During an audition reading today, from the script of “The Pirates of Penzance”:
“If, and I say if, you really are a beautiful woman, there shall be no obstacle to our onion…”
Union. Onion.
So close.
Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
Author: wordynerdbird
Funny things I have heard in restaurants #1
Our waitress just arrived at our table with dessert, and announced quite loudly, “Hi, I’ve got a sticky date…”
She didn’t even blink when I was obviously trying not to crack up.
She didn’t announce the two serves of lemon meringue pie she was carrying, either.
Words of Wisdom #1
“You can tell me what to do, or you can tell me how to do it. You can’t do both. This isn’t sex.”
[Howard Wolowitz, Big Bang Theory]
Observations at a wedding.
1. It’s obviously OK to wear black to weddings now. It may not be OK not to.
2. Facial hair is obviously back in.
3. It is possible to walk in heels almost as tall as oneself.
4. The right hat on the right guy is absolutely awesome.
Commuting.
Many people spend 45 minutes or more in the car travelling to and from work each day. My lot in life is not much different to theirs in that regard.
However, while they sit in traffic jams or take alternate routes to avoid them, my trip is far less stressful.
Ten minutes after leaving school, I leave the suburbs, the traffic lights and the traffic behind me. The outskirts of town fade into a patchwork of farmland. Cows graze in paddocks beside the road or walk lazily to the dairies where they will be milked for the second time today.
Trees along the roadside become more dense along the farm boundaries, which then give way to natural Australian bushland where graceful gum trees and bright yellow wattle trees congregate in silent beauty. It’s not unusual to see kangaroos or koalas here, especially in the early morning or at night.
The bush opens again into farmland, but the road is still lined with trees that were never cleared when the farms were established. The sun shines through them, giving them a warm amber glow.
I smile, reflecting on the fact that not many people have a drive to work that is as beautiful as mine.
Torn.
If people would just stop asking me if I am happy to be back from Canada, I wouldn’t have to keep saying “no”.
Every time I say it I feel torn between my two realities.
And if people would stop looking at me when a sneaky tear rolls down my cheek, I’d really appreciate that.
If people would stop staring at me when it’s obvious I am upset, that would help too.
It’s bad enough feeling the way I do, having to resume life as it was before I left and having tears very close to the surface, ready to roll at any moment, without people looking at me all the time and uttering complacent little consolations like “it’s the jetlag” and “you’ll be right when you get back into it”.
I’m not OK right now. That’s all there is to it. Just let me be.
I’m not depressed.
I’m sad.
There is a world of difference.
It would be so much easier if I were completely happy to be back. But that isn’t how it is and it doesn’t feel as though that’s going to happen. Not yet, anyway.
Now more than ever, I know part of me belongs there.
Part of my heart got left behind.
Perpetual emotion.
A single tear
trickles
leaving a glistening trail
down my cheek.
I wipe it away
only to find it
replaced by
another.
Home.
The familiar scenery of south-western Victoria unfolds along the drive home from the airport.
Green grass, cows in paddocks, rolling hills. Gum trees line the road and the early autumn sunshine filters through them.
It’s all so beautiful and so normal and I find it jarring that I find it comforting in some way, because I didn’t want to come home in the first place.
Silent tears roll down my cheek.
If anyone notices, I’ll just let them assume it’s because I’m tired or I’m happy to be back.
As we roll into the driveway, I see that my maple trees have their first full autumn colour. They really are beautiful.
My dog runs to meet me. She is beside herself with happiness. Her tail is wagging so hard that she can’t control the rest of her body.
As I unpack my bags, she follows me everywhere. She’s probably making sure that things come out of the suitcase and nothing goes back in.
When I sit down, she is my my side, seeking contact and cuddles and my hand on her head. Then she settles down, puts her head on my foot and goes to sleep.
It’s the first time I am happy to be home.
Jetsetting #8
It had to happen.
Sooner or later, on one of our short changeover schedules, we were going to miss a flight.
I had a sinking feeling at 5am when the Captain announced that we had made excellent time but that air traffic control were not going to allow us to land until 6.20am.
That was going to make our connection schedule very tight. We had less than 40 minutes to get through immigration, collect our bags, clear Australian Customs and get from Sydney’s International Terminal across to the Domestic Terminal – a ten minute bus ride – clear security again, and get to the gate for our flight to Melbourne.
Naturally, that didn’t happen.
Customs was not so bad because I declared that I was carrying medications and nuts.
I’ve discovered you get through much faster if you declare something than if you don’t, because you get sorted into different lines than everyone else. It’s worth buying a bag of peanuts or cashews at the airport just before you fly, even if you have no intention of eating them.
I made it through Customs faster than my companions, but we were never going to complete the rest of the process in time.
Virgin Australia switched us onto the next flight at no extra charge, but there was no guarantee that all of our baggage would arrive at the same time as us because my bag had already been transferred through.
As we were leaving the plane, I looked out the window and saw my shiny red suitcase on the cart. That was a very happy moment indeed.
We collected our bags for the last time, piled them up, and hoped like crazy that my brother-in-law was bringing our Jeep to collect us.
Mid-flight #14
It’s stupid o’clock in the morning and I’m having trouble sleeping even though I’ve been asleep and would desperately like to have stayed that way.
It doesn’t help that I am missing certain people terribly, to the point where the tears won’t stop.
Argh. At least it’s darkened down in the cabin and nobody knows I’m sitting here being a blubbering sook.
There has been a bit of turbulence but nothing major. Just like a carnival ride, really.
The kids on the flight are all asleep. There are four or five of them in my immediate area, but they have been really well behaved. I’m grateful.
I’m colder on this flight than I have been on any other flight. That might be my degree of tiredness, or it could be my pain levels kicking my butt. What I do know is that I am feeling rather miserable right now.
An Aussie Maple Leaf, adrift on the wind... 