Airy Persiflage

September 26, 2007 at 4:22 am (daydreaming, mikado, sick, surrealism, very late at night)

Nice to be back – technical issues prevented me, but I have now found out that I can actually access WordPress after about 2am. It’s nice, even though it won’t let me italicize anything (edit – fixed!). Woe. There are so many random things that I have wanted to tell somebody, anybody, all about.. but haven’t been able to. Poor Sebastian is bombarded by silly text messages every day with ridiculous observations that I would otherwise put here. “Don’t you think that pecan nuts are very erotic looking?” “I just walked out of the supermarket and there are field mushrooms all over the pavement like they fell from the sky or just grew up through the concrete, it’s surreal”.

Also, I’d have nowhere to complain about my cold. It’s lodged firmly in the place where I always seem to get colds, smack bang in my sinuses, and this time it comes with a jaw/lymph gland chaser! I feel like I’m being punched in the nose repeatedly, whilst the part of my neck directly under my jaw is painfully inflated. It’s ridiculous – I was at the Department of Human Services today to visit a friend who works there, and all the reception staff were eyeing me as if I were some sort of noxious drug-addled deviant. Right on one count at least – panadol has been my new best friend these last few days.

I just wasted 7 minutes and 41 seconds of my life on an absolutely pointless YouTube clip. Can’t say I wasn’t warned though.

Things haven’t been wonderful lately. Earlier tonight I was sitting in a car by the river crying my eyes out over my inability to make French fries. The argument goes: if I supposedly have all this potential or even ‘talent’, why is it that I cannot perform let alone shine in a menial job? Everybody has moments of self-doubt, I suppose, but what happens to a person if those moments become everything? I guess all that is left is hopelessness.

Even the show, which was something I was previous so excited about, has become something lacklustre and full of scorpions. Of all the principals, I am the one who is noticably inexperienced and.. flat. Musicals call for a style of acting that I find incredibly difficult, especially since I am playing a fairly straight-laced ingenue – it’s like.. over-the-top, comedically inclined realism. There are a million and one conventions associated with it that just come naturally to some people. Ironically, I am the one who comes across as the absolute amateur, despite probably being the one with the most dramatic training. Watching me will be such an anti-climax for anybody who has ever believed in me..

I am writing a story though.. which is always a good thing. I hope that it will eventually become a published novel, but I know that it probably won’t. It is probably aimed at a similar demographic to that of Harry Potter readers – a demographic that sort of transcends older children to young adults and some curious grown-ups too. Finding the time and motivation are the only things, but they seem like insurmountable hurdles.

Daydreaming is a saving grace though. If I ever lost the ability to daydream, I could not go on. The best ones are shared; batted back and forth like Pong, between two willing parties. The daydream gets bigger and better and more beautiful with every exchange. It’s like cooking; if it’s just for me, I can’t be bothered, but if it is for me and someone else, I will make something exquisite mainly for their sake but I will benefit too. Sebastian and I daydream constantly to save him from his hatred of the American The Office and his current work situation, and to save me from my own head and my mother – the best one involved a Spanish country house, three monks, a donkey called Benjamin wearing a wreath of flowers, starlight and spiced blackberry wine. Even writing these words warms me.. beautiful words, textured phrases that taste lovely to hold in your mouth.. these things are one of the few comforts to be found when one is as pathetic as I. And let’s face it – a summary of me right now is barely employed, below the poverty line, sick as a dog, stuck in a fairly awful family situation, with nothing much to look forward to other than a vague hope that I won’t falter, crumple and splinter.

The sun is coming back into the Southern skies and warming the ground. My bones will thaw in time, and hopefully my icy outlook will as well. When the weather warms up, so do I. I think I should go and live in Italy now…

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Sudoku

September 9, 2007 at 3:24 am (random)

I don’t understand Sudoku. Isn’t it exactly the same as the ‘magic squares’ that were maths exercises in primary school? How is this enjoyable, or challenging? Why inflict upon yourself once more the things that you did solely so you would never have to do them again? There are many much more enjoyable ways to exercise your mind, if that is your intention… why not listen to some particularly complex music? Instead of just letting it wash over you, why not listen to the chord structures and the patterns and logic behind the notes, and try to understand what makes the lyrics good. I don’t know – there was a man doing sudoku puzzles on the train, while I sat next to him listening to gorgeous music and watching a child struggle to fall asleep despite the brilliant afternoon sun in his eyes. I felt so much more alive than he looked.

I had a job interview today – at a hotel. I think it went well, but you can never ever be sure. The first lady who interviewed me got along famously with I; conversation flowed and we were suddenly talking about modern art, the boys from The Chaser’s War on Everything, living by the seaside and how to act when meeting a boy’s parents for the first time. She was natural and alive and so much fun to talk to.  
Then I met the second woman who interviewed me; like a stone flower. She was absolutely stunning to behold; golden rosy skin, luminous green eyes, a perfect peach-coloured pout and edgy but feminine black hair. She was dressed as is appropriate for the assistant manager of a hotel, but everything had old-world or feminine twists – her suit was a delicate tweed edged with brown velvet ribbon, her shoes were oh-so-1940s, and she wore a long rope of peach fabric covered beads around her neck. I wanted to be her, until she opened her mouth. A sort of cultivated ‘proper’ accent came out, like the one Kylie Minogue puts on to distance herself from her ‘Charlene’ days. She said at least three times during our conversation, “You do understand that this is hard work, correct?”. So, in summary, I’m not sure how it went.

Seeing as everything is in the open now, I may as well introduce ‘Mystery Man’ – he is Frederick, he is 23, he slightly resembles Johnny Depp, and he is very talented. However, in this case.. my naming system fails – Frederick does not suit him, so Sebastian he will be called henceforth.

Anyway, Sebastian and I have the same birthday. Exactly the same. It is quite neat because it means we can be obnoxiously self-congratulatory together, for just one day. People will have to worship the ground we walk upon, shower us with presents and shout “your hair looks great!” wherever we go. I think Elle is making us some sort of cake to take to rehearsal – discussions as to what sort of cake are imminent. But Paul reminded me of a key point that I seem to have missed: birthdays are supposed to be preceded by reflection on the year that has been.

I think I have failed myself.

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Out of the Chrysalis

September 3, 2007 at 2:53 pm (lucien, mikado, spring, toasted cheese sandwich)

It’s only technically been spring for a matter of days, but there is a change in the air. My Dad has thrown open all the windows, and they will stay open now, even when it rains. I’m practically dancing around the house to a constant soundtrack of fun – in winter, I rarely feel compelled to listen to music, but now it flavours everything I do. The feeling of “everything sucks, let’s run away” does linger, but it’s hold on me so much weaker now.

The pine outside my balcony seems happier in the sunshine.

On Sunday we ran Act I of The Mikado, which was absolutely woeful. I’m in a tricky position to comment on this, because my performance is by no means perfect, and when I say ‘ensemble’ I don’t mean everybody in the ensemble – because certain ensemble members are shining given the difficult circumstances. But the majority of the ensemble are not even trying – people haven’t learnt their harmonies, haven’t practiced their choreography, et cetera. It makes me think… do they not even care if they look like idiots on stage? Usually productions with this particular company have a whole month longer of rehearsal time than we have had, and it’s showing – opening night is in 5 weeks, and we still don’t know any of the dancing or blocking in Act II. Luckily there are diamonds in the rough – Benjamin and David (who play Pooh-Bah and KoKo) are absolutely sparkling. But I am still panicking, just a bit.

Lucien turned up to rehearsal on Sunday; I felt sick and had to run away with Melia, who has also recently been the victim of a break up. This whole thing is so bizarre – I am handling it in a way I thought that I would never be capable of, by simply taking myself out of the equation. In the dying gasps of our relationship, he changed his mind and stance so many times, throwing me and my emotions from rock to hard place so much… it was excruciating. The best analogy I could find was this: I invested so much love and emotional weight in him, but as soon as he started throwing it all around, it was a detrimental investment and I had to withdraw everything to protect myself. He sees this as a sign that I have no empathy and never felt anything for him, whereas I see it more as a necessary act of self-preservation that I wish he hadn’t made necessary. One of the most important things I was ever told was that life is too short to be unhappy, so why shouldn’t I see someone else if it makes me happier than dwelling on what is lost? I suppose it’s my prerogative, but having to then see him at rehearsals after he has declared a state of overt iciness, while trying to perform as well… it’s very high stress right now.

Toasted cheese sandwich time.. adios amigos.

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