Birthday P.S.

Had an email from one of my friends on Friday with the subject line: "Am Terrible Friend".


The message read:  "Happy Birthday for Wednesday!  You can call me P... oops not sure that was funny."




LMAO.




Bless.  

The Joys of Rejection

Well, I had my first audition in, ummm, years (!) yesterday.  I was really nervous.  REALLY nervous.  Like shaking nervous.  Haven't felt that nervous in years.  But I used those nerves to help my character and ended up doing a kick-ass monologue. Felt good.  


I made it to the callbacks (they took about 8 of the 20 auditioned), but then that's where it fell apart a little... we were put into groups of 4 or 5 and given the first scene of the play to present - with about 30 mins to do so. The producer and the two pre-cast actors wandered around giving advice and observing how we worked.  The group I had was nice and had some good ideas, but I don't think we were the most imaginative bunch... but we did ok.  I always find those type of callbacks difficult - I know it's more a chance for the director to see how you work with others, but when you have an actor who blocks you completely for part of the scene, it's not ideal!  I should've just moved my chair, but that would've distracted from the fact he was speaking at the time.


Needless to say, I got a text message from the director this morning (he's also a friend, so has my number), to say I didn't get the role.  I was expecting not to get it.  In fact, when I was out with friends last night and we were playing our version of the Clinker game (where you ask a question as you're choosing a Clinker from the packet - if it's red the answer is no; yellow is maybe; and green is yes) and I asked if I would be successful in the audition.  I bit into the Clinker and it was red - no!!  I know it's ridiculous to base things on a game played with sweets, but my intuition was correct!


Looking back, the other thing I think worked against me (besides that blocking gaffe), was that I didn't gel with the producer - in fact I found her quite prickly... and I got the impression she didn't think much of me either!  So maybe that's an upside to not getting the role.


I guess that's just the nature of this business.  There's a lot of rejection.  The director did say he thought that my monologue was one of the best of the day and that his not casting me had nothing to do with my ability, but to do with the balance and fit of the overall cast.  Which could be true, but could be just him blowing smoke... unfortunately my nature is to believe the latter and that my work in the callback was just crap.  


But I know I did a kick ass monologue and I'm happy with that.


x

The day after...

Yesterday, I turned 41.  Yoiks.  40 I could cope with.  41 is a whole other age to cope with.  It's a march towards 50 - not an age I want to contemplate heading towards.


I took myself off to the movies in the morning - to see Emilio Estevez's film 'The Way'. Martin Sheen, James Nesbitt, Deborah Kara Unger and a brilliant Dutch actor I'd never seen before, with the delightful name of Yorik van Wangeningen.  It was a really beautiful film.  I like the way Emilio Estevez's movies concentrate more on the characters themselves rather than using them to drive the plot.  It was quite a spiritual film - perfect for my mood yesterday, which was quite introspective.


After an afternoon spent re-reddening my locks, I met up with a few friends for some gingerbread martinis at my favourite city bar.  A few too many were consumed, so much so that I had to get off the tram home because I was feeling a little woozy!  I ended up walking the rest of the way home (about a 45 minute walk), which helped, but I'm glad I had the day off today to recover!  


Thanks to the powers of facebook, I had some 90-odd messages of birthday wishes from various friends.  I also had a bunch of voicemails, emails and text messages too, which was lovely. Even my brother remembered to call me and he's hopeless at remembering my birthday!


However, in typical 'me' fashion, I'm finding it difficult to focus on the fact that almost 100 people thought of me and took time to message me yesterday and instead I'm being eaten up by negative thoughts about the friends who didn't.  A few really good, close friends whose birthdays I always remember and who I expected to at least send me a text message or email, haven't done so and it hurts.  Does this make them any less a friend?  No, I guess not.  It's just a birthday after all.  I'll get over it eventually.  But it still hurts.


In the meantime, this quote just popped up in my inbox. 


Apt.

Yesterday I took the time to do one of the things I like best to do, which is go to the movies.  I saw a movie which inspired me and that will help me to focus away from the disagreeable surprises of friends not remembering my birthday.  


Onwards and upwards.


I have an audition monologue to work on... best I get back to it.


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A Year Ago Today...

Yes, it's been a while.  I've been a little busy with other blogs the last few months, namely the one I started to chart my progress Walking In This World and my One Line A Day blog.  That one, I'm pleased to report gets updated on a daily basis.  Probably because it only requires one line. Or a photo. Short and sweet.  I always feel like this blog deserves more, probably because I've had it for so long and used to write so much on it.  Anyway.  It is what it is and I'm not going to get stressed about not writing it.


I've just noticed a monster spiderweb going across the outside of my study window.  It takes up a good corner of it - almost like a curtain.  I'll add that to my list of things to do today... the last thing I want is a spider creeping in the window or through a vent. Mind you it's too cold for the windows to be open anyway.  Melbourne is very deceptive like that.  For instance, the sun is shining and the skies are blue today, yet when I opened up the windows to let some fresh air in, I was hit by an icy blast. According to the woman on the radio it's about 12 degrees.  Brrrrr.


I've just noticed a second cobweb.  Jeez.  Time to get out there with the broom. The windows could do with a good clean too, but that ain't gonna happen in these temperatures.


So.  What have I been up to? A bit.  It dawned on me this morning that it is exactly a year ago today that I hopped on that plane to NYC for the mother of all 40th birthdays with my friends.  How bloody depressing that I'm now sitting in my pjs, typing this blog, procrastinating on doing the housework and trying to work out why I seem to be perpetually broke.


Snap out of it m_m.  You're better off than most.


I've just come back from 5 days in Tasmania with a couple of friends, both of whom are off to the States shortly (one for a couple of months, the other to live) and I think that's depressing me.  I just heard from another friend who is moving back to the UK for 6 months today and a few other friends are headed off (or already on) big overseas trips, while I seem to be in a constant state of debt.  


Sheeesh. Wallowing in self-pity, much?  I'm surprised if anyone's still reading this.  Please accept my apologies and go and pour yourself a large glass of wine, while I give myself a quick slap upside the head and take a reality check.


Anyway.  That's enough from me in my present mood.  Think I'll go and do a spot of dusting and hoovering and see if that improves my foul mood. I'll return again when I've got something a bit more positive to say.


In the meantime... my gossip tip for the day:


I swear Kate Middleton is preggers.  That blue coat she had on the other day only enhanced the burgeoning baby bump.  She's been wearing spanx at the other Diamond Jubilee events, but mark my words - an announcement will come from the Palace in the next couple of months.


You heard it here first, kids.  

Killing Time...

No, I'm not killing anything.  I've just got a little bit of time up my sleeve between finishing work and heading off to the get the train to Williamstown. I could go shopping, but I'm watching the pennies... besides I don't actually "need" anything. 


The play I'm in is in Williamstown.  Which is on the opposite side of the city from where I live, so there's no point going home between work and 7pm, which is our call time.


[twiddles thumbs]


We opened last night - our season is for just on 3 weeks.  It was a good show - (almost) everything ran smoothly and our cast (of 12) all had really good energy.  It's been more fun than I thought... the only glitch in it all for me has been the distance I have to travel (by public transport) and the director's penchant for keeping us back for an hour of notes after each tech/dress run, which means I don't get home until close to 1am.


But now that we're actually "in season" and the director can't keep us back every night for notes and I have a gorgeous co-star who very kindly drops me off in the city after the show, so I can get the second-last train of the night home; my 'glitches' should be eliminated and I can just concentrate on having fun!


I'm now only working 3 days a week as well (Tues, Wed & Fri) which is heavenly.  I've been able to catch up with people I haven't seen in ages and get stuff done around the house.  Awesome.


I'm into Week 8 of Walking In The World, which is going well - I'm really enjoying that too.  I'm enjoying a lot of things at the moment!  Glass is definitely (more than!) half-full!


So what's new in YOUR life?


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Missed Me?

I'm back.  Briefly.  Just to say I'm not ignoring you, I've just been busy.  Hopefully you've been keeping up with my doings over here, but in case you haven't:

I'm rehearsing a play.  I'm playing two small roles, with a big cast, set in the Restoration era, and it is lots of fun.

I'm doing Walking In This World, along with two lovely mates in the UK.  I'm loving it and making small but important changes to my lifestyle and work habits.

I lost two beautiful friends.  One took his own life at the end of February at the age of 39; the other died in his sleep a couple of weeks ago at the age of 48.  Both far too young and I'm still struggling to come to terms with it all.

I quit one of my jobs.  Life's too short to not be doing something you love and what I love to do is write and perform.  Working 3 days a week at my other job is enough to pay my rent and bills and gives me 2 days to write and 2 days to rest.  My last day at the second job is this Thursday and it can't come quick enough.

I gave up drinking, again.  I've only told a few people so far... I'm not making any big announcements about it... I'm just trying to stay healthy and save money and I was spending far too much money and wasting far too much time drinking and it had to stop.  I don't miss it, yet.

I'm going to more movies and watching less television.  But I'm addicted to Smash.  It's like Glee for grown-ups, with big Broadway stars.  It's awesome.

I love my flat.  It's so homey and lovely.  I have everything I need now except plants.  I need plants.  Preferably ones that thrive on neglect... I'm not that conscientious when it comes to looking after them.

I love Melbourne in the autumn.  I can't wait for winter when I can wear the big puffer coat I bought in NYC last year and the fur-lined boots I picked up in the sales the other day.

I've booked a trip to Tasmania with a couple of friends for the long weekend in June.  I've never been there... I'm looking forward to it!

Be back sometime... maybe sooner, maybe later.

Hope you're all peachy!

x

Postcards

In my last post, I referred to a new project I'm embarking on.  The "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard Project".  You see, I'm a postcard hoarder from way back.  I can never walk past an Avant Card stand without grabbing a few, plus whenever I go on holiday somewhere, I tend to pick up free postcards, or buy postcards from various places as mementos, so over the years I've built up quite a collection.


Currently, the bulk of this collection sits in a box in my study, along with an assortment of birthday cards, Christmas cards and gift tags. I never thought I'd be the type of person who has one of "those boxes", but I am.  Thankfully, I have yet to become as OCD as my mother who has her box of cards indexed.  Yes, INDEXED.  There's birthdays (sub-sectioned into ages 1-10, teens, 18th, 21st, various milestone adult ages, regular adult, funny adult, inspirational adult); anniversary; engagement; marriage; birth; illness; blank; and sympathy.  Thankfully, I don't need to keep a stock of sympathy cards handy.  But as LB is 73 now, and lots of her friends are popping their clogs, so she gets through a good stack of sympathy cards.  She also goes to a lot of funerals.  They're quite the social occasion for the over-70s.


Anyway.  


My box of cards does not contain any sympathy cards, or illness cards, or even anniversary cards; but it does contain a lot of postcards.  And I've decided it's time to start using them for their intended purpose.


It saddens me sometimes that in our modern, technologically advanced world, you can end up going for weeks, sometimes months without receiving a piece of handwritten mail.  That is, mail which is not a bill.  When I was a kid, I had several pen pals - one of whom to this day is still a very dear friend, whom I've visited several times in her homeland of Sweden.  That excitement of receiving a handwritten letter from a friend can never be replaced by email; and so I've decided that I would like to share a little excitement with all my friends, by sending them postcards.  I'm not going to do it all at once - I'll only do a few a week, but it's a project I'm determined to devote at least an hour each week to.  


This is the first card I sent.  

I took a bunch of these "Thank You Project" cards when I first saw them in an Avant Card stand a few years ago and thought they'd be good ones to start with.  It also dawned on me, as I was flicking through my address book trying to decide who to send it to, that my lovely friend Shelley (who came to NYC with me and whose gorgeous swimming pool saved me from dying of the heat in Adelaide at Christmas!) and I have been friends for 20 years.  Scary, but true.  So I thought I'd remind her of that fact, and let her know how much I value her friendship.  She loved it so much she put that photo (above) on facebook to tell the world, which in turn, made me feel good for sending her the card!  Just a win-win all around I'd say.


So I'm going to keep on sending out postcards all year long.  No one will know when they'll get one, or what it will be of (the one I sent my friend Kat was from New Orleans - Bourbon Street - circa 1995), but I'm hoping that when they do, they'll smile.  And maybe do a little jig of joy or a squee of delight.




x

Directions

While clearing out the study at LB's place at Christmas I discovered a box of old bits and pieces from my move overseas as a young, green, twenty-something. A large number of the discovered items were binned, but some I thought it worth keeping.  Like a huge bunch of postcards, which I am using to embark upon a "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard" project.  

But that's another post.  This post is dedicated to Directions.  Yes.  Directions.  Before the wonders of GPS there were paper maps. And handwritten directions.  Not always the most reliable of things, but then neither are Garmin and Tomtom.

When I first went to the USA in 1995, I took with me an Amtrak pass.  Seemed like the best way for me to cover as much ground as possible.  However, staying in a hostel in Santa Monica, I got to chatting with my fellow hostelers who all said that Amtrak was rubbish.  Trains ran at odd times, most of the stations were in dodgy locations of the city and not within easy reach of hostels, you had to use the whole pass up within a restricted time period and you couldn't go "off the beaten track" so to speak.

They (helpfully) suggested the best way to see the country was by car.  Trouble was, I wasn't 25, so I wasn't allowed to hire a car.  What to do, what to do?  Hey, I know... "buy a car" said a couple of my hosteling mates.  S'easy. 

So I did.  I bought a car.  A silvery-bronze Pontiac Sunbird.  It was a cracking little car.  Took me all around the USA - 32 states in total.  We went through a lot that car and I.  So many stories.

I had one enormous map book (which is still at LB's with all my markings of where I was going/where I'd been) and lots of those fold out maps for individual cities/towns which you'd buy for $2 at a gas station.  Don't know what became of those... think I binned them at the end of my time there.

Sometimes though, you needed a bit more detail to get where you were going.  And sometimes you just needed a cheat sheet for easy reference when you were in a car without a navigator (especially when you were still adjusting to driving on the opposite side of the road in a car where the gear stick was on the opposite side of where you were used to it being).

That's where these came in handy:

1.  

2.  

3.  

Hand-written directions to the places I needed to go.  Classic.  

1.  Directions to the Osbornes'. The Osbornes are my cousins.  I stayed with them most of the time I was in the States.  They. Are. Awesome.  Despite the fact that they're family.  They were on a work exchange program to Vienna, Virginia for a few years and I spent many happy days in their company, taking in the sights of the local area, sampling the the local restaurants/bars or even just picking up the mini-Osbornes from school and hanging out at Borders reading magazines and drinking Pink Lemonade Snapple.  Obviously after a week or so, I no longer needed these directions, and I'm pretty sure that even today I could drive you there from memory; but I like that I still have them.

2.  Directions to Michele Straka's.  Michele was introduced to y'all in this post.  She's my Blizzard of '96 buddy.  I did get slightly distracted on my way to her place - spent a day or two in Baltimore checking it out.  My favourite thing about this particular set of directions is the horseshoe diagram I've done to indicate which apartment she was living in.  OCD much?!

3.  Directions to Chris Sullivan's.  Sully, as he was soon to become known to me, was an old high school friend of Michele's who was studying at Georgia Tech, and offered me a place to crash when visiting Atlanta.  This "place to crash" was in fact, a frat house.  Yes. A FRAT HOUSE.  Not the one shown, unfortunately.  That one was built in 2010.  The one I stayed in was probably built in the sixties and bore more than a passing resemblance to the frat houses depicted in Animal House.  Never in a million years would I have expected to end up staying in a frat house.  Probably neither did anyone else who knew me at the time.  But I did and it was awesome.  Sully was awesome, all his frat buddies were awesome, even if they did nickname me "LK" (which stood for Little Kangaroo), and the frat's president (Retz - yes that was his name) had his best friend (Jenn) visiting the same weekend I was there, so I wasn't the only girl in the house.  

Good times.  Good times.

They're the kind of memories you don't get to keep when you've got GPS.  Although Garmin's placement of me on my most recent US trip did make me giggle.

I think another road trip may be on the cards.  Except I don't have a car.  Hmmm.  Slight problem that.  Perhaps I just need to find a willing partner-in-crime with wheels and a bit of spare time up their sleeve.  Any takers?

x

Sugar Sugar

So today I finally ticked off one of those really annoying fixit things from my to-do list. 

You know the ones.  Those little fixit jobs that you know will only take about ten minutes, a little superglue and a pair of steady hands to fix, but you put off. And off.  And off.  Until you wind up shoving the broken item away in a drawer/box/cupboard, only to be discovered years later when you're moving house.  At which point you throw said item in a box with a mental note to "fix that when I'm in the new house".  Except you don't.  You get to the new house, unpack the box and shove the broken item in another drawer (which you know you'll hardly ever open) with another mental note to "fix it later".

Well today... TODAY was later.

To be fair, I did open the drawer and discover the broken item wrapped in butchers paper about three days ago and sat it out on the kitchen bench; to remind myself to fix it.

Then yesterday I got the superglue out of the toolbox in the utility cupboard and sat that on the kitchen bench next to the broken item; to remind myself to fix it.

So essentially, "today" is actually three days in the making.  Well, three days and more years than I care to remember.

But what the heck.  Tonight, I fixed the item that's been broken for (I'm guessing) about eleven years.  

I'm giving myself a huge high five.  

Yep.  A HUGE high five.  

For FIXING THE LID TO THE SUGAR BOWL.

Eleven years and I finally have a sugar bowl with a lid again.  Sure, I could've binned the whole thing when it was smashed by an old flatmate (who was, bless her, rather on the clumsy side) and bought a new one.  Most normal people would have done that.*

It's the lid for a sugar bowl.  

It's not Wedgwood or Spode or any other brand of fine bone china you'd be thrilled to discover was worth a gazillion if you took it to those lovely chaps at the Antiques Roadshow.  It's just a regular sky blue china lid for a regular sky blue china sugar bowl.  

BUT... it was my grandmother's sugar bowl.  Every time I make a cup of tea I'm reminded of her and it makes me smile.  Grandma Nell was the sweetest, gentlest person I've ever known. I spent every summer with her as a kid and never, ever heard her raise her voice at anyone.  She also made an awesome cup of tea and the best scones this side of Cornwall.

I think she'd be pretty happy I refused to throw her old sugar bowl out.  Pretty ticked off it took me eleven-ish years to fix it, yes.  But pretty happy nonetheless.  

(Even if it is a bit of a botch job due to a few slivers going missing, so it doesn't quite fit together properly.  But then no one's perfect. Not even the lid for a sugar bowl.)

x




* And let's face it. Normal is not a word you'd ever associate with me.

Snails move faster...

This day has been ridiculously slow.  RIDICULOUSLY SLOW.


Really.


It's my second day back at Melbourne HQ of the biz of show, after three weeks in Radelaide, visiting my family and "working" on A Chorus Line.  I use inverted commas on the word "working", since I doubt very much that turning up for 1.5 to 2 hours and handing out a maximum of 3 tickets per show qualifies as actual work.  Still, it beats taking three weeks of annual leave.


There are no major musicals on in Melbourne at the moment.  A grave oversight by the producers of Australia in my opinion.  Melbourne is always packed full of interstate and overseas tennis fans in January and they're used to having their choice of shows to see when they want a night off from the tennis.  To come to Melbourne and discover there is nothing on in the way of musicals is incomprehensible to most of them.


Epic fail, Frosty, Rigby and co.  Epic fail.


So here I sit, contemplating my navel whilst I tell the rare person who does wander in that there are no shows they can see in the next few weeks.


It's very boring, but it has inspired me to do a little CV updating and job hunting.  Or at least figuring out what I'd like to do for a job.  Sure as hell can't stay in ticketing another year - it's doing my head in.


Stay tuned peeps.


In other news, I am about to embark upon a French Regional Cooking course with my friend Jerry.  Five weeks, including one week of "Cooking with Wine" and one week of "Cooking with Cheese".  If that's not reason enough to enrol, I don't know what is.  Can't wait.


I'm also investigating art courses.  As in, how to draw.  I'm the world's worst, even at stick figures (although I did do rather well in high school when we did cubism) and I have an idea for a story which would include illustrations (no - not a children's book), but I'd rather like to be able to draw them myself.  Any suggestions on good short courses, Melbourne people?


I'll leave you today with an article from the New Yorker, written by one of my favourite writers/actresses, Mindy Kaling.  I think she's hilariously awesome.  If we knew each other, I'm sure we'd get along swimmingly.


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