095 – A Director’s Note to Myself

You have to remember to exert more control and authority over actors who’ve gotten too obsessed with a certain part of the play, to the point that they’re missing the big picture. Finalise decisions for them to temporary halt their creative process, and have them re-focus on their characterisation and the flow overall.

You must remember that loving them doesn’t necessary mean letting them do whatever they’re keen on doing. You lose control: They suffer.

Mistakes are only okay when you learn from them. We’re all learning our parts here—actors, directors… alike. Don’t stop learning.

094 – Gwyneth Paltrow as a Redhead

Tonight, on a silver screen, I beheld Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts.

Oh…

My…

Word….

There’s just… something about this woman, that… never fails to put a smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach. Oh butterflies….

If her as a brunette in Sliding Doors has made lasting effects on me, this, redhead in Iron Man would be… permanent damage. Oh dear…

093 – Seeing the Bassoon. Feeling the Oboe

I was invited to a woodwind quintet concert last night ’cause I happened to know one of the musicians.

I’ve never been to one before—string quarts and even quints, ay, but not winds. It consists of a flute (sometimes a piccolo), an oboe (sometimes an English horn), a clarinet, a bassoon, and a French horn (sometimes a woodwind instrument, apparently… (reminds me of that scene with A, E, I, O, U in a boardroom meeting, and Y comes in late (and drunk))).

“How wonderfully whimsical!” was my first impression, and it pretty much stayed with me till the curtain call.

I have expected the bassoon to capture my soul, knowing that alluring quality and… but the oboe took my heart by surprise. Who would’ve thought that an instrumentalist so comely to the eye would end up so indifferent to the ear. I made a paradigm shift (using 5Wood’s definition) last night during the performance, to follow my heart over my eyes, for while the eyes often deceive, the heart holds true.

How wonderfully whimsical!

092 – Nokia 7280 Repair

So all of a sudden, the spinner scroll (Navi™) on my Nokia 7280 stopped working. (Should nae’ve dropped it so often…)

I looked online and got in touch with Nokia right away. They said that they’d be happy to take a look at it, if I ship it out to them and pay a $20 “Take a look” fee up front. They’ll return with a quote (with the real cost of repair) if the phone happens to be repairable.

Okay….

I looked online again and found a repair shop specialising in mobile phones. It’s only 20 minutes’ drive away, while the Nokia Service Centre and I are 3 time zones apart. So I called at the wee shop—comes with free parking and the smell of ginseng (being next to a ginseng outlet (if you’re into that sort of thing))—dropped off my phone, and returned a couple of hours later as advised, paid $8 for the repair (tax included), and left with a working phone and a grin on my face.

Talk about a no-brainer!

(In case of mobile emergency, contact digilife@telus.net or +1 604 278 2028)

091 – Tight Tights Around the Track

When BK told me that he’ll be wearing tights on his upcoming track meet, I thought he was just joking. But when I arrived at Point Grey High, Kerrisdale today, I was shocked to see how tight those tights really are!

Does he actually get any support in that thing?

Thankfully—according to him—the bodysuit made him faster. He was fast indeed! I think he won something for Killarney.

I can’t help cheering for the Bulldogs though. Can’t act against my genes I guess.

090 – Waste of Time Tagging

I tagged all of my blog last week, with all the relevant keywords—ay, from the very first entry to the very last. I was prompted after seeing some of my friends doing the same.

When it was finally done, I realised what an utter waste of time it was.

I do know that metatags and the sort help others find your stuff easier, but unless your blog entry is about something that it’s not, I really don’t see how the search can’t be rendered solely dependant on words in the title and content.

To stop your head from spinning (from that last paragraph), here’s an example: Let’s say that I’ve written an entry about me making a donation to the Home For Lost Kittens Foundation, with pictures of me holding those fur balls. Instead of it being just a record of my daily life, the real purpose of the act and subsequent post was to market myself as an animal-loving-generous-local-single-guy-seeking-girl. Then, I’d tag all of those hyphenated words separately for that blog entry, because neither its title nor content would serve its real purpose.

Get it?

(Off topic: I find tagging pictures of people on Facebook equally vain.)

089 – Strength In Vulnerability

“I’ve never worked with any of them before,” was the first thought in my mind after (finally) settling down at the first rehearsal tonight.

So we’ve got Shingo! (doesn’t sound the same without the exclamation), two girls, and a bloke who won’t be in town till a fortnight. The Sicilian (Nut) Job in casting told me that the bloke’s keen, but how keen is he really if he can’t even make it to the first rehearsal? The two girls gave off very different vibes. Which is good. That’d give the play a bit more colour.

Usually, for the first rehearsal, I’d introduce the play to them, have them do a cold read, draft a rough character sketch, and send them off with a schedule. But since we don’t really know each other, and the play requires a certain level of intimacy, I decided to get them talking about themselves, to build a bit of trust from day one.

I broke the silence by giving them a bit of background about myself, not only as a director, but as a person, a Christian. As interest increased and questions came my way, I was surprised how comfortable I was to give them straight answers; how vulnerable I could let myself become, even in the midst of strangers. (Well, two strangers and Shingo!) In turn, when the same questions went their way, they weren’t afraid to open up to each other as well. Then the entire ambience started to change—strangers were becoming friends.

Though it may sound ironic, I do find strength in vulnerability, my vulnerability.

I wonder how I can be a positive contribution to their lives with our time together….

088 – I Met Shingo!

I was invited to direct the second run of a one act play, and as I arrived at the first rehearsal tonight, guess who’s smiley face I found. Shingo! (香取慎吾)

It was so outside my expectations, that it took me a good while of conversation and introduction to realise that it wasn’t really him…. He was in fact Supercharger’s brother—or rival, I can’t tell….

But boy! was he a genuine lookalike!!!

I’ll be working with him, among other actors, for the next couple of months. Looks like fun!

087 – Season Opener at Swangard

So this is what a top league season-opener looks like at Swangard—used to think it was “Swineguard,” but apparently they’ve never kept pigs in here…. It’s like going to a tennis match—15 love. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it’s definitely no Tynecastle!

It’s tiring just watching the mascot—a bluejay? a blue duck? can’t tell—trying to work up the crowd, so much effort, even coming from the stands themselves, yet so polite, so politically correct, so family-friendly, so… dead.

Ah, but I’m sitting (Ay, sittin’) on the south stand, the weeist of them three, where all the die-hard fans are supposed to congregate. Other than two patches of cheering men, no more than a dozen each, chanting with their pints in hand—”Press 1 for English,” Hahaha…—I’m hearing nothing more but the kicking of the ball and the occasional announcements from the loud speakers backed by annoying hockey music. Poor die-hard fans, trying so hard… they too become tiring to watch. Wait a minute, why is one of those guys wearing a Gunner shirt? You can’t just slip on any old football kit for the footie! Especially when you’re a die-hard fan!!!

Next time I’ll wear my polo shirt and chinos, with a pair of sunglasses and a white cap—HA! A WHITE CAP! And I’ll clap politely when the home side scores a point, a goal….

Yay! We won; let’s go home.

086 – Just Like Lauder Road

I was supposed to visit this communal house in the morning with a group of teens, but they didn’t get there till an hour and a half after my arrival. Turned out they changed the meet-up time without me knowing—brilliant! The lady of the house—don’t think “Landlady” applies to a communal house—was kind enough to serve me breakfast as I met some of the waking occupants.

This house is specifically for girls in distress, so a man sipping a cup of Tetley in their kitchen at that particular hour is rather unusual for them—they do serve community dinners every Sunday, where everyone’s welcomed.

As I was chatting with an abandoned single mother, I noticed that this place reminds me of Lauder Road. No, Lauder Road isn’t a communal house; it doesn’t serve community meals; and neither is it women-only. On top of that, since Christ is the Head of this house, you probably won’t find anyone here waiting around the breakfast table for their drag on a big fat joint. But the ambience, the colour scheme, and even the scent of the furniture—a blend of orange-yellowness, sans vibrancy and freshness—made me remember that other house where I stayed when I was a man in need.

I guess that’s what made the encouragements during our conversations extra genuine this morning.