Some trauma. Till now, I still can’t @Art.

071219

I think the only reason that I joined Chinese Dance as a CCA in primary school was because I was following a friend. At that time, she raised her hand to get a consent form to start going for dance practices in primary 2. And as she was my best friend, I, too, wanted to join dance to be with her.

And Chinese Dance was kinda a breeze, because I’m very flexible. Like, surprisingly flexible. I think I am double jointed. Which is not an exaggeration, even though I exaggerate a lot, because I have subluxed my ankle and shoulder more times than I would like to remember. And my knees hurt when I stand for long periods of time. But this is beside the point. The point is, I liked dancing cos I was good at it, cos I was very flexible. But then again, not really, because my coordination leaves much to be desired. Which may also be related to the double jointedness.

And I also joined Guzheng Ensemble briefly when I was in primary 2. Again, I think I was simply following a friend. The only type of performing art that I seem not to have an affinity with is choir. I got rejected when I went for the trials. I mean, auditions. Maybe I was tone deaf. And perhaps I still am. Or maybe I am just too soft and quiet and barely any sound came out. Or perhaps it was just my anxiety.

I tried dance as a CCA again, for a short 6 months in Sec 1. And then I noped out of there, because the nature of dance is that it tended to attract very problematic and preppy girls. And they were too pretty for my liking. And after about 6 years of having nothing to do with dance, I was back to it. Dancing again. And it has become much more problematic. But I. I enjoy it…

Back to the past.

I didn’t learn any instruments when I was younger. It was only when I was primary 6, that I, after seeing my younger sister playing the piano, decided to start too. And I highly reckon that it is easier for a younger, more malleable brain and human, to learn any instrument, as compared to an almost-adult of 12 years old. But initially it was easy. Because beginner piano is easy, and me being good at math certainly helped.

Well I was never talented or good. And I think by the time I started learning, it was too late to ever become a genius. But I was ok enough to pass grade 1 and grade 3. And then it was time to take my grade 5 test. And I failed.

And this is the main point of this story today. My failures and trauma.

I remember back in 2015, I was trying to practice the piano. But lots of times, during the day I would be in school. Studying, CCAs, lessons…during daylight time hours where I would have had an opportune time to practice the piano, I could not. Or I would come home at 4pm. And them my brother, who was 2 or 3 years old at that time, would need to take his afternoon nap. And I would be unable to practice. Because it would disturb his nap.

Something scary but unrelated which I suddenly recalled. One day, it must’ve been between 2013 and 2015, I was having my piano lesson. I am quite sure it was a Wednesday. Anyways, my teacher was an irresponsible bitch and she always slept during lessons. I don’t fucking know why. And suddenly the world went black around me. And my head was spinning, and I was sweating. But I remained upright. I couldn’t see the score. I froze. After a while, my vision returned, and I excused myself to go to the washroom. It was fucking scary. It was probably my POTS. But maybe I had a heart attack that day. And almost died.

And because I did not and could not practice the piano, I naturally couldn’t play well during the exam. And then I failed.

More than just my brother’s nap time. It was also…I think there were at least a few times where my siblings or parents called it noise. Of course, I was hurt. I would cry. And then decide to never ever attempt to practice again, but to just melt into my bed, never ever moving again. But mainly it was “noise” in relation to my brother’s naps. Even other times. I could just feel their judgmental eyes and ears whenever I tried to practice. 2015. That was also the year my sister had PSLE. Ok, if I were to make one argument against having PSLE, it would be that, if PSLE wasn’t a thing, maybe I would have passed grade 5 piano. And maybe I would’ve had more confidence to play just as a recreational thing. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like crap whenever anyone else was playing and it sounded nice. Heck, some people don’t even have lessons and they can play. Meanwhile me…Ehlers-Danlos is bullshit. Here’s me finding something to blame for my failures.

More trauma. I recall the time I was left alone at home with my brother. He had just learnt to sit upright by himself. So, I guess it must’ve been sometime in 2014. My mum went out to but something. I think. And he wouldn’t stop crying. He kept shouting. I stared. I believe I tried to comfort him. But the sound. A scream. Then an intermittent pause as he stopped breathing. And then take a deep breathe and then. SCREAM. It went on for so long. I believe it was less than an hour. Maybe something like thirty minutes. But it felt like an eternity. And when he screamed, his neck would bend backwards. and it was really very scary. I thought he would die from all the screaming. I was so scared. That when my mum returned, I just ran into my room. And cried.

And whenever I tried to practice the piano. Either my sister had to study so she needed peace and quiet. Or my brother was sleeping so he needed peace and quiet. And oh. Also, my dad who always had to make business calls. And needed peace and quiet. And he would scream at me to shut the fuck up. And that’s all I was capable of. Making noise. Then my mum would say, nearing the day of the exam, that I sounded bad and I lacked practice. And that she seldom saw me practice. So, she would stand around watching me practice. I think that was the only time I got to practice the piano. The only time I have that dedicated piece of time. I was fifteen then. The exam was sometime in September. The best gift ever. To know that I screwed up big time.

More trauma. In end of 2018 I planned with two of my friends to take an overseas trip. To somewhere I have gone before. Which was, Hong Kong. Well, of course now that would be asinine. But at that time, Hong Kong was still peaceful. And I asked my parents if I could go. I didn’t shout. Didn’t scream. Didn’t sulk. Didn’t nothin’, at all. But they were pissed. They just said no. Wait, no. They didn’t just say no. They went on a rampage. It destroyed me. Totally. About how I was too young and have yet to experience life nor went to work. And that it would only seem logical to go travelling with friends…after university. And they would unwillingly oblige if I must go overseas for school. And I was crushed. Because who tf doesn’t want to go for exchange. Yet they made it seem like an absurdity. But the most absurd thing I heard. A reason they gave for me being unable to travel, was that I seldom travel. And hence I can’t travel. Because I have very minimal experience living overseas. Which seems like the most fucking ironic thing ever? Cos it’s like, the reason for which I have little travelling experience, is gonna become the reason that stops me from travelling. I cried a lot. I felt completely humiliated for even asking. Because they made it seem like I was just another risky teenager who wants to do stuff without caring about the consequences. When I merely asked. I didn’t even insist. I cried a lot. And for a few days I was unable to look them straight because I felt like a complete fool.

So, I’ve failed my grade 5 piano exam. That was in 2015. I stopped learning because I was simply wasting money by learning and being unable to practice for the rest of the week because I would be told to shut up. And since then I rarely play the piano. My finger coordination leaves much to be desired, since the start.

Something else that I like to do is to sing. Well, I have been told that I suck at singing. Hence, I believe that I do suck at it. Which sucks right, why is it that all the thing that I like to do, I’m so bad at them??? My entire journey with singing has been…sad?

The first time I remember being told that I suck at singing and I should just shut up. I as in secondary 1, and I think we had to make a remix of some song. I think it was Katy Perry’s Plastic Bag. Or is there no song by that name? ahh. Fireworks. It was for some assignment, I guess. And I started singing, cos of course we were writing the lyrics to some adaptation of the song for the project. And I was singing. And some groupmate, some guy just told me to shut up. Like wtf. I wasn’t even loud or anything. They were singing. Another groupmate was singing. But just me. He told me and only me to shut up. I was only enjoying myself. My heart hurt. I was shot.

Another time, something similar. We were in the car and my mom and siblings were singing. I remember it was late at night. It was dark. They were singing, and I was harmonizing. I sat in the front seat next to my dad. My mom and my siblings were in the back. And loud, were they. They were very loud. It was some song, which I cannot recall. Probably a Chinese song. Or not. Or simply some Chinese rhymes? Then I was happily saying alone. Or singing along. Trying to be heard. I was loud, but certainly nowhere near as loud as my siblings in the back. When. A bombshell was dropped on me. My dad told me to shut up. It was something like “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! If you can’t sing don’t sing. If not, sing properly.” Tears just started flowing inexplicably. I was so hurt. I was trying my best. I was trying to sing. Sure, it is noisy. Perhaps a bit too noisy. But he only said that to me though. When others were making just as much, if not more, noise. that even my father was saying that my singing sucks. I must really suck. It was so, so painful. They hated me. I wanted to open the fucking car door, and just jump out of the car there and then.

Oh, something peculiar about my dad whenever anyone tries to sing while he’s driving. He will tell them to say Buddhist sutras instead. Which I simply cannot help but mega cringe at. But I couldn’t anyway. For one, I wouldn’t want to, and for two, I have forgotten how to.

And there. I have been gravely insulted for my singing twice already. It can’t be a coincidence. The only possible reason must be that I suck at singing. I can’t hold a tune, and my voice is ugly. Just like how I am fat and ugly. And so, I may want to sing. But I always must restrain myself because I know that my voice sucks and no one wants to hear it. I don’t think the people who insult my singing understand what it does to my already non-existent confidence lol. Or maybe they do know. And they say it on purpose just to hurt me, because having a me that is weak is easier to make use of.

One-time tho, that I can remember really singing freely, is the wee hours of 11^th August. In a booze fueled night. Completely seh and one moment away from toh-ing. Yup, this is the same night as “Adventures in Ethanol”. The place was Kanpai. And the DJ was playing my favorite tune. Getting off at Telok Ayer at something like 10.30 pm, after a whole day of slog and having not slept the previous night, I was effectively drunk before even drinking. Yes, they played 3 out of the 4 magical songs where everyone grooved along together. But they also played Helena. I know it was an MCR song. But I took out shazam just to be sure. And because I wanted to remember it. I screamed the song as it came out. I knew that my voice was probably at it’s worst then. Firstly, the alcohol was inflammatory, and Soju has a thing to it that makes my throat hurt the next day. Secondly, alcohol is a CNS depressant, which also means that it relaxes your muscles. And boy, were my vocal cords relaxed and I couldn’t control them. I basically shouted the lyrics. The two MRC songs. Or more. I only know Helena. Because I Shazamed it. Boozed up. I’m quite sure I would have forgotten that they even played Helena, had I not Shazamed it. Also, I think I was the only one who sang along to MCR. Or maybe not. But I know that I sounded bad, but I still sang. That was perhaps the only time I sang aloud in public, without being fucking insulted until I wanted to cry. (But as I perhaps have written, or am about to write, that day, worse stuff happens, and I was insulted in a way worse style, than simply someone insulting my singing.) The singing made me so glad that I walked up to the bartender and asked if I could song request. And what a joke, for when told the price of it, something like 2 or 3 dollars, I just turned around and walked away, perhaps to the toilet, because I couldn’t remember for the love of god what song I wanted. Only that I wanted MCR.

And there it is. I really enjoy singing. But I have few, very very few friends, hahaha. The first time I went to a karaoke was last Saturday, the day of the last finals, the first in a series of finals that I will be having for the next 4 years.

Well, writing this, and just thinking in general, makes me think that I probably have quite serious family issues. But my siblings seem to be ok. So maybe…its just me. And I kinda wish they would read this. If, if, if I wasn’t adopted at all, which now I really cannot be certain of, this would kill them. But now I really don’t know anymore. Where does our relationship stand? Just how good, or estranged, is our relationship? Do my parents care about me? Also, is this somehow related to how they still think I am nothing more than sly, peeping thief, from when I outed myself to have stolen a whole bag of stuff back when I was 14. When in reality, no. Its got something to do with my knifes, some snitches in my class, a bitchy teacher, my pretty severe anxiety, my dad crying, and me crying.  That is a long tale that is worthy of another day’s story.

On to my experience with dance now. Dance is highly linked to singing. Because sometime when I was 18, I discovered musical theatre. Things like Les Mis, Phantom, and then as I went deeper, also DEH, Saigon, Heathers, Great Comet, Anastasia and Hamilton. Ok I basically just listed the musicals that I have listened to/watched. Which isn’t a lot. But you could count Cats and BMC too, I guess. But mainly the important thing is, Heathers. My inspiration for dancing, in the recent times. I mentioned above about how I was a dancer in primary school. And how I also got back into dance related things recently.

And recently means university. My summer of 2019 was spent. I once read a story about how someone placed all their eggs in one basket by spending an entire summer on one project. And I guess that’s how I feel. I spent my entire summer on something. Only to be destroyed. The only thing I got in return was mortification, insults, and perhaps, fuel for my alcoholism.

Summer of 2019. I got a university placing. But I had not even matriculated yet. I had already begun collegiate activities. Somehow, through the convincing (and now that we are no longer friends, the “conniving” of a friend) of a friend, I went along with her for auditions. And somehow, I got in to the dance group. And she didn’t. Well, I don’t have the physique of a dancer at all. My legs are too thick and muscular. I am clumsy and uncoordinated. And I haven’t danced in like, over 6 years. But perhaps the reason I was chosen instead of my friend, is because I’m not effing massive. And, I submitted the form in the correct format, whereas she ignored my advice and submitted the wrong format, and perhaps that’s why her entry was missed. It was a month and a half of preparations for a dance performance that would take place on the Saturday right before lessons began. And in that month, I went to school almost day. It started off innocent. 2 or three days a week. Then practice intensified…by a lot. And…I enjoy the dancing part, yes. But not the people. I guess sometime into the July, I realized that the people who would be inclined to join a dance, are the people who were just interested in finding a girlfriend or boyfriend. Specifically. A completely hetro group. And I couldn’t be part of it. Especially because my genre has a heavy component on pairwork. So, I guess a lot of people were joining just for the possible romance.

There were a lot of kpop lovers in there, I think. And for a lot of people, their motivation to learn to dance, or to join an endeavor that would allow them to dance, was kpop. But not for me. I’m fine with kpop and I love it. But I’m not crazy about kpop. And my motivation for dancing…was Musical Theatre instead.

And there were a lot of homophobes, I think. Naturally. It is Singapore. And it is a conservative society. And I outed myself. By god. I was questioning. I haven’t even had a crush. I didn’t have to say it. But one night there was group bonding. And my drunk ass deadass said that I was flashing purple. Or just purple. When asked my traffic light color. That basically means that I am gay, for the uninformed. The next practice my dance partner asked if I meant what I said. And I oop. I mean, I said yes. Or something along the lines of I was questioning. But why the fuck is that even a question? I am mortified enough that I said that…also, I think the second night that we went for bonding, they were playing red-black. Which was a game played using poker cards where someone would pose a question and people would answer, red meaning yes and black meaning no. each person was given one of each card and they would anonymously answer. Afterwards, the group will open the cards and try to guess who was in the minority. Cool. Except my drunk ass, again, asked, who was gay. And I was the only person who said yes. But they did not guess. But I feel they secretly knew, and just didn’t want to choose to open my card.

So, there I went, outing myself in front of a group of people who would use my queerness as fuel to hate on me. Because now I suspect that being called ugly and unattractive may have to do with my being gay. There it was, a dancing endeavor which left me with scars, feeling ugly and extremely unattractive.

And when semester started, I joined another dance thingy. And on weekends, I usually will go for about 2 hours of dance practice. It is honestly much more chill. But I remain bad at dancing. Because of my lack of coordination. And this time round to, I joined this dance group, because of yet another friend. Who, as current realities stand, may be unable to attend practices any longer, because she has work on Saturdays. This is yikes indeed.