Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Essence
Have you ever felt that no matter where your life experiences have taken you, slowly evolving your world view and outer persona, there are some things within you that would never change?
Dancer and I are of the kindred spirit.
We knew each other since we were twelve when I changed dance schools and joined his class.
I have known him for some twenty-one years now.
He was one of the three boys in our dance class. Being ever the sentimental love fool falling haplessly in love with one haughty girl in our class after another, he was at the beck and call of these girls who did nothing much but to bully and made use of him.
I was the new girl and naturally, I came to class feeling a little out of place. Most of these girls, about my age have been dancing together since they were three years old. As many would know, dance class is always a competitive playing field where dancers were subjected to the harsh criticisms of their teachers and stiff competition amongst their peers. It takes a certain amount of self-esteem to survive dance class and fit in. I grew up being overly conscious about my figure and diet, which this painful art form will make you feel and remind you of your imperfections. There was always a need to strive for perfection in weight, form, shape and posture. By seventeen, I was popping diet pills and liquid supplements to boost my metabolism. It didn't help that my mum was just as vain and insisted we should be on a perpetual diet. By twenty-one, I was popping prescriptive diet pills as the older sibling worked in a clinic whilst she studied her way to get into medical school. The side effects had a damaging on my health and I had to stop taking it.
In the first year at dance class, I spoke to no one and concentrated on my dance. I was an average dancer but with an exceptional gift at flexibility which saved my day. I was a rather pretty girl (I must admit, not trying to blow my own horn) and that helped to fall into favour with some of the teachers too.
My teenage years were spent going from one private tuition class to another after school. On weekends, I spent all my time training for dance where our classes ran from 10am to 6pm. If we were not doing ballet bar work, we would be doing Chinese dance and contemporary dance. After our one hour lunch break, we would have gymnastic classes where we had to work on our forward rows, cartwheels (with and without hands), handstands and somersaults or whatever we needed to do to strengthen our core muscles and improve on our flexibility. I actually enjoyed my gymnastic classes more so than my dance classes.
So back to Dancer and I.
Naturally, I gravitated to the most benign person in class.
Dancer and I got closer as friends as we spent a big part of our December school holidays in dance camps, training intensely like professional dancers. Our parents would drop us kids off at the dance school with our mattresses and leotards and tights (first time I had to do my own washing) and we would spend at least two weeks at the dance school starting our day at 7am and often ending at around 10pm to midnight, depending on our rehearsal and class schedules.
After a hard day of work out, us kids would continue gathering around to play cards and talk about our latest crushes. I was quite a story-teller and used to like telling my friends stories that I have created in my head. They would be so intrigued and would beg for more. But one by one, they would knock out as the night stretched on and then it was always down to us two- Dancer and I.
We were always the latest to go to bed and being such lovelorn and love starved teenagers, the two of us would go on about our latest crushes and lamented about our unreciprocated loves. We were in the age of puberty around 13 and were beginning to be curious about the birds and the bees. Being the more worldly one as Dancer went to a neighbourhood school and had a young uncle around his age who was also involved in a secret society gang, he would let on what the boys did, providing me a range of "street smart" education ranging from smoking, shoplifting, fighting, masturbating, kissing etc. We would chat until our eyelids were so heavy that our voices trailed off and we would fall into a deep and blissful slumber.
When I was fourteen, I began to develop a crush for Dancer. I was excited to be lying on our stomachs side by side on our mattresses talking away whilst we swang our bent legs in the air and was hoping he would hold my hand. Alas, that didn't happen. He wasn't into me and was now interested in another girl from the upstairs drama class. We nicknamed her nine and a half (meaning 9 out of 10 in looks in Dancer's opinion).
So great friends Dancer and I were for many years. It was funny how we had shared many an emotional roller coaster together growing up and him seeing me in my most "naked" dressed self in such tight leotard and tights and me seeing him dressed in his tightest tights. My "imperfect" body was significantly exposed and as very critical individuals ourselves with mirrors everywhere and teachers to remind us on where we needed to work on our bodies, it could proved to be a very trying time for any body conscious teenager going through puberty. We went through lots of excruciating pain as we were pushed to perform the impossible and to challenged our flexibility to our utmost ability. There were lots of sweat, tears and bleeding (from en point shoes) so we had seen the "ugliest"of each other.
It must be during the dance camp where we were thirteen that Dancer picked up smoking secretly. He told me "Lucky Strike" was the cheapest cigarettes you could get and then I began to suspect he was smoking. Much later, a bunch of us girls smelled his cigarette breath and our teacher's daughter went to tell on Dancer. Dancer got a big tongue lashing by our teacher but still, he continued his smoking which eventually turned into a habit that stuck with him till today.
******
Last Saturday, Dancer and I met up. It has been a ritual for the past five years when we got back in touch via Facebook. Everytime when I am back, we would make it a night where we would kickstart it with dinner, drinks, small talk and then karaoke. We would belt out all the songs with lyrics that resonate with our emotions at that point in time.
Dancer has a memory as good as mine, if not better. So we often spent the night reminiscing about the silly things we did in our youth well into the wee hours of the morning just like the good old days in camp. As adults, we continue to pour our salacious stories to each other- the affairs we have, the people who broke our hearts just like we were thirteen once more.
Dancer is now married to a woman much older than he is and they now have a pair of twin boys. It has been an unfulfilled marriage and being the man with a big heart with so much love to give, naturally, his life is fraught with one love affair after another. As usual, I am prone to melancholy (perhaps a lot better now) and pensiveness when we get together. We stopped judging each other for our life's misgivings and at best, proffer pragmatic advice for the other on how best to move on.
Twenty one years of friendship eh? we eyed each other affectionately, as old friends do.
We actually grew up together.
Still, we realised we were still one and the same. Forever nostalgic and sentimental- getting ourselves in one emotional tangle after another. Never quite ready to grow up in our hearts and always on the eternal quest for puer auternus.
Our essence remained one and the same. When we get together and stay up to talk about our new or old loves and simply the mystery of life in general, we could well be thirteen going fourteen our lives over again.
Cheers to many more years of friendship to come, Dancer!:)
Dancer and I are of the kindred spirit.
We knew each other since we were twelve when I changed dance schools and joined his class.
I have known him for some twenty-one years now.
He was one of the three boys in our dance class. Being ever the sentimental love fool falling haplessly in love with one haughty girl in our class after another, he was at the beck and call of these girls who did nothing much but to bully and made use of him.
I was the new girl and naturally, I came to class feeling a little out of place. Most of these girls, about my age have been dancing together since they were three years old. As many would know, dance class is always a competitive playing field where dancers were subjected to the harsh criticisms of their teachers and stiff competition amongst their peers. It takes a certain amount of self-esteem to survive dance class and fit in. I grew up being overly conscious about my figure and diet, which this painful art form will make you feel and remind you of your imperfections. There was always a need to strive for perfection in weight, form, shape and posture. By seventeen, I was popping diet pills and liquid supplements to boost my metabolism. It didn't help that my mum was just as vain and insisted we should be on a perpetual diet. By twenty-one, I was popping prescriptive diet pills as the older sibling worked in a clinic whilst she studied her way to get into medical school. The side effects had a damaging on my health and I had to stop taking it.
In the first year at dance class, I spoke to no one and concentrated on my dance. I was an average dancer but with an exceptional gift at flexibility which saved my day. I was a rather pretty girl (I must admit, not trying to blow my own horn) and that helped to fall into favour with some of the teachers too.
My teenage years were spent going from one private tuition class to another after school. On weekends, I spent all my time training for dance where our classes ran from 10am to 6pm. If we were not doing ballet bar work, we would be doing Chinese dance and contemporary dance. After our one hour lunch break, we would have gymnastic classes where we had to work on our forward rows, cartwheels (with and without hands), handstands and somersaults or whatever we needed to do to strengthen our core muscles and improve on our flexibility. I actually enjoyed my gymnastic classes more so than my dance classes.
So back to Dancer and I.
Naturally, I gravitated to the most benign person in class.
Dancer and I got closer as friends as we spent a big part of our December school holidays in dance camps, training intensely like professional dancers. Our parents would drop us kids off at the dance school with our mattresses and leotards and tights (first time I had to do my own washing) and we would spend at least two weeks at the dance school starting our day at 7am and often ending at around 10pm to midnight, depending on our rehearsal and class schedules.
After a hard day of work out, us kids would continue gathering around to play cards and talk about our latest crushes. I was quite a story-teller and used to like telling my friends stories that I have created in my head. They would be so intrigued and would beg for more. But one by one, they would knock out as the night stretched on and then it was always down to us two- Dancer and I.
We were always the latest to go to bed and being such lovelorn and love starved teenagers, the two of us would go on about our latest crushes and lamented about our unreciprocated loves. We were in the age of puberty around 13 and were beginning to be curious about the birds and the bees. Being the more worldly one as Dancer went to a neighbourhood school and had a young uncle around his age who was also involved in a secret society gang, he would let on what the boys did, providing me a range of "street smart" education ranging from smoking, shoplifting, fighting, masturbating, kissing etc. We would chat until our eyelids were so heavy that our voices trailed off and we would fall into a deep and blissful slumber.
When I was fourteen, I began to develop a crush for Dancer. I was excited to be lying on our stomachs side by side on our mattresses talking away whilst we swang our bent legs in the air and was hoping he would hold my hand. Alas, that didn't happen. He wasn't into me and was now interested in another girl from the upstairs drama class. We nicknamed her nine and a half (meaning 9 out of 10 in looks in Dancer's opinion).
So great friends Dancer and I were for many years. It was funny how we had shared many an emotional roller coaster together growing up and him seeing me in my most "naked" dressed self in such tight leotard and tights and me seeing him dressed in his tightest tights. My "imperfect" body was significantly exposed and as very critical individuals ourselves with mirrors everywhere and teachers to remind us on where we needed to work on our bodies, it could proved to be a very trying time for any body conscious teenager going through puberty. We went through lots of excruciating pain as we were pushed to perform the impossible and to challenged our flexibility to our utmost ability. There were lots of sweat, tears and bleeding (from en point shoes) so we had seen the "ugliest"of each other.
It must be during the dance camp where we were thirteen that Dancer picked up smoking secretly. He told me "Lucky Strike" was the cheapest cigarettes you could get and then I began to suspect he was smoking. Much later, a bunch of us girls smelled his cigarette breath and our teacher's daughter went to tell on Dancer. Dancer got a big tongue lashing by our teacher but still, he continued his smoking which eventually turned into a habit that stuck with him till today.
******
Last Saturday, Dancer and I met up. It has been a ritual for the past five years when we got back in touch via Facebook. Everytime when I am back, we would make it a night where we would kickstart it with dinner, drinks, small talk and then karaoke. We would belt out all the songs with lyrics that resonate with our emotions at that point in time.
Dancer has a memory as good as mine, if not better. So we often spent the night reminiscing about the silly things we did in our youth well into the wee hours of the morning just like the good old days in camp. As adults, we continue to pour our salacious stories to each other- the affairs we have, the people who broke our hearts just like we were thirteen once more.
Dancer is now married to a woman much older than he is and they now have a pair of twin boys. It has been an unfulfilled marriage and being the man with a big heart with so much love to give, naturally, his life is fraught with one love affair after another. As usual, I am prone to melancholy (perhaps a lot better now) and pensiveness when we get together. We stopped judging each other for our life's misgivings and at best, proffer pragmatic advice for the other on how best to move on.
Twenty one years of friendship eh? we eyed each other affectionately, as old friends do.
We actually grew up together.
Still, we realised we were still one and the same. Forever nostalgic and sentimental- getting ourselves in one emotional tangle after another. Never quite ready to grow up in our hearts and always on the eternal quest for puer auternus.
Our essence remained one and the same. When we get together and stay up to talk about our new or old loves and simply the mystery of life in general, we could well be thirteen going fourteen our lives over again.
Cheers to many more years of friendship to come, Dancer!:)
