alia's activities (to be updated)

Posted by alia at 2:04 PM

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

well, well, well...

after my long M.I.A., i've finally got something right (at least, that's how i wish & hope it would be!)...getting back onto the right track, plus getting busy.


activities as follows:

MARCH '05
13/03/05: submit finished mock-up model to friend in ASK (friend's favor)


17/03/05: UM's theatre prod. bump-in, 8am @ Auditorium Jabatan Perdana Menteri
Putrajaya

18/03/05: lights rigging, adjusting & focusing & plotting session
: run through + technical rehearsal(s)

19/03/05: SHOW TIME, 8.30pm @ Auditorium Jabatan Perdana Menteri Putrajaya

20/03/05: SHOW TIME, 3.30pm @ Auditorium Jabatan Perdana Menteri Putrajaya


APRIL '05 - free!!! except for ASK classes, that is...


MAY '05
mid-May (most probably around 24/5/05): rehearsals for ASK production "PROTES"
sundays: ASK classes @ 2pm...this' what happens if you're the kinda person who love's to skip classes... :P
also somewhere in May: office's short perfromance for the Rewards & Recognition ceremony 9it was supposedly held in mid-April)

JUNE '05 - helping out ASK friends with theatre performance "PROTES"

as posted on youth.arm blog 2/3/05

Posted by alia at 11:11 AM

Thursday, March 03, 2005

1) screwed! improvised
well, this more or less the same story as my previous post only i'd figure it's better to be direct,straight-into-your-face kinda stuff. take your pick ppl!!


screwed!
scene: in an isolated room in an asylum. a girl stared into the blank space in front of her, emotionless. there's a distant yet crystal-clear voice saying, "you've hurt me so deeply & it's funny that you still have your daughter & wife with you. you've used me so much i felt isolated, perhaps alienated from everyone else, including my family. worse of all, you despised my circle of friends for what they are but you are no better yourself. you are no womaniser but you are the Dajjal yourself, using your so-called piousness to deceit the whole world, even women. you are a destroyer & i hope that God'll forgive you for all the sins you've done & the damage you've made. i'll never forgive you for what you've done to me & i pity your child & wife for having such a destructive father-husband to bear with throughout their lives."

the voice later becomes repetitive in teasing tones, annoying tones, angry tones, laughing tones, etc. then all the tones become jumbled up & the girl starts laughing, gradually into a hysterical laughter. as the tones fade away, the girl's laughter tone/pace changes from hysterical to sober and later on angry.

behind her, using a wayang kulit-like screen, images/shadows of the girl arguing with her boyfriend. again, the voice creeping in becoming more & more destructive as she later hit her boyfriend dead numerous times with a china vase.


2) screwed! (or should i call it sweet revenge?ur call ppl!)
description: a very typical gf vs bf scenario. after the break-up.

synopsis (or rather, a story of it):
the devastated gf finds out WHO her ex REALLY was - a 35 y.o. married man with a daughter, still with his wife from her newly declared godsister. she "met" the godsister via the yahoo! messenger & every damned secret is spilled like the fountain of youth to her after she called the godsister, who, online went undercover as her bf (complicated huh?).

dreams shattered (the ex had promised to marry her but somehow decided to use her fragility to satisfy his sexual thrist..>blimey! berapa bulan xdapat hah?!<). the godsister & the gf plotted a plan to teach the idiot a lesson he'll never forget. casually, the godsister invited her to a friendly bowling game. gf declined. later...on the bowling game day... godsister & ex happily playing a set or two games together when suddenly came gf to the alley. both were suprised that the gf ACTUALLY came for the game. the gf, all smiles & cheerful greeted the both of them & decided to join them for the games. it's the gf's turn. she calmly chooses a ball, estimated its weigh & walks towards the alley. seated at the score table, the ex & couple. gf, sort of absent-mindedly drops the ball onto the ex's foot (on purpose). ex started to howl in excruciating pain, cursing her - swearing to her of how cheap she was, etc. godsister stunned by the act but didn't do anything. gf, however kept her head cool despite her heart was raging like a mad wounded bull throughout the ex's cursing/swearing. ending? gf quoted,"you've hurt me so deeply & it's funny that you still have your daughter & wife with you. you've used me so much i felt isolated, perhaps alienated from everyone else, including my family. worse of all, you despised my circle of friends for what they are but you are no better yourself. you are no womaniser but you are the Dajjal yourself, using your so-called piousness to deceit the whole world, even women. you are a destroyer & i hope that God'll forgive you for all the sins you've done & the damage you've made. i'll never forgive you for what you've done to me & i pity your child & wife for having such a destructive father-husband to bear with throughout their lives."

with that, the gf & godsister left him in agonising pain, guilt & humiliation of his unforgiven sins.

constructive comments frm YAs:

  1. frm ghafir..."Alia - your premise is a little too confusing for me. What you might want to do is write down the sequence of events that goes on in your story. Now decide on who your central character is and what is her/his objective. With this character, trace backwards - beginning from the ending and go the beginning and see the sequence of events and whether it makes sense and are the motivations real for you to tell the story. Ask youself at the end - SO WHAT? Why do I HAVE to tell this story? Why should you care about this person? Even if she is supposed to be evil - audience has to care about the character. Read Shakespeare's Othello - see how Shakespeare made the "evil" Iago so lovable. I digress."
  2. EeEdOwRaH said...
    "thank you for the directorial note there alia, but what we wantisnt how u would direct a story (treatment) but just u TELLING a story explaining what is the point of it, (wh- questions: answer them! why when where who how) pls look at a few examples of how the others have done it. and how they approach it: simple to the point, no frills. i think it's better you start catching up what u missed. red light alert!"
    11:09 AM
  3. Sums said...
    "Right. Woman, u have got to get off this theme of yours. Every time there's something involving original ideas, yours always revolves around this kind of plot. Maybe there's no particular reason for this but just as a suggestion, maybe you could make your next idea totally unrelated to this kind of thing... it's just a suggestion. I don't mean to be nasty o insensitive o such but I'm just reiterating what's on a lot of ppl's minds. I hope u take it as constructive criticism."
    12:01 PM
  4. dcyc said...
    "A personal story, but a little weak and too literal, especially the monologue. Good stuff: Asylum? Interesting unexplored point. Issues of betrayal, insanity, revenge, passion.Bad stuff: Shallow and too personal. Weak body, ending comes on too strong. Too emotional which weakens the story, in my opinion.Suggestions: Explore the story of the female, but let's move away from a specific incident to the issue at hand. It might be abuse of women or the frailty of the female psyche."
    3:05 PM
  5. wazhar said...
    "I dont get Women either. But read this:NEWS STORY:Singapore girl wins Commonwealth essay prizeA 15 YEAR OLD Singaporean, competing against 16-18 year olds, has won thetop prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries.In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls'School chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on therestlessness of modern life.Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflictin values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-Weststruggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' said Amanda, who wants to become a lawyer and apolitician.Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a 'powerfully moving andironical critique of modern restlessness and its potentially cruelconsequences'. The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use ofdialogue.Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000, saidBritain's Royal Commonwealth Society, which has been organising thecompetition since 1883. Other winners included students from Australia,Canada and South Africa."==================================================================THE WINNING ESSSAY What the Modern Woman Wants By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careeneddown the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid itmay be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such speed, with tremblinghands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch thepatent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned hernot to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobilephone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance''Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and importantand had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of thoseforeign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent.The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimedagitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicuredfingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shutand hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the oldwoman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmlypicked it up and handed it to her daughter.'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching toMandarin. 'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot ofproblems.' The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big andimportant.Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what shewas thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the samecryptic look. The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerfuldigital tune, which broke the awkward silence.'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. Ididn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how anEnglish name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being easilyforgotten. 'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take theancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her.Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did notcomprehend.'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bagin defence.The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almostgarish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman gotout of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Herdaughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos andreapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said,not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she kneltdown solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods. Thankyou God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years.Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a youngwoman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimmingpool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her lovelife has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man.Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what shesays.She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness.I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots whilereaping the harvest of success. What you see is not true, she is a filialdaughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well forme. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young womandoes not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, withher head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into anurn of smouldering ashes.She bowed once more.The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. Whenher stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed thatit was a son. Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb,bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, agirl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless babywho could not work or carry the family name.Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to herwaist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and haveeverything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that herdaughter would never have to depend on a man. She prayed every day that herdaughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated,could never become.A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. Awoman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouthto speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen. She will notbe like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and driftaway from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood.She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openlydefied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it. Now her daughterwas too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed likethat. The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealthand success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and nowshe stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors byonly a string of origami banknotes.Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were soephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best fashionboutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When herdaughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing. Peoplewould look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she wouldbe forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paperconvertibles and mansions.The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes andprayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter behappy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking onthe phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is notgood, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet ofbeehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshippingporcelain Gods.How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces ofceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols ofwealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every dayof her life. Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols sheworshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter hadwould slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shellat the altar.The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering greystem that was on the danger of collapsing.Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed tothe east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want somuch that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder.She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry andfrustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as ifshe was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thingthat would sow the seeds of happiness.They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove alongthe highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I havebeen talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The propertymarket is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay sevenmillion for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead.We found a perfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move in to our apartment weplan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves ...'The old woman nodded knowingly.Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the houseworkand we can eat out - but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone tolook after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, theapartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for along time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home.There's one near Hougang - it's a Christian home, a very nice one.'The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful withgardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time foryou, you'd be happier there.''You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirmherself. This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings tocling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it wouldprotect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep intothe leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the whiteseat.'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Iseverything okay?'What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder thanshe intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, Ialready got the maid to pack your things.' Elaine said triumphantly,mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda. 'I knew everything wouldbe fine.'Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her motherwould make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the onlyhindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everythinga modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power and now,Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down ...Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read themessage, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!'Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her...And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her handphone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she didnot see the tears.
5:41 PM