You know you should get out more when you’re still tired three days after your big night out. It’s kind of sad. I feel kind of sad, and not to mention unmotivated to do anything…especially a 1500 word essay on Jane Eyre and feminism. Right now I think watching the new Game of Thrones takes priority over such things, and it’s not hard to convince myself of that.
Seeing as though all I feel like doing is having a cup of tea and a piece of sunken, perhaps undercooked banana bread (yay me and my cooking skills), I thought I’d just dredge up some random thing I wrote on Australia Day but did not publish. Prepared to be marveled…or not. You know I should probably just blog when I have something worthwhile, but I do want to consistently be in people’s faces. Try as you might, you can’t escape the ramblings of the blog monster. Just like a bad horror movie you can keep killing the thing but it always comes back with new and creative ways to murder screaming, blond bimbos, like with a bowling ball or a robot with the soul of some guy’s dead girlfriend, murdered by her father pushing her down the living room stairs…(P.S. I saw that movie when I was little and it scared the crap out of me. Damn you daytime cable TV!)
Eh hem, anyways, this one was called “Red Wine and Reminiscing”
“Red wine and back yard barbecues give me a bad case of nostalgia for the ‘good old days’. Not necessarily the days of drinking wine and charing chicken nibblets on the hot plate, but of the days when I was young and fancy free, of my old houses, my old town and so forth. The days when my parents would go out with their friends to the local ‘UpFront Club’ to see a band, and my little self would fall asleep under the table wrapped up in mum and dad’s discarded coats.
My parents used to be involved with the local community theatre. There are many great memories of hanging out with the cast in the room below the stage, watching from behind the stairwell curtain and the over zealous director scolding me for doing so. When I was in primary school I used to help my mum remember all the lines to the songs she was given to sing, thus being the reason an 8 or so year old would know all the lyrics to ‘Like a Virgin’. I would also like to thank the musical director of the ‘Maleny Players’ for putting Abba songs in every single play – I did not get tired of hearing Waterloo, Mamma-Mia and every other classic, over and over and over and over…
I was not immune from following in my parents footsteps, I too forayed in the dramatic arts, with my stirring and insightful portrayal of the Dodo from Alice in Wonderland, and my equally moving performance as the Eight of Spades. I’m telling you I could have been Alice, if I was about a couple inches shorter and could hold a tune on my own…
Do you know what else I loved about my childhood? Well, pretty much everything. I was extremely lucky growing up in a place where I was free to be a kid – perhaps a little longer than usual…as you can probably tell from the advanced maturity of my writing. Yes, one day I hope to bring my kids up in a small country town and allow them to create the same memories that I look so fondly back on today.
And maybe if I drink enough red wine I’ll tell you all about it someday.”
No! Don’t go down into the dark basement to check that fuse box, that’s where the ghost of an 18th century Japanese girl lives who was consumed by fire and wants to eat your eyeballs for some reason completely unrelated to her motivation! If you kill her with that broken power cord of the vacuum cleaner she’ll only come back twice as badass…just like this blog will…
Until next time, bonsoir victims.