Eighteen to go

They should make a word for that situation — I hate picking at a scab and thinking that the wound’s healed only for blood to well up the moment I breach the surface. And when it scabs over again I’ll pick at it a few days later thinking “oh, it’s healed” for the same thing to repeat. Even on a non-literal scale, it still blows.

While we’re on the mention of scarring though, it’s been the twelfth day since I started on my meds — Roaccutane, this powerful drug that causes foetal malformation in pregnant women, but cures your acne if you take it under the right conditions; it’s a controlled drug by the government. I must say, though, that it’s nice to go to sleep knowing you’re going to wake up with a face as relatively pristine as it was the night before, or go about your day not having to worry about when the next face wash’s due. To say nothing of shaving without discomfort, since I hate facial hair. :D

Caught Walking The Trail by the Footstool Players yesterday at Sedaya with Hon Chien, Monica, Yen Nie, Simeon, Jason, Jarod and my brother on Sunday — apart from Yen Nie’s hilarious indignation at my ignorance of who Jim Eliot was (“um, is he related to T.S Eliot?” and “oh, so he’s where that quote’s from [that quote in question about being no fool who gives what he cannot lose]”) and how she thought I should’ve known better — the play was quite enjoyable.

To cut a long summary short — I guess I was pretty skeptical about the whole affair, since, being the ever narcissist, I wasn’t expecting much from a play about someone I thought I’d never heard about before. It’s about how five Christian missionaries gave their lives in reaching out to a tribe of then-savages in Ecuador, and the play, while grating on the ears at times — the Malaysian accent sounds terrible, downright wrong and weird when you’re acting as an American, and those acting alongside you are doing aforementioned accents — the beauty was how they included real footage from the videocameras of the missionaries, alongside photos and newspaper clippings; the play was based on several books, one of which contained Jim Eliot’s journal entries; the acting nothing short of excellent, heart-wrenching even. You could almost hear the more macho pairs of eyes in the audience blinking furiously.

Highly recommended if you’re cynical, in posession of too much time on your hands, a lover of good plays who might be cash-strapped, or someone who doesn’t really watch plays but wouldn’t mind this once. Admission’s free, and dates are here. What’re you waiting for?

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5 Comments on “Eighteen to go”

  1. yen nie Says:

    Right- so here’s my cue, huh.=)

    I’ll ignore what you said about me, as usual. In fact, I think I am starting to enjoy ignoring you and watching you squirm in your seat.

    Ah, this is fun! =D

  2. tabby Says:

    vitamin A consumer too eh?.. yea.. I used to take those.

  3. Owen Says:

    Yen Nie: :X

    Tabby: Oh, it’s Vit A? Didn’t know that. How long were you on the meds?

  4. tabby Says:

    6 months maybe.. can’t really remember.. went through a lot of pain before that though..

  5. Owen Says:

    Yeah, so did I… well, thanks for the info in any case. Appreciate it. (:

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