Since I have a little more energy now to blog (I always am hyper at night. Beats me.) I decided to give you a blow-by-blow account of CAP so as to plump up my scrawny ego and bore you all to death. Yay me!
Okay.
Monday 1/6/09
I remember being stunned as I gazed at the greyish-stuff that was on my dorm bed. The musky smell that permeated the entire room, like little old ladies, and the dust. Oh god the dust, I think it has about as much dust as the Grand Auditorium at Chung Cheng, which, to this day I am still puzzled as to why it was called 'grand'.
Thank god my mum tagged along and managed to wipe my bed with a couple of wet wipes. I know because I found them in the bin after a tiring day of attending lectures and socialising with RGS people. They aren't as snobby or proud as I'd expected (the stereotypes again), but actually they can be quite friendly, down-to-earth people, like the sort you'd find in Chung Cheng, except that they won't give you a blank look when you talk about prose-poetry and Shakespeare. I made a korean friend =D, which to this day, the pronunciation of her name still escapes me. Heck, I can't even read a paragraph of chinese letterheads without someone laughing at my pronunciation (like an angmoh's they'd always say), so how the heck am I supposed to pronounce Korean?
Also, I learnt something new: Never to judge a building by its paint job/layout. The Prince George's residences looked like a high-class condominium, but once you enter my room...heck, I bet the prisons have more space. It really did resemble prisons with bedsand a sink in the room, except that this room had a fan and the bed was just a single bed. And there were windows and curtains gathering dust.
Basically today was just orientation and introductions, nothing important. No wonder all the rejectees were invited to participate. (Yes I know it sounds mean). For free too -- I bet they didn't need to pay for the catered food.
Lectures were intersting, or at least the parts which I was awake. Lord Puttnam from England had that monotone accented voice you hear in your head when you're falling asleep. I brightened up when he set up Powerpoint, thinking that I could easily not zone out, but when he ended his speech and shut down the window, I saw it was just a single slide comprising of his name and hugeass photo.
What's the point of setting up a single slide just with your photo and name? Boy, he has a huge ego or something.
I had very little appetite and ate just vegetables and a small piece of meat without rice, for dinner. I had planned to take the rest to my room to finish.
I ended up throwing it away.
The beds were hard. But at least despite my grievances, it was WAYY better than Kota Tinggi.
In your face, Malaysia.
Tuesday 2/6/09
We had our writing workshops! Fun fun fun.
Yes, I know I have a weird idea of fun. Right now my peers in Chung Chenng would be groaning and moaning in unison as they beg Mrs Pereira not to unleash another journal on them. I can't recall whether I fell asleep during the lecture, but I think it was interesting. Couldn't recall the contents much, I told you I wasn't an auditory person.
My first workshop was conducted by Agnes Meadows from London, and though her build was slightly...bulky and she looked like a spitfire in her photos, I think she's an awesome lady whose poetry kicks ass. I liked her poem, 'Tracey says', which is about domestic violence. God, this lady rocks.
We just sat there and listened to her read out some poems for inspiration and then wrote poems on the topic 'She's leaving home', because this year's seminar is based on the theme 'Jurneying home'. I managed to pen down a despondent, emotional, melodramatic piece on divorce after biting my lip and after some constipated looks I was sure I had on my face as I struggled to find the words.
The next workshop was a complete blah. I think I hated this workshop most of all. Poor Sheena who sat next to me wrote on a corner of her paper and passed her note to me : I don't think I am enjoying CAP so much. Something you like isn't supposed to make you crawl into a corner and die. I wasn't good at comforing people but I wrote a paragraph trying to comfort her instead of focusing on writing a prose passage about some character.
I really disliked this workshop because Muse went off to lalaland without me. I tore up my papers in fustration and (just nice!) the Courttia Newland, the teacvher pointed at me and asked me to read out mine. I held up the torn papers in my fist, shame-faced. He didn't reprimand me, but he said something to the effect of not tearing up your work as it is part of you.
Had my first performance workshop, and it was rather unfortunate I didn't really like the people there. Somehow the people I met at CAP reminded me of people I've know at Chung Cheng, There was this sec 1 from Nanyang that reminded me of Sharon and a hyper girl who reminded me of Sueann. Except that Sueann wasn't that annoying.
I realised that my group consisted of extremely elite people, Nayang Girls', RGS, RI, Hwa Chong, etc, etc. I frowned at my Chung Cheng uniform, and couldn't help but feel a bit shorter than I was. Anyway, the hyper, nanyang girl had an annoying laugh, one that reminds you of a hyena. Now, I suppose with that kind of laugh, if she had laughed when I was a bit more enegetic of laughed less frequently I may even laugh along with her, unfortunately, a sleep-deprived Chanel is an anal-retentive, irritated Chanel. I think I may have accidentally glared at her or something.
That night, for some unfanthomable reason, I couldn't sleep.
3/6/09
It was with much relief when Wednesday rolled around. I was sleepy, tired and I think I nearly bit the head off Sheena when she came and knocked on my door. Thank god today's first lecture is gonna be held by Agnes Meadows, who had more lovely poetry for us all. Goody!
Oh, on a sidenote, I skipped breakfast all these days.
Anyway, writing workshop was also fun, with Josephine Chia, a local writer helping us. Her handouts were useful, especially for the section on how to create dialogue. I admit my dialogue skills are rusty, since I am a descriptive writer and not a playwriter. Somehow I still have this WONDERFUL ability to write passively. Yadda yadda yadda.
Performance Workshop was hell, because somehow I suspect that given the furtive glances that the two nanyang girls were shooting at me, they didn't like me much. They also ended up doing most of the work, despite my objections. When I spotted a grammatical error and proceeded to point it out to them, the writer was VERY defensive.
Oh-kay...
I decided to comply and shut up. Because it was easier and I was fucking exhausted.
After dinner they decided to bloody change the entire script. Nevertheless, I wasn't too happy about it. Whatever floats their boat then.
They also decided to have morning rehearsal, to make up for the time wasted in writing a new script. I did not say, nor mutter anything. I was sure everyone knew the cause for that.
I had a cup of fruits for dinner, which was pathetic, considering the 4-5 course meals I get at home.
4/6/09
It was with great relief that I r eceived Thursday. Despite not getting enough sleep, I still managed to get myself up and shower. Sheena came into my room and we talked while I brushed and groomed myself (i.e. dried my hair). I was late for the stupid rehearsal, and made a half-hearted apology and later ate my breakfast of twiggy (a cake product of Gardenia).
Thank god this lecturer was a university professor who brought along some powerpoint slides. I was able to keep myself from zoning out during hte better half of one and a half hour, but somehow I found myself doodling and being a zombie in general. That day I accidentally got me timetable wet, so during the forums I was pretty lost on where to go. I ended up at a publishing one and a n ot-so-informative poetry one. Got bored but took down notes.
We had a formal dinner today, and the dress I wore received compliments. I was cold in the air-conditioned rooms, due to it being a tube dress. My fats arond the shoulders were exposed, an ugly reminder for me TO GET OFF MY ASS AND DO PUSHUPS NOW.
I was also able to sleep that night, thank god.
5/6/09
Friday. The last day of CAP and checking-out day.
From the past few days I had managed to remember how to get to the auditorium using the lifts and minimise the labour needed to carry my heavy luggage down. However domestically-blur I am, I managed to fold my laundry somewhat nicely and throw my laptop in my luggage. It was still damn heavy. I hope the hostel never bills me for that one bottle of water I left on the shelf. In fact I should bill them, given how much the cost of water is these days.
I skipped lunch and breakfast, choosing to eat only a roll for both events. A very small one measuring approximately 12 cm long and 4 cm wide. Whatever: I knew that the food I'll get at home would be better.
Unfortunately I couldn't skip dinner as well, as they had catered food, which I dug into eaagerly after the crap I've tried at the canteen on Monday. The technical rehearsals and performances were lovely, I particularly liked the drama and had a soft spot for the balcon scene done by a poetry slam group.
My dad helped me carry my luggage. Thank god, because I don't know if I had the energy to lug it up. At least if you lug it down the bus there's gravity to help you, but when you carry it up, you're going against gravity and whatever depraved resistances.
I also developed a taste for Taylor Swift's 'Love Story'. I could hear it again...and again...and again...
Okay. You can read my thoughts on jouneying home *rolls eyes* if you scroll down.
Anway, I have to give credit to the councillors, who were the last to rest and the first to get up in mornings so as to ensure our wellbeing, and they took pains to pen the aCAPella, the daily newsletter. It must've been difficult to be in good humour when you're tired.
On a sidenote, the list of books I am gonna read:
Invitation to a Beheading by Nabokov
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Magic Study by dunno-who.
Anway I am very shuang right now because I can skip cathehism camp! YES BABY!
