thinking

I thought about chunky things while running around with the crew today.

I thought about awkwardness and how real it is.
I thought about the line between being able to say things that reflect who I really am as a person and who I really am as an intern.
About how I trust too easily.
About lust and how love truly wins over any body part you think about. Shawn was right.
Incompetence wasn't a thought, it was a feeling.
And I'm finally seeing how hard I've been on myself for the longest time.
How I'd like to stop being anxious, stop wanting to take the blame so much for something that I only caused partially or sometimes not at all.
God let me live me the day I stop saying sorry.

I thought about those words f u again and again and why I swear like that.
It was okay, everyone's going to tell me it was okay, but it was mighty rude.
Anyway, don't lecture me, okay.

I thought about where we went and listened to Intro by The XX on repeat while chilling at the back of the van. Every driver out there looked at me like I was a prisoner, with a "Something in my vision moved- WHAT is that a girl sitting at the back of that van?!" face.
Soundman and Cameraman stopped behind the van on a motorbike over a couple of traffic lights. I just, looked elsewhere.
See how real awkwardness is.

I also thought about you.
And how you'll always be the friend I'd always love to have watch me in every production I act in or gig I (will eventually) sing at.
I wish you stayed by my side.

Everyday, I'm mentally noting down something new to write in the Thank You cards to everyone at work.
Everyday, I'm listening and watching these people react to situations.
I also talk a lot of crap.
Downed all three cupcakes Ken's mama baked for me; I'm really happy.

een turn sheep

It's only the start of internship and I'm already thinking about what to write in each Thank You card to everyone at Sitting In Pictures.
I am so happy with the way my colleagues at work show me grace.
Happy was a rare word before the 17th. Joy kept me steadfast and helped me to persevere, but happiness was a temporary emotion I chased after and wanted so much - and now I have it.
(Of course, scoring Ken feels better than anything else in the world.
Scoring Ken is like being that really lucky winner at the arcade whose automated "picker" grabs his heart. Only that there are no other toys in the machine. Just, uh, Ken's bloody heart. Okay, maybe in fluffy cartoon form. In Mao form.)

"You're an intern, of course you're allowed to screw up."
"Of course you need 'grace', you screw up all the time."
"You always think you're holier than other people. You've done so much shit in your life already."

I don't know, I'm just going to sit and smile at you.

Anyway, this crew is amazing, and I'm not about to get all 'sian' about doing anything, even if I really need to pressurize the cameraman for the timecodes sometimes.
Because they don't deserve my sian-ness. Because they are that tough to tolerate and enjoy the work they really love.
I guess I only get sian when I'm stuck in my chair at the office, because I can really feel my butt growing bigger. But shoot days are fun as hell.
I really love these guys.
And it's only the second week.
Oh, the office has really nice biscuits too.

Thinking back, it's been awhile. And it's painful how I still hear your voice in my head.
From the person that everyone loves to revealing to me how ill-meaning you really are.
I want to let you know that you are a bad person and I will never take back these words.
I could give you words that know how to taunt, but the thought of you already makes me tired. You're like a bloody dementor.
The week after my encounter with you, I felt like humanity was a massive shithole sucking me into it.
I wasn't even tired of myself, I was just tired of being human.
I think sometimes we amplify our failures, but at other times, people amplify them for us.
These people are shitholes.
Of course I've learnt from you.
I've learnt to clean my butt and wash my hands thoroughly after shit like you is out.
Go dancing.
Which I did.

Number Three

Today is the eighth day.
I told myself I'd write poems everyday during these seventeen days leading up to internship.
So far, I have written only two.
I'm going to write one more.

I know I listen to melancholic music.
Melancholic, not sad,
Because being alive has no lack of drama.
Even the conservative know that.
Nothing is ever sophisticated,
When we know we are equals.
I know I am born with eyes that are defocused,
With a heart that harps all too much,
With a wanting to take the short cut - to cut.
Of course I have cried knowing I am merely me.
To be so painfully human sickens me,
To give pain to others defiles me,
To remember pain helps me to grow builds me.
Why do we need to live to understand facets of "me",
Why can't we float?
Why can't we be immortal?
I know I listen to melancholic music.
Melancholic, not sad,
Melancholia, not sadness,
Because being alive has no amount of forgiveness.
Someone told me the air we breathe is corrosive in nature,
Where is forgiveness in that?

This makes it three.
Then four, which Ken and I are going to collaborate on to use for a video :)
I wish it were cold out today, wish it were freezing.