Stop. Nanna-Time.

I had mentioned in a previous post that I have begun to prematurely Nanna. By that, I mean, I have noticed some behavioural changes that lean toward the inner senior citizen in me. I have every confidence that my inner child still exists, I am just worried that the senior citizen (pushy as they can be) will start calling all the shots.

For instance, I am an early riser - not by nature, purely due to my job, however, I find it increasingly annoying to sleep in and "miss half the day" now. My body clock (after nearly 6 years of training) wakes me up, on weekends, even after a very late night, by 7am every day. Not a problem if you can merely roll over and go back to sleep - not me. I start to think about putting on some washing or going for a walk - mostly I just end up reading, but still, that's a Nanna thing.
I also think nothing of having dinner at 5.30pm. Again, this is mainly for convenience, as I would only do this if I had something else on that night and I would not get home till really late ... But still. Dinner with Deal or No Deal - that's a Nanna thing.
I would rather put on all of my clothes at once than put on a heater, I am scared of teenagers, I do not understand Emo, I have a freezer full of bananas just waiting to be made into bread - ALL NANNA THINGS and last night was the most Nanna of all. I found a Woody Allen movie a little too disturbing to watch just before bed. Make no mistake, I was enjoying it no end, its just as it neared midnight and the film neared its climax, I begun to get so anxious that I could not watch it anymore. I had to pour myself a glass of port, watch some mindless American "dramedy" and put myself to bed. This is a Nanna thing. Where has my spunk gone? My pluck? Apart from the obvious reasons, why do I find CSI so offensive? Its the Nanna in me.

And she's got me scared.

Must be time for another tattoo!

Welcome to my world....

Easy Peasy

At exactly the time when I was ready to pull various strands of my hair out this morning through the many frustrations that come through not quite understanding how I am meant to do my job, I was quickly reminded just how easily distracted and made happy I can be....

These things made me smile today -

- placing a prank phone call
- finding a short film by a friend on YouTube
- having left over spaghetti for lunch
- someone saving me a piece of cake
- faking my laugh until I genuinely laughed to make someone else laugh
- the chicken dance (Arrested Development style)
- knowing that there are social drinks on Sunday
- schadenfraude
- a crazy accent
- thinking about the last month
- completely a difficult (for me) calculation
- working out the right way of doing something (after doing it wrong for weeks!)

And its only just time to leave work. Indeed, happy days!

Why?

Why are all the post boxes on the OTHER side of the road?

Taxi Cab Confessions

This is what happened:

Dusk, King St Newtown, I had five minutes to get to the pub and meet Cale, the Canadian, Coaster, Friend for a beer before he went to class. My spirits were high and thirst ready for quenching as I hit the street. Damn. Uphill. Unfit. Best flag down a cab.

Moments later I am in the front seat, directing the driver to an ATM and the pub in question. He obliges, starting to chat. I am not sure what the segue could have possibly been - or the catalyst for his train of thought going to where it went - but indeed, I was not expecting the following dialogue. Oh no, I was not expecting it at all.

Its fairly obvious he really wanted to tell his story, he drove particularly slowly for the flow of traffic and he certainly was not in a hurry to move off the mark as the lights changed from red to green.

His wife left him five years ago and was currently "shacked up with a 32 year old." The ex was 54. Their daughter was living with his ex-wife and a strictly religious 28 year old so she was "saving herself for marriage" should not have to bear witness to such debauchery. This was tearing him apart, that and the fact that the ex-wife had taken him for everything he had, which he pointed out, was not much. He never used to drink, but since the 32 year old moved in, he has been known to drink a bottle of whiskey in one night and get up and go to work.(At this stage I was taking down the drivers licence number!) Then, and lets remember, at best this was a five to ten minute journey, he really opened up.

"I think I am ready to end it. I have a gun, I will shoot myself and be rid of this forever." I did not want to know, I did not want to care, I did not want to be involved. But I was. And I was paying him for the privilege.

"Anywhere along here thanks." I said, encouragingly. And then I added something along the lines of not killing himself because he needed to be there for his daughter and where would I be if he had not come along? - walking slowly uphill and not at all close to a pint of lager. OK, so maybe it was not the time or place for funny. I was not at all prepared for what had just taken place. Poor excuse I know, but there it is.

Moments later, beer in hand and friend sitting opposite, life had moved on....except that I really hoped that lonely man would be OK.

Now I sit at work, bullied by my co-workers for singing too loudly. "I wish they'd drag you back to re-hab" was one comment regarding a particular song I was singing. Maybe they just need five minutes with the man I met last night, him at the wheel and his life falling apart, to know that there are worse things in life than having to put up with my singing.....

And now -

The sickness comes. Yes, I have finally succumbed to the land of cold and flu. Still, its worth the snot really.

And here is a photo of the Scrabble Unscripted cast with Dave Callan and our best "zombie" faces...not sure what I am thinking...

If I could then I would, but I can't so I won't....

I am referring to posting a blog about the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. Its just impossible to put into words the experience of April 2007...as Jordan Raskopolous pointed out "Words have not failed you Amanda Buckley, no, YOU have failed words."
That is to say, I have tried and failed and what is left is a mere rundown on the events of last month.
Firstly, our show Scrabble Unscripted went better than we could have imagined and I guess, I mean, at the end of the day, thats what we were there for - to put on a kick arse comedy show. What happened though, I found, is that everything else about the festival seemed to overtake the original goal. Pre-sales, flyering, warm-ups and set-ups are your routine, but the networking, the dancing, the drinking, the venue hopping, the hanging around, the flirting, the late night (read: early morning) debriefs to the who's and the what's all become the things you dig even deeper into the well of energy to take part in.
Its safe to say that I have never been one for the sleeping and have on more than a dozen occasions sacrificed my general well-being to stay out that little bit longer, to suck on the marrow (if you will). I now have a sleep debt, that one day, not only my children, but my childrens children shall inherit. At least I have something to leave behind....
Two of the most amazing highlights (she says, almost forgetting, once again, the reason she was there) apart from the success of Scrabble (she says, making amends) was singing "Flashdance" with 80's Enuff at Trades Hall, a truly joyous and unforgettable moment in my life, thanks of course to Suz and Lis for the hair and the moves and Mark Watsons 24 hr Gig. This is where words really fail me (sorry, where I really fail words) to summate as best possible, Mark Watson put on a 24 hr gig, successfully, much to the dismay of his emotional and mental and possibly physical state. At some stage I was laughing uncontrollably which somehow resulted in me going on a 9hr date with a 19 year old guy named Jono to the Yarra Valley, culminating in a ride with him on the ferris wheel in Federation Square. Of course, this was only about a 1/15 of the gigs focus, there was a hundred other things happening during the course of that 24 hours, but it was such a fabulous thing to be a part of that it would be remiss of me not to make quite the point of it.
The remaining parts of the month are many and wondrous and a blur of memories - gin, cigarettes, laughter, hugs, kisses, long gazes, car trips, music, crazy accents, long walks, glorious Autumn in Fitzroy Gardens, laneways, cups of coffee, soy milk, sushi, custard, smiles, questions and answers, welcoming strangers and steadfast friends. And sideburns. And an airport moment I will never forget. Sigh. Sniff. Sob.