Reason #1249028 why I love living in London:
Getting to watch a live broadcast of the Royal Opera House’s La Traviata, starring only the most legendary soprano alive, Renee Fleming, as Violetta – all for free (with subtitles!) on a big screen in Trafalgar Square with an audience of 10,000 people
Reason #2937917982730813 why i hate living in London:
The fact that there were 9,999 other people there
Honestly, there are just waaay too many people in London. Summer heat has never felt so suffocating. One shouldn’t be made to feel like cattle when watching opera, even if it is free and outdoors…
Pleasant surprise of the night, overheard from two scruffy, stocky chavvy-type guys walking past me with cans of beer in hand:
“He missed a high C on the big aria in Act II, but other than that I thought he was really good. Have you heard him before?”
Ah, nothing like the occasional timely reminder that one should never, ever judge others on first impressions. I don’t even know what a high C sounds like!
sometimes, even though you know you really need to be strong and do what you have to do, all you want to do is let rip all your anger and frustration and just scream and cry and punch the pillows and walls and kick things and ruin your one good knife by viciously mincing your ginger to tiny shreds. you don’t want to keep whining to people that you’re down, that you feel you’ve been kicked in the gut. you know you can get up again because you’re strong and because, given time, this too shall pass. you don’t want anyone to worry, you don’t want anyone to think, oh god, there she goes again, on about the same old same old, and you know that you’ll be ok, so let’s just skip the bit where we inflict the misery on others as well.
you know all that but sometimes, everything that you don’t want to hear comes in a barrage and it’s harder to remember what you ought to do, and you throw yourself on your bed and hug the duvet and cry angry salty choked-up tears.
then you realise it’s past 9pm and you get up and you try to do the washing up and household chores and the job application you’ve been meaning to do all week, or at least take a crack at it. because if you don’t keep moving and lounge around feeling sorry for yourself it will only get worse. and you force yourself to ignore the emotions bubbling over, you put a cork firmly in it, you pick up one heavy leaden foot and put it in front of the other. harsh. but real.
but there’s no time to grieve
we just pack up our things and move on
and move on
New Images From Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland | Comingsoon.net
Tim Burton’s remake of Alice – probably the movie I’ve been most anticipating, and dreading, since I first heard about it last September – has finally released its first preview images! The link I’ve posted above includes two that I haven’t seen before, including close ups of Mia Wasikowska as Alice and Matt Lucas’s Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
Much as anything related to Disney and entitled “Alice in Wonderland” makes me twitch, because it smacks of the common hodgepodge amalgamation of both books that so well encapsulates a plethora of generic assumptions and simplifications of all things Alice, the fact that it was Tim Burton directing gave me a dull glimmer of optimism. And it was with enormous relief that I found out a while ago it’d be a sequel where an older Alice returns to Wonderland, rather than a movie based on the books. It actually sounds an awful lot like American McGee’s Alice, which makes me wonder if there was some unconscious, unacknowledged influence in Burton’s conception of the plot… though it’s much less dark than the game.
The good thing about it being a sequel is that my one of my biggest fears has been totally dealt with – that the books would become horribly mangled in an attempt to give the film’s stars their fair share of screen time. The Hatter, played by Johnny Depp, only gets one chapter in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and a few scant pages in Through the Looking-Glass. And really you don’t see all that much of many of the other characters; they come and go very quickly as Alice muddles through the story.
And overall, the first impression I get from the released images is very, very positive: the landscapes are absolutely stunning, Alice has just the right amount of steely primness and vulnerability, Helena Bonham Carter’s Queen of Hearts looks appropriately insane and imperious, and Anne Hathaway’s White Queen is absolutely my favourite. The ever helpful Wiki article on the film informs me that her character doesn’t walk, but float, and I think that is totally perfect for the character! I can really see the vagueness, randomness and kind but scatterbrained nature of the White Queen coming out of that picture – less enthusiastic about the fact that Hathaway plans to play her as “cute but psycho”, as I really don’t think the White Queen is that psycho, but I quite like Anne Hathaway as an actress. So we’ll see.
Things I’m less enthusiastic about include the fact that they’ve combined the Queen of Hearts and Red Queen in Bonham Carter’s character (why? why? why? as if most people aren’t already confused enough about the two – if they wanted a character just to shout “Off with his head!” they could just have kept the Queen of Hearts and axed the Red Queen), and Johnny Depp’s weirdly clownlike Hatter. The typically Disney addition of mad is one I can live with, since although he was never called the Mad Hatter in the books, the word “mad” and plenty of madness does occur during the tea-party scene in particular. But… I am unconvinced that the excess of white makeup and Ronald-McDonald-esque wig are necessary. Johnny Depp is a genius actor and I adore him to bits so I am sure he will be brilliant anyway. I’m just not all that keen on the artistic direction of his character… and what is with the “10/6″ in the hat!! That is a lazy ripoff of the Disney Hatter which ALSO read “10/6″ – book Hatter’s hat thingy reads “In this style 10/6″.
AHHHHH!
Right. Okay… so, well, if I get off my Alice high horse (which I know I SHOULD, at least before I see the movie) and stop nitpicking, I have to say it looks absolutely brilliant. It has quashed most of my doubts and I’m really, really excited about it. I can’t believe we have to wait till 2010 to see it when they’ve already finished filming! In the meantime, I shall keep obsessively waiting for more photos and information.
Of all the embarrassing typographical errors I have made or nearly made while working in marketing, writing to a major WWI society to invite “aficionados of the Great Wart” to come and see a very sombre war play at the theatre must rank amongst my most horrifically egregious!!!
Never have I been more grateful that I double checked something.
Ah I missed a week… in my defense, this post has been sitting in my drafts, 3/4 completed, for over a week! Horrors. I have been working on it for four days, believe it or not. And it is a good long one too, containing more information about my book-reading habits than you could possibly ever want to know.
I also wanted to write about the surreality that was the tube strike, but that is a post for another day.
There was this awesome 15-book meme making the rounds on Facebook, and after reading a number of my friends’ responses I feel like I have a lot more to ponder on the topic of books that have been important to me in my life, so rather than edit my note (who would read it?) or write a new one (too annoying) I thought I would make a gloriously long post of booknerdery. And long here really means… long. Like, close on 3,000 words. I am putting most of it under the jump for my poor index page but if you are reading this in Google Reader or somesuch, be warned. I still haven’t figured out how to snip posts in RSS feeds. Anyone? Any idea?
The Original 15
Name 15 (or so) books that have been important to you in your life. Don’t take too long to think about it.
So it seems the anaemia is getting worse – well, according to my medical knowledge of exactly zero, and the NHS Health A-Z? For a while now I have been feeling really extraordinarily lethargic and tired all the time, this fatigue being accompanied by very uncomfortable heart palpitations, shortness of breath, dizziness, some nausea… which I’m aware are all textbook symptoms of iron deficiency anaemia. The thing is, having been iron-deficient anaemic for about half my life, I haven’t really found it so debilitating as to be a cause of concern. Until now, apparently: this weekend I have been so consistently tired and lightheaded that I have barely been able to function, and have spent most of it taking long, long naps that don’t help because sleeping is obviously not going to increase the amount of iron in my blood (sorry to everyone i was supposed to talk to online today. I was comatose!!).
Do I really have to bite the bullet and see a GP/take iron supplements/eat liver/eat spinach? I don’t know which of the above options is most horrifying… all sound dreadful. Well seeing a GP is only dreadful insofar as it will probably be a complete waste of my time and won’t tell me anything I don’t already know (given the NHS’s dismal track record) and require extra precious effort to be expended in dragging myself to the clinic and back, so I suppose it is the best of a dire set of choices. But how frustrating… I hate feeling physically incapacitated.
On the bright side, I have managed to painfully agonisingly complete a total of one job application over the weekend by working in 5-minute spurts between taking naps, which is better than none I guess? And also finished a backlog of correspondence, which is always quite happifying. When you can’t sit down and have coffee (or more likely breakfast, in this case!) with one of your most treasured friends, devoting an evening to writing her an email is probably the next best thing, short of spending a ridiculous amount on a long-distance phone call. Love you lots.
Today was one of those days that started off not all that much different from any other, and proceeded to spiral abruptly downwards into a barrage of stresses one after another. Probably nothing I can’t cope with taken individually, but all at once makes for quite the sucker-punch. I feel a little lost, a little frustrated, more than a little guilty (probably needlessly, as usual)… and really exhausted and burnt out, which is odd considering I’ve not done much today at all. Why is it that emotional drainage invariably translates to physical drainage but not the other way round? Thank goodness for the lingering high from Star Trek last night – movie of the year so far ♥
Thank goodness, too, for today’s brilliant free public screening of the Royal Ballet’s Ondine in Trafalgar Square tonight. It was a great introduction to an art form I’ve had little to no experience with, and the atmosphere in the square was fantastic: very informal, relaxed, lively – huge cheers and waves from the 4000-strong crowd every time a live broadcast from Trafalgar Square went up (to be viewed by all the other 19 BP Big Screens round the UK watching Ondine tonight! envy us Londoners) – and lots of hearty applause during the ballet itself. It reminded me of Fort Canning outdoor movie nights with my family, picnic packed and all, and made me feel like… this is what the arts should be. Just a bunch of people sitting around to watch a performance, without any need for a lavishly decorated hall, perfect acoustics, glossy programmes, interval snacks, and comfy seats. There was a strange camaraderie about it all – like we were a horde of crazy people all in this together, willing to stake out good spots early and sit in the cold for hours just to watch a ballet on a big screen under Nelson’s Column.
London’s sunny days are over, apparently, at least for a while – the perfect preamble to a forthcoming weekend of holing myself up with job applications once again. Onwards, as always.
“Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.”
— Samuel Johnson
So London and I, we’ve had quite the love-hate relationship over the past six months. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I have harboured a love-hate attitude towards London because I’ve no doubt that London doesn’t really care all that much about me (or anyone else… it’s a very egalitarian city). I have grown convinced, however, that Samuel Johnson was right on the money – even way back in 1777.
Today, following a very enjoyable post-Japanese sandwich lunch in the park with classmates, I took a stroll down to the river for an afternoon of reading and people-watching in the sunshine. Inevitably, I wound up at the South Bank again. It has everything – the London Eye, sprawling gardens, outdoor piazzas, Thames views, buskers, abundant culture, any number of postcard-photo-opportunities – and it is fast becoming my favouritest place in London ♥ (possibly Covent Garden could give it a run for its money, but big minus points for not having a river view).
Never having attended any of London’s numerous free music gigs, part of my objective in hitting the South Bank was also to pop into the National Theatre foyer for their regular free music programme (every evening Monday-Saturday in the foyer!). Today’s musicians were Katriona Gilmore and Jamie Roberts, a fiddle/guitar folk duo (though they really play a wide assortment of instruments, including mandolin), and… oh my gosh, they were AMAZING. I know London and culture are pretty synonymous so it’d stand to reason that even free music is good (I’ve heard Covent Garden auditions their buskers for quality control!), but these guys were seriously brilliant. I really like folk music, which is a big reason I wanted to go for this particular gig in the first place, but I never realised how much I liked folk music until I heard them. I don’t know if that even makes sense, but I came home and immediately started listening to folk radio stations. The only thing that kept me buying a CD was the fact I had no cash and they clearly did not have card facilities :P I actually checked out all their other tour dates the minute I got home and was very disappointed they wouldn’t be back in London for the foreseeable future (and they are playing in York the day after I leave!! grrr).
Anyway I am now feeling all glowy and excited about the London music scene, and definitely intend to attend the National Theatre foyer concerts as often as I can in future… I think the thing that really struck me about Katriona and Jamie, and in retrospect, about all the buskers and street musicians I’ve seen around, is that their desire to just play their music is so radiantly palpable. No matter how much they’re pimping out their CDs and all, you can tell they’re really happy just being able to play and have people listen, to have an audience, to share tunes they’ve written. It’s infectious. And even as someone who’s mostly worked in theatre and genuinely believes in the power of the stage, I have to admit there’s something more, well… universal, I guess? about music. When done right.
At the end of a wholly unproductive self-allocated 10-6 workday (which will now have to be extended, as I have been in one of those stupors where I’ve no energy to do anything but I’m not sleepy enough to nap… yes I tried!), during which I was meant to tackle a myriad of applications and preparations that should really have been done earlier, I procrastinate further by sorting out phone photos and find this little gem from Tuesday’s Thought of the Day at Stockwell station.
Some time ago, Steffy said something to me that’s been lingering in my mind for the past week: that if something is mine, I don’t have to try so hard to hold on to it. Perhaps the allure of the past lies in the 20/20 vision of hindsight, the fact that I know I had all that, and I want to go back to being sure, to being certain. And now I don’t know what I have – but then, I know that back then, I didn’t know what I had either.
I’ve been wondering (time-wastingly, as usual) if the process of making friends gets so exponentially harder as one gets older so as to disadvantage all the new people one meets (this disadvantage is two-way, so fair’s fair), as far as forming genuine, lasting, rock-solid friendships go. My old girlfriends are always going to be golden in my book simply because we’ve spent half our lives together and nobody I get to know now is going to be able to compete with that, not because they’re any less delightful or likeable (I’ve often felt a clicky-feeling with people that’s made me think we could’ve been really, really good friends had we met under different circumstances).
Let’s say the BBC is right and that there is a limit to how many truly close friends one person can have. The average circle of friends, according to the article, consists of an inner circle of 5 core people plus additional layer of 10 to form a central group, some of whom may be family members. The numbers apply pretty much accurately to me so I’m egotistically assuming that most people are about the same. Obviously, by the time you leave secondary and pre-university schooling, these 15 spots will probably be all filled up! Where does that leave the new people you meet for the rest of your life, which presumably will be several times the length of your early school years? Are they all destined to be stuck in the intermediate-outer circles even if you could have been legendary BFFs had you met earlier in your lives?
It sounds ridiculous to immediately condemn all future attempts at friendship as doomed right out of the door – and I have made some amazing friends and met some fantastic people in York and London who’ve become really important to me. Maybe in 10 years’ time, when I’ve had a decade to spend with new(er) friends, that feeling of mutual understanding and camaraderie will have grown to a comparable extent to that which I currently enjoy with old friends. A part of me thinks I’m probably overthinking all this and friendship is really not that complicated, you either get along with people or you don’t (and yeah I can see the straightforward appeal of that line of thought). Another part of me, though, feels like it really does get harder and harder now to form the kind of friendships so easily forged in childhood. I want to, I really do. But just as I bring the baggage of innumerable memories and experiences to every new acquaintance I make, so too does the other person, and I feel it; that uphill climb to scale those years, to really connect and get to know them inside out, starting right from the bottom of the mountain where old friends have had the headstart well before me.
Anyway, well… I don’t really think I have a neat, stunning conclusion or an answer (how humanities-like, right?) to end this meandering chain of thought. Just a lot of questions. And the constant reminder to myself that maybe some of what I want is mine already, just as it was back in school. Maybe I don’t have to try so hard to hang on to fledgling friendships formed here. Maybe I should just relax. These things just happen naturally most of the time, don’t they?
ingredients for the best weekend ever in recent memory =
bank holiday monday
postcard-perfect, sunny, breezy weather
coraline in glorious 3D brilliance
(at a discount – thanks rokey!)
bulgogi, nasi lemak, smoked haddock
upside-down jellyfish, pipefish, floaty dancing razorfish
sharks! green turtles, sticky anemones
dusk in leicester square gardens
a stroll in the sunshine down to the riverbank
lunch on the quiet end of vauxhall bridge
frappe lattes in the shadow of the london eye
listening to buskers on the steps of covent garden market
epic chats about love, life, home, family,
childhood, friends, the future,
the smell of rain, bbqs, diving, everything and the kitchen sink
really awesome company (y/y, kevin?)
oodles of gratitude
contentment
♥
JM
cui
Charmain
sq