Because you like him. I ignored the little voice in my head. No, I can never ever develop feelings for him. Yet, I secretly waited to see if my wish would come true. To my surprise, it did!

      On the night of prom, I was grinning from ear to ear. As Alex’s car pulled up outside my house, I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t just a dream. Alex came out of the car and took my breath away. His hair was gelled up, his brown eyes scintillated under the moonlight and his smile shone as bright as ever. His tux enhanced his physique and gave a glow to his olive skin. I bit my lip to prevent myself from smiling like a Cheshire cat.

      The night was perfect until I decided to take a trip to the loo. As I went into a cubicle, a group of girls came bustling into the toilet to reapply their make-up, I suspected. The girls started speaking in hushed muffled tones, but I heard everything. “I can’t believe Alex decided to ask Emily out. I was hoping he’d ask me,” one of the girls whined,

      “He told me why he asked her out and the truth is, he wants to get the scholarship from her dad’s university.”

      “No way!”

      “Yes, way! He knew she was hoping he’d ask her out too.”

      They giggled and strutted out of the toilet, their high heels tapped against the marble floor. I edged out of the cubicle, rivulets of tears streaming down my face leaving a black trail of mascara on my cheeks. A million thoughts circled my mind like blood thirsty vultures. The room started spinning. My chest tightened and I gasped for a breath of fresh air. I ran out and hitched a cab home. I never saw Alex again and as far as I’m concerned, he never got that scholarship. The poignant memory of prom closed together with the book and returned to its place in the memory box. I started the engine and drove off.

      Not before long, I was in my housing area. The houses seemed to have grown. Who knows how many owners have move in and out of them while I was gone. Though the place had changed drastically over the years, I still felt its warmth. Home is not just a house but rather a place where I grew both physically and mentally. This is the place where dreams were made and accomplished, the place where I shared experiences that last a life time, the place where relationships were built. As my car pulled up by my gate, I knew I had done the right thing. To be honest, I resigned from my job and applied for a new one here. Though the pay is much less, it was all worth it. I rang the doorbell and called out into the dimly lit house.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

-AW :)