Posts tagged with "nervousness"

Goodbye Karaoke Party

Frédéric, Misun, and the boys are mov­ing to France to explore a new busi­ness ven­ture. To say good­bye to every­one, they rented out a karaoke bar and had a party. The night was a cacoph­ony of sound, for the kids were given free reign of the dance floor and ran around in cir­cles, while the adults took turns singing and eating.

This is my first “5x5”; a video of five vignettes at five sec­onds each. It’s a help­ful guide­line for putting together footage that doesn’t nec­es­sar­ily have a con­sis­tent theme. It’s also very restric­tive, as five sec­onds is barely enough to see what’s going on in a par­tic­u­lar clip, and that means you really have to find the essence of action. I gen­er­ally don’t make 5x5s because I always have a story to tell, but in this case, it’s fun just to see how peo­ple sing. This is very dif­fer­ent from the Chinese karaoke par­ties I was wit­ness to as a kid, where the adults take their singing very seri­ously, so every­one is very quiet, atten­tive, and quite rehearsed.

The one who stole the show was Akio, who had heard Frédéric, Misun start­ing a duet of Ne Me Quitte Pas, took the micro­phone from Misun, and started repeat­ing the line he had just learned.

I told Frédéric, “It’s amaz­ing that you’re not ner­vous up there”, and he told me, “I just said to myself that I want to have fun, and it wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t sing, so I wasn’t ner­vous.” I wish I could do that.

Privy To All The New Shit

I’ve been in the strangest mood lately. Killing my Top Rated playlist every­where I go, yet I skip through 90% of the songs, try­ing to find the right one. Talking to myself. Replaying con­ver­sa­tions in my head.

I don’t quite feel at one with the Tao. I’ve been let­ting small things get to me. It’s as if I’m falling back into my old destruc­tive habits, but upon real­iz­ing this, I fight against it. The strug­gle, when observed objec­tively, is quite amusing.

These are excit­ing times. Along with the excite­ment comes ner­vous­ness. It’s turned me into a jum­ble of emo­tions, bit­ter­sweet, and unlike any­thing I’ve ever expe­ri­enced before.

Wish I could do some­thing with this feeling.

Lederhosen Lucil is Coming to Town


I just found out that Krista Muir, who’s alter-ego Lederhosen Lucil I fell in love with two years ago, is play­ing in a small stu­dio in town on Friday. Entrance dona­tion is $5. As much as I want to go to hear her new album (released today, fea­tur­ing ukule­les over Yamaha syn­the­siz­ers), my main rea­son would be to get some pic­tures of her. I never get a chance to do con­cert pho­tog­ra­phy, and she has a play­ful per­son­al­ity with the cos­tumes she wears.

I’ll prob­a­bly bring my 15mm and 24–70mm lenses, and be shoot­ing at f/2.8 and 1600 ISO the whole time. I would con­sider my 50mm f/1.8 prime just for that extra stop of light, but I lent it to Pat and primes are much less ver­sa­tile in such situations.

Two years ago, I missed her only stop of her tour in this city, when I had to “coach” my team in lad­der matches at the table ten­nis league. That made me a sad panda.

Just think­ing about going is mak­ing my stom­ach flut­ter. I may go to movies by myself, but I never go to con­certs alone. The noise and crowds of con­certs make me espe­cially uncom­fort­able (and over­stim­u­lated), but a friend always helps me get over it. Unfortunately, no one else I know enjoys her music (which I would describe as fairly eso­teric), and I wouldn’t put some­one through music they didn’t enjoy. Added to this, I’ll be tak­ing pic­tures, which always makes me feel very self-conscious.

Normally, I take a few weeks to men­tally pre­pare myself for some­thing like this, but since it’s such short notice and the oppor­tu­nity doesn’t come around often, I’m forc­ing myself to go.

I’m scared, and ner­vous, and excited all at once.

Edit: I just noticed that my “sim­i­lar terms” cus­tom field, which auto­mat­i­cally enters key­words from the entry to match words in the data­base and pull “related entries” on the left, includes the word “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”. Hilarity.

Embracing My Emotional Reactions

I laugh when I’m ner­vous. Especially around girls I’m attracted to — total gig­gle­fest. I also laugh uncon­trol­lably around peo­ple I meet for the first time. People lower their guard when there’s laugh­ter, and I sus­pect my mind sub­con­sciously finds humour in every­thing to put peo­ple at ease around me.

Around peo­ple I hate, I’m dead silent. That’s how you know I don’t like you: if I don’t talk. The mere pres­ence of one of these peo­ple forces me to fully con­cen­trate on not drilling a 4-inch hole in my tem­ple with a cord­less DeWalt.

Pat’s dif­fer­ent. He told me once that if you ever see him shake his head and shrug his shoul­ders, you’re in his black­list. In an act of faith, he’ll give every­one respect and will even go so far as to stab you in the front, but he gives up if you cross his line of ethics. He’ll never be involved with any­thing related to you after that. It’s not that he hates these peo­ple, like me, he loses all inter­est. This is prob­a­bly even worse than my reac­tion which, because his is cold. You mean noth­ing to him. I try to let go as well, but I can’t. In the back of my head I cling to the hope that these peo­ple can change. Sometimes I also won­der if these peo­ple ever lis­ten to them­selves and can under­stand exactly why I hate them, because it’s so obvi­ous to me.

I also cry in emo­tional sit­u­a­tions. It doesn’t have to be any­thing par­tic­u­larly sad or happy, just a time when emo­tions are high. Intense sports games, Tim Horton’s com­mer­cials, some­times just because some­one else is cry­ing. I can hide it pretty well though; peo­ple don’t under­stand if you start cry­ing in a seem­ingly innocu­ous situation.

As frus­trat­ing as these emo­tional reac­tions can be, I know they make me who I am.

I used to try des­per­ately to remain cere­bral and log­i­cal — like Pat — but my emo­tions would always get the bet­ter of me. Now I’ve learned to embrace them. I could only do this after accept­ing myself and becom­ing con­tent with who I am. They give me some­thing Pat doesn’t have: intense inspi­ra­tion. That rush, when your stom­ach churns, when your head is burns, when you heart flutters.

They’re a part of me, and they make me who I am.


Promised myself I’d be in bed by nine, but my ner­vous­ness has made me too jit­tery to sleep.

Poignant”, he said, just as I was think­ing the word, and it made me real­ize that if there’s one thing I do try to be, it’s poignant. I don’t know why. Perhaps it shows good com­mu­ni­ca­tion. Perhaps there’s men­tal relief in know­ing that one is not alone, that oth­ers can under­stand and may feel the same way.