Purgatory

A state of bleaurgh.

Don't know how or where to begin. Can't think of the right words to put it down into pretty writing. Writer's block? Lethargy? Depression? Sleep deprivation?

Just feeling bleaurgh. That's the only way I can describe it.

All is in a whirl... there's no one feeling at this very moment; more of an amalgamation (shah... how the big word, ah...) of all sorts of wierd-ass sensations seeping through my gut into the rest of me. No, I do not have indigestion. If there was one word that sums it all up, I'd blog it down, but it's failing me... so the best way I can relate to it is putting together all the other words that describe it - confusion, stress, sadness, excitement, fear, longing, restlessness, detatchment, fatigue and a dash of something unknown. A state of limbo... not knowing which way to turn, where to look or what to look for. My hands are both tied AND being pulled in several directions all at once. So much is happening yet it feels like nothing is happening.


Perhaps it's because of the stress at home lately. My mother won't tell me what's going on with her. How can I be there for her if she won't let me? The last time she opened up was to tell me that her physical state was not too great (the previous post should clue you in), but since then , not much else. I do know she got her test results back and they were better than expected, indicating that nothing had spread anywhere outside her ovaries... so surgical procedure, if any, would be devoid of unnecessary complications. However, the doctor had asked her to get my dad down, so I'm figuring there's more to the story than she's letting on. But no amount of questioning will make her talk, so I decided to leave her alone if she wants some privacy in the matter. But being kept in the dark sucks. Dad came home last night, to make matters more dramatic. She checks into hospital tonight for surgery tomorrow. My fingers, toes and heart are hereby crossed for her.

Maybe the bleaurgh is rooted in fatigue and sleep deprivation. I've been on the go at a stretch for the last month now, with Bugsy Malone. "Who???", you say. Er... knock knock... read the papers or listen to YES FM. Bugsy Malone is a broadway musical that's currently on the boards at the Lionel Wendt, courtesy of the Junior Workshop Players. Another marvel by the legendary Jerome de Silva, assisted by yours truly. Tonight's the final performance, so if you've missed it, I feel bad for you. Damn, those kids are talented, and exceptionally so. Although its also been the experience that re-affirmed my staunch commitment to theatre and that of never bearing children, it's been a fun but tiring process of running around putting costumes together and helping with the backstage work. I still haven't made up for the sleepless nights of pasting sequins onto costumes, and the exhausting flurry of hopping from store to store looking for insane outfits.

Or maybe the thrill of the last two days is now having it's after-effects on me. My company sent me along with another guy from office to participate in the Sri lankan 'Young Lotus' competition. After a full day of panic-attacks, multiple bathroom visits, fervent prayers and nervous babbling, we won the competition, and are now being sent to Thailand in a month to compete regionally as the Sri Lankan representatives. It's a huge boost to ye olde career, I must say, and a fabulous exposure to the industry; not to mention a thrilling opportunity. I've been riding an ultra-high wave since we won it two days ago, but now the pressure of it all has begun to seep in. Winning aside, it's bloody alarming to know that I now have a ton of expectation coming at me from all sides to perform consistently and prove my worth. One month of arduous training and learning presents itself before me... I can see me not getting any more sleep than I have in the past month.

Thrill also came in the form of the Egyptian Embassy approving my visa for that ill-famed tour I plan to take Mum on in April. Hopefully, her surgery tomorrow will go fine, and she'll recuperate fast enough to go. Feels good to know I can actually do something to reward her for all the nasties she's had to face recently. Selfishly, it's also exciting to think of my dreams of Egypt finally becoming a possibility. But Mum needs to heal first... and so the excitement has to abate for a while, until we know she will. Did I mention my crossed fingers?

Something's missing, amidst all this hype. Life has been choc-a-bloc busy, and yet it feels so unfullfilled. I should be swinging off chandeliers or weeping my gut out, but instead I'm moving at slow-motion in a surreal state of detatchment and longing for something I haven't found. Nothing matters when everything SHOULD matter.

The frightening sensation of wanting to take my life flashed through me a few times, although I have no idea where it came from and why. I'm not that dumb to even consider it, but the fact that I felt it at all scares the shit outta me. I honestly don't know what to call this bundle of emotion I'm going through....

So shall we stick with 'bleaurgh', then?