twelve years

I went to watch Jacky Cheung's concert this week. It was absolutely brilliant. The effects were great. The costumes were beautiful. Most of all, his voice was absolutely brilliant. He sang for almost 2 1/2 hours! I can still sing along some of his songs. The human brain is just amazing in that way. Songs I haven't thought of for years, the words come to me as if I heard them yesterday. I still remember watching him with my brother the last time he was here. That was twelve years ago. 12 years ago, that was my first concert. I didn't like it. It was loud, there were teenagers screaming through the songs. His voice was hoarse. This time, I looked around and saw very few teeny-bobbies. The sound murdered a few more of my ear cells still but it was a thoroughly entertaining night. I suddenly felt embarassed. I felt like one of those old people out to watch John Rows concert or immitators of Elvis. Jeepers creepers! As I listened, I marvelled at how much he had improved over the last 12 years. His dance moves were smooth and energetic, rhythmic and professional. His voice was thick and warm even when singing without accompaniment. It was as if I was listening to the CD. Of course it leads to some reflection on myself. What have I got to say over these twelve years? I am older, more lines on my face, my joints more worn down, more cynical in my views. I want to define Olivia Lee. I want her to be conscientious. I want her to be non judgemental. I want her to be quietly contemplative. To be angry at the world's definition of her or of women. To be fun and sarcastic, cynical of the world but hopeful of the future. To be irreverantly Olivia Lee.