Madeline, and Life

In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines
Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.
In two straight lines they broke their bread,
And brushed their teeth, and went to bed.

They smiled at the good, and frowned at the bad,
And sometimes they were very sad.
They left the house at half-past nine,
in two straight lines, in rain or shine.

From Madeline, by Ludwig Bemelmans. Missy's favourite library book this week. She turns the pages and points to each, saying (for the left-hand page) "brush their teeth" and (the right) "went to bed". Brush their teeth, went to bed. Brush their teeth, went to bed. Good story, I reckon. And no one could tell it better than that.

I love children's stories that are written in rhymes. It feels so satisfying to read, and the girls pay more attention because the tune of the story is attractive and catching to their always-learning, joy-finding little minds.

It's funny how the little things can be so satisfying. Reading a funny story to a captivated 3-year-old, watching two little girls potter about in the back garden (as I'm doing right now through the window next to my desk), enjoying a home-cooked meal and watching your family enjoy it too. Maybe that's the key to it - seeing other people's enjoyment - especially others that you love and would do anything for. To see them finding even little bits and pieces of happiness is such a treasure, and to be providing some of that happiness - well, what an honour, I say.

I was just talking on the phone to my dearest friend, Lusi, and we were reminding one another how strange life is. 5 years ago we were finishing our degrees at college, thinking that we knew everything and believeing that we had to "do it all" right this minute before we missed our chance. Well, here we are, 5 years on and both living life in ways that just weren't in the script back then. We haven't "missed our chance", not at all, we've taken different chances and found new joys that we hadn't thought of back then when we knew everything.

There's always the rest of one's life for all the chances one can find. And hey, I plan to jolly well find them!

"Mummy likes Johnny Depp too much"

said Noel to the girls.

Said I in reply: "Well, he's brilliant." and then "You like Angelina Jolie too much, and you don't even have a good reason."

"Boobs" he said. "That's a good reason. And mouth. Two good reasons."

*sigh*

Seriously though, apart from being almost ridiculously sexy for a 46-year-old, Johnny Depp is brilliant. I just love that he never plays the boring old "romantic lead", he chooses fabulous characters and does all of them with such style and... completeness... is that a word? He really delves into his characters and makes them deep, wonderful, complete people.

I'm so looking forward to Pirates of the Caribbean... Dead Man's Chest. There's a cinema just down the road from me and they've had the poster up for ages... it's a nice little distraction to stroll past Johnny's glinting eyes as I walk to the shops.

And, rumour has it that Johnny might be playing Michael Hutchence in the new movie about his life. Which I think would be perfect. Of course I think that...

*Noel rolls his eyes*

Well, I'm glad I went.

That's all I can report for now. :)

The audition was pretty good really, a bit nerve-wracking and I was a bit flustered but as good as you would expect one's first audition in 4 years to be! I remembered the monologue correctly (enough) anyway!

I have a feeling I wouldn't have come across very well on camera - and it was disconcerting that the panel had to keep switching between looking at me and at the video screen. Directors at auditions are notoriously good at not revealing what they really think. Good poker faces, they have.
Or maybe that's just how directors look at me, cos I'm no good...

No, stop! None of that negativity Sumara dear. *wags finger* "You have as good a chance as anybody else", she says, reminding herself of Charlie Buckett and his Golden Ticket. "You never know."

Noel, darling boy that he is, even drove me there and waited outside in the car with the girls - and didn't complain once. Good boy, Noely. ;)

All in all, a good experience. A nice little step forward.

The Aforementioned Wander

So, I did the wander around today. Braced myself for the probable rejection and approached about 20 shops and cafes, resume in hand. (Because I'm sure the local Baker's Delight is really interested in the fact that I was "Street Theatre Coordinator" the the Sydney Olympian parades and that I did lighting a few times at Newtown Theatre.)

Five people took my details. Three of those for "just in case" but they don't need anyone right now, one actually had a sign up (score!) and the last one were really friendly and interested but I couldn't figure out if they actually needed anyone or not. I guess they'll call me. ;-)

Three other places wouldn't have a bar of me because I'm too old. Yep, at 25 I'm too old for work. *sob* Shame, because I would've really loved working with all those 16-year-olds and being paid $4.23 an hour to serve dodgy coffee.

Can I just recommend NOT going job-hunting for more than twenty seconds with two children in tow. I'm sure I don't need to explain why.

Next task - register again on the Coles Myer website in the hope that they take somewhat less than a year to get back to me this time!

Floppy Hat

"My floppy one hat,
My floppy two hat
Floppy hat, floppy hat,
Floppy one two!

One, one, one, two,
My hat floppy hat!
One, two, three, four, five, six, nine!
Doesn't matter, my hat!

My ha-a-a-a-at!
It's mi-i-i-i-ne...."

That's my Missy girl, singing up a storm in the kitchen. Gotta love freshly-created preschooler songs!

Beat their heads against a wall!

The Australians. The Australians beat their heads against a wall. It's the Italians who wave their arms in the air. !

My Missy girl thinks I'm a nutter because I keep randomly standing up, while she's playing happily, and talking to some invisible person on the couch about Italians and Americans and clear dazzling light.

Considering she's a complete nutter herself (yesterday and today she keeps coming out with totally uncalled-for "I SO sorry!" at random moments), I think I'll get away with it.

Speaking of nutcases, Noel asked me yesterday, during a corker of an argument, "so how long between doing unpaid acting jobs and getting paid acting jobs?" Now there's a question for you... ummm, well, exactly 2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days and 17 hours after the 3rd unpaid job, I qualify for the paid one.

But only if my husband signs the form that says "I love my wife to the moon and back and will support her every wish and dream until she is successful at whatever she so desires to be successful at".

How does that sound?

But, in the interests of boring mundane stuff like being able to eat out every now and then and buying the girls shoes for winter (you know, the luxuries!), I've decided to look for a job. However I'm going to be very demanding about it so I don't know what my chances'll be. I want one or two days a week, no more. Preferably Sunday and one weekday. Can't do nights. So I'm writing up a bit of a resume-slash-cover-letter-slash-plea-for-charity, and will wander around the town tomorrow handing that out to unsuspecting retailers.

Best be off and do it, I guess. :)

Wonder of wonders...

miracle of miracles,
god took a Daniel once again.
Turned him around and
MIRACLE of miracles!
Walked him through.... THE KITCHEN, and he COOKED DINNER!

Okay, so it wasn't Daniel. It was my husband Noel, the self-proclaimed 1950s non-cooking, non-house-cleaning, "bringin' home the bacon" man. He cooked dinner tonight. And it was really yummy! And healthy! A soupy/stewy kinda thing with sausages, lots of veggies and stock and herbs. YUM!

Chippendale!

Okay, just because I know you were all dying to know if I found out the address for the audition - it's in Chippendale. I had to ask Noel where that is but hey, I'll find it. Actually I have to be in Petersham at lunchtime Sunday so if Noel's not working we'll make a day of it. Have an early dinner, somewhere near either Petersham or Chippendale.... hopefully those two illustrious locations are somewhere near each other! (it's okay, I'll find them, really I will...)

Still no location

For the audition, that is. Perhaps he thinks he's going to audition me via email.

Got the monologue down almost. Just the usual phrasing mix-ups to muddle my head around.

Speaking of phrasing, here's the other thing I just can't help memorising this week...

It was drowsily warm
with dozens of bees
lazily buzzing through flowers and trees.
Hairy Maclary decided to choose
a space in the shade for his afternoon snooze.
He dozily dreamed
as he lay on his back
when

Pittery pattery
Skittery skattery
ZIP round the corner
came Zachary Quack
who wanted to frolic and footle and play
but
Hairy Maclary skedaddled away.

Over the lawn and asparagus bed
Went Hairy Maclary to hide in the shed.
He lurked in the shadows all dusty and black
but

Pittery Pattery
Skittery Skattery
Zip round the corner came Zachary Quack....
(from Hairy Maclary and Zachary Quack by Lynley Dodd) (one of this week's library books)

I could keep going, but that should be enough to bore you!

Another Beginning

So.... here I am, blogging. Really, I just want to write stuff down that I don't write or say anywhere else because people might not actually care... whereas here, people can care or not care and I don't ever have to know either way! I'm probably going to talk about where I'm at with theatre stuff (whichever side of the stage or camera I'm on) - I really need to get back into that and work my way properly into that fascinating, thrilling, weird industry that I love. I might ramble on about the movies I love, the actors I'm noticing, the news stories that catch my eye. More than likely I'll rave about my gorgeous daughters, let's call them Missy and Bear, and might even briefly mention my darling long-suffering husband Noel. ;)

I'm a bit excited and nervous this week because I have an audition on Sunday for a short film. A "psychological thriller" apparently, being filmed in July/August. Not getting my hopes up or anything because, let's face it, it's been years since I've acted. But, I refuse to be negative because I believe I'm always in with a chance. They might just happen to like me.

Apart from the vague hope of getting a role, I'm just excited at the mere fact of getting back into the "game" - this audition will be more than worthwhile, no matter thw outcome, because it will be the first step, and after that every step will be just that little bit easier.

The director was unsuitably vague about the audition - he hasn't given me a location yet despite having a confirmed time, and the type of monologue he wants to see is "whatever you're comfortable with".

Fair enough, he probably had a million people asking.

So, this is what I'm doing:. From Europe, by Michael Gow.

Always "us", "all of you", "we", "them". Never "I", "me", just "you alone".
Do you ever think of just one individual person? Can you look at one human being and see only one human being, or do you have to see millions of others, standing behind in a crowd that stretches to the horizon? Germans who are punctual, Frenchman who all wear berets, Italians all waving their arms in the air, Americans chewing gum?
What do all Australians do? How do you see them?
I'll tell you what they all do - they beat their heads against a wall crying "We don't need you. We're as good as you. We are happy with ourselves". That's all anyone said while I was there. They told me over and over and over again how independend you all were, how grown-up you all have become, how confident, how open, mature, positive, repeating it all constantly like a chant. But it can't be true. No one who is happy has to repeat "I am happy" a thousand times a day to convince himself. All of you are deeply unhappy, as unhappy as everybody else. You are all paranoiacs.
You see, I can play that game, I can put you at the front of a crowd and pretend that you represent them all. I can go on and on too. I can say that your newness, your freshness, your freedom from tradition attracted my world-weary, neurotic decaying European sensibility. I can say you represent all the things that are mnissing from my life: romance, laughter, space, clear dazzling light.
But I would be talking in cliches. It would have no meaning.

So... let's hope I can find some moments to rehearse that this week. Perhaps the girls will make a good audience. (well, they'd be good for me to practice dealing with a rude distracted audience!)