Sunday, June 6, 2010


Sharing the stage has always been a great endeavor to me: being with the wonderful cast of a colorful play, dancing to music with a graceful partner, even singing melodious songs in a choir or reciting lines in chorus. The stage, after all, is my friend, and who would not want to share a friend when it is for the best of everyone's interest. 

Sharing the stage is like being one with the others: the eyes of the audience are fixed not only at me, but to all, like we are one though we stand out, and a challenge for me, to stand out, but not outshine the rest. The stage, after all, is my home, and every member is a family, and every member is important.

Sharing the stage is my training for life: it teaches me to be mindful of the things that I do, that every line forgotten, every move failed to make shall affect the others, not only myself. The stage, after all, is my school, and each time I am about to be up there and on there, I learn.

But there is this time when sharing the stage sent chills down my spine. 

The stage became threatening and taunting and troubling: the stage was no longer my friend.

The stage felt cramped, cold and crass: I am harmed, it was no longer my home. 

The stage felt sordid, slippery and scary: I am afraid, it was no longer my school.

It was when I shared the stage with a foe in your story, and the stage were your eyes, and you were just tongue-tied.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Smile. :DD

The things you said the other day
. . .simply took my breath away. . . :))