Excerpt from Plane Diary (warning: mushy)
I'm still on the plane, having just watched Peter Pan... it's a wonderful film... really good.
I used to imagine myself to be the different girls I read about in stories. When I was just 7 or 8 years of age I used to be Cinderella, the Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. As I grew older I was Sheila Tubman or Mary-Anne from the Babysitter's Club. And after I watched Peter Pan I found myself involuntarily imagining myself as Wendy.
Having such an active imagination isn't good for me though, because I'll be sitting in my seat, blue-eyed and red-lipped and all of 12 years old, and then I happen to look in the mirror and see a plain oval face with black hair and haunted black eyes staring back at me (Ahaha, am exaggerating abit for the sake of literary expression).
That film gave me the queerest feeling as I watched it. Maybe it was the strange surreal beauty of Wendy's face, or Peter's crooked smile, like something not quite real. Maybe because I've seen the whole film in my dreams or in my imagination. I think the feeling that film gave me was a feeling like being in love...which would probably mean I've never been in love yet... haha.
I wonder if I will ever meet a Peter Pan? Someone who can understand every bit of me, someone whom I can be quiet with, dream with, say the strangest things or tell my fancies to, someone who breathes and lives and thinks parallel to me, someone who is almost an extension of myself. Maybe I'm being too sentimental... maybe it's a little too idealistic to think this way, and instead of dreaming about Peter Pan, maybe I should start preparing myself mentally for a Wang Da Ming instead.
Ok, have rambled on long enough...
I used to imagine myself to be the different girls I read about in stories. When I was just 7 or 8 years of age I used to be Cinderella, the Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. As I grew older I was Sheila Tubman or Mary-Anne from the Babysitter's Club. And after I watched Peter Pan I found myself involuntarily imagining myself as Wendy.
Having such an active imagination isn't good for me though, because I'll be sitting in my seat, blue-eyed and red-lipped and all of 12 years old, and then I happen to look in the mirror and see a plain oval face with black hair and haunted black eyes staring back at me (Ahaha, am exaggerating abit for the sake of literary expression).
That film gave me the queerest feeling as I watched it. Maybe it was the strange surreal beauty of Wendy's face, or Peter's crooked smile, like something not quite real. Maybe because I've seen the whole film in my dreams or in my imagination. I think the feeling that film gave me was a feeling like being in love...which would probably mean I've never been in love yet... haha.
I wonder if I will ever meet a Peter Pan? Someone who can understand every bit of me, someone whom I can be quiet with, dream with, say the strangest things or tell my fancies to, someone who breathes and lives and thinks parallel to me, someone who is almost an extension of myself. Maybe I'm being too sentimental... maybe it's a little too idealistic to think this way, and instead of dreaming about Peter Pan, maybe I should start preparing myself mentally for a Wang Da Ming instead.
Ok, have rambled on long enough...
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home