Thursday, December 16, 2010

Freedom of speech

This last week or so has seen the ridiculous charge against Julian Assange, the creator of Wikileaks, in Sweden of rape.

This charge refers to him having consensual sex with two women, one with whom he used a condom and the other with whom he didn't. This is a unique law to Sweden that is equated with rape. It is not acceptable to me that rape is being trivialised and the definition is being misused, in this case against a man that cannot be legally arrested for his 'offences' against the American government for printing leaked documents on Wikileaks, but who can be arrested for 'rape'.

Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press are two vital rights that must not be allowed to be violated. One of the most effective ways to keep organisations, individuals and governments 'honest', is if there is transparency of action.

Please sign the petition below to support freedom of speech.




Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Audition

Piano - Still practising two hands of my Bach Minuet

Cooking - um, made a vege and bean casserole that noone was interested in. I thought it was great. Just whacked a whole lot of veges and beans together and cooked it with stock. yum.

Book - Transferring the first draft to computer and editing as I go. Rewriting some chapters prior to transferring.

Salsa - goal abandoned.

The Audition - For those who want to know more

Despite committing myself publicly to the goals of : Learning to play piano, Writing a novel, Learning to cook better food, Learning to dance Salsa - I keep getting sidetracked by theatre business.

Having done my undergraduate and masters degrees in theatre performance and having worked professionally for many years, I do find it hard to let theatre go. I 'gave it up' around the time I turned 30. That is, I gave up the idea of auditions, of producing and directing and writing and starring in my own production, of applying for funding etc etc. I never gave up doing workshops, further formal learning, or teaching theatre. I have always kept my finger in the pie.

Every now and then the opportunity to audition for a role pops up - and I take it. This time, it was the opportunity to audition for a role as an ensemble performer in 'As You Like It', by Shakespeare. I attended an audition refresher course, I re read the play, I explored the text critically, rhythmically, physically, emotionally, vocally and probably existentially...all this took a couple of weeks.

When I turned up to the warehouse where the audition was to take place I saw many familiar faces including someone I had performed with a couple of years ago and someone I had directed this year. I didn't make the mistake of chatting and losing my character or ruining the long vocal warm up I had done that morning. I placed myself in a corner of the room and continued a vocal warm up, which involved 'picking peaches', 'pulling the barge' and 'bow and arrow'.

When I was called I was embraced by the director, who I know through the many and varied acting and directing courses that I take. I walked to the rear of the large stage in the enormous and empty warehouse space and projected to the director - making strong contact with the poor stage manager and following my Stanislavskian intentions to the letter.

The director didn't look at me but started leafing through the play. When I was done she asked me a few questions about my interpretation of the text and then directed me. Getting direction during an audition is usually considered a good thing, so I was pleased. About five lines through the director said, 'ok, thanks Susannah'.

there was silence.

'thankyou'. I said.

more silence. I left.

'that was good', said the girl whose job it was to lead the actors to the right room in the warehouse. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. There's no need to talk about it, we both know how it goes.

I assumed that I didn't have a callback, where they audition you with more intensity, as I wasn't asked to come back at the audition. But you never know. Perhaps the fact that the director was auditioning four people every fifteen minutes and had sixty people to look at that day made her evaluate her callback decisions later. As the days passed, my hope waned.

Finally three days later I received my rejection email. It had a lovely personal message attached that congratulated me on how prepared I was and told me that I had definately been in the running for the part - but she'd cast a more experienced actor.

'That's a really shit industry', said my husband.

I remember again why I felt I didn't have the strength to keep going and going with acting as my career...... oh I do love it though.

I had wondered if I could delay my conception plans until after the play was finished, which would have been a delay of four months. I wondered and wavered until by the time I was ready to do the audition I was determined to accept the role if offered and delay having a baby, despite my steadily ageing eggs.

'I can have a baby then', I say sheepishly to my husband. He smiles. We both know it's not that easy.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

I needed to rest emotionally after my miscarriage, loney D&C and hectic holiday to visit the in laws. Hence the eight weeks or so since my last entry. After spending my time meeting doctors and making appointments for the operation I finally got on the plane to the UK to meet my husband and daughter - who had been sorely missed. Imogen, miss two, was a bit reserved for the first day - seemingly cross with me for making her miss me - as she then clung strongly for the rest of the month long holiday.

The holiday was wonderful. Glasgow is gorgeous and we had the one week of sunny weather that they get at our full disposal. Bath was beautiful and full of Jane Austen references that my book loving self indulged in fully. Bournemouth was pleasant - but rainy. But London - London was the best. Notting Hill, Bayswater, Chelsea, Hyde Park, I could go on and on.

And so the attempts at conceiving continue... .
The piano, the salsa, the book, the cooking - it all fades into insignificance as it is set against the context of having a baby. My desire to find an identity, to achieve goals and to be someone extra than who I was have all faded.

Although -
Piano - still thumping away at Bach's Minuet 3. Two hands now, just not even or beautiful yet.
Salsa - Forget it
Cooking - Brown rice risotto, wholemeal pasta dishes, laksa's, vege wraps etc. The same as before I started the blog...whatever. . I haven't opened a cookbook in months.
The Book - I am, I do admit, feeling proud and excited about this. I'm onto my second draft and enjoying every minute of it.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

A missed baby

Book - I have finished the first draft of fifteen chapters of my nineteen chapter book. yay.

Cooking -
Roasted vegetable and feta tart - The vegetarian student cookbook, Hamlyn
Vera's Salad dressing -
Apple Cider Vinegar 3 tbsp
Honey 1 tspn
Olive Oil 3tbspn
Water 2 Tbspn
Salt fingerful
Pepper fingerful
Green Stuff - basil, parsley, chives, spring onion (whatever you have) chopped up
Mix it all together and shake.

Piano - er, too busy.

Salsa - unable - more detail below

Pregnancy - more detail below.

My pregnancy goal - for those who want to know more.
The many many readers I have at this stage of my blog will be desperate to know where I've been. After directing the staged reading I found myself with a terrible deep tiredness. I knew that I would be weary, the little toddler was waking around three times a night and after a full day of looking after her I would then head off to direct a rather high maintenance cast for three to five hours.
But this was too much.
I eventually took a pregnancy test.
'oh', said hubby.
'I knew it', I said. Also feeling a little flat.
'It's just that I wanted our holiday to be really fun. I wanted you to get pregnant after our holiday. I know it's my fault, I'm just surprised that's all'.
'oh, well, it's just a bit earlier than expected. No drinking on our scotland holiday that's all'.
I'm also dreading the terrible nausea that I had with our first. It laid me flat from week six until week fourteen of the pregnancy. 'NOOOOOOOOHHHHH', my memory is screaming.

But we get into it. This is a wanted baby, and a planned one, just earlier than we thought.

The day before we are due to fly out Imogen is in daycare so I run around doing some last minute things before we go, like getting my bloods and my dating scan done.
'Can you wait around for a minute or two to see the doctor', a wide eyed woman asks me.
'Um, i guess, can't it wait till I get back in four weeks'.
'Well, its just routine, but it's very, very, very important you don't leave without seeing the doctor'.
She gets on the telephone to push the formal results for the scan through so that she can send it through to my GP. She asks the receptionist to call the GP to get me into his room immediately. I can see somethings up.
The receptionist peers at me through the glass window. She must forget I can hear her.
'And she thinks she's pregnant?', she says.
I call my husband.

It's not nice to tell him the heart beat stopped a couple of days ago, and not nice to say I'm not getting on the plane tomorrow morning. We're both calm and he rings the travel agent to rearrange my flight.

I have one moment of terrible terrible sadness when I'm waiting for husband to come in the door after work. We have a long hug.

The next morning I drive them to the airport and head home with purpose to organise my hospital visit. I've insisted they go. It's my husbands only holiday time and he hasn't seen his family in six years. They've never met Imogen. I call my friend.
'It's not a simple operation', she says. 'It's like what they do when you have an abortion. They put you under general anaesthetic and make you sign a form to say you won't leave the hospital unattended and they don't want you to be alone for 24 hours unless you haemorrhage or something'.
'Right. wow. Would you be able to pick me up from the hospital then? I ask.
'I'm not free actually, I met a really, really nice backpacker and we're going out for dinner. I've already cancelled on her once and I don't want to do it again'.
I feel the absence of my husband.
Fortunately my friend Kate who has a husband, a daughter, a job and not much spare time agrees to pick me up and have me stay the night at her house. I feel better.
'Are you ok?' she asks as I lie sleepily on the hospital bed.
I smile. I've just been thinking about the little person who won't be. I just want to get on that plane and get to my family.
'Yeah. Thankyou.' I'm lucky I conceive easily. I wonder about the poor women who take years to conceive and then lose a baby.
'You've got a fifty fifty chance of keeping a baby at forty', the doctor told me.
The rushed manner of dealing with it, the frantic fun filled holiday and then the serious plans to try again have kept me positive.
We're back home. And we're trying again.



Wednesday, July 14, 2010

What I need to achieve within one year while being pregnant, learning the piano, how to cook and writing a novel...hmmmmmm....!!???

The Sixth Week

Book - Nothing

Cooking - Turmeric Tofu with Cherry Tomato Quinua Pilaf from 'Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights, by Sophie Dahl. (Daughter hated it, had weetbix)

(I think that Imogen will regret not having eaten this dish as I will tell her when she is older that Sophie is the granddaughter of the man who I am sure will be one of her fave authors, Roald. I will also tell her that Sophie is my secret bff, unbeknownst to her due to the unfortunate fact that we have never met, although I imagine Imogen probably won't care about the second bit.)

Piano - After having missed my lesson last week due to Miss Imogen's illness I was very keen this week and turned up fifteen minutes early. Unfortunately I didn't have my mobile charged and missed the reminder call that it is school holidays this week. I went home again. And yes, that does mean that I am the only adult in the hall lined up waiting for my turn to enter the piano room for my half hour lesson. And no, I don't care that I am three quarters larger than the six and eight year olds who are already playing Debussy and Tchaikovsky or that I plonk away studiously while they bend and sway with emotion. Although I do have an unspoken enmity with one little fellow of Chinese descent who despises me and knocks loudly on the door when four o clock comes around. I am practising and have the right hand down, I'm struggling a little with the left.

Salsa - I received a circular newsletter from Picante dance advertising special workshops and bootcamps in Ladies Styling, Salsa, Rueda and other forms of dance. I wrote back with eager interest and booked in for Ladies Styling, a Salsa Workshop and listed my interest as being a performer for the Rueda in response to their callout. Unfortunately the workshops are happening on a day when I have had to schedule rehearsals for the staged reading of a new play by Ron Elisha that I am staging on the 27th July.

Baby - I realise I haven't commented on this, as I said I may not on my first weeks post. However, I should let you know that we are planning to stop birth control in five weeks when we are on holiday to visit the husband's family in Britain.

The Play and The Baby - For Those Who Want To Know More

The Play
I mentioned to you in my self introduction that I am a theatre practitioner. I completed my MA in theatre performance that I was completing part time, in 2007. After that I got pregnant and had a difficult pregnancy, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and after many ups and downs passed away in 2009, and I was being a new mum. Obviously I let a few things go and dedicating myself to working in an industry that is tough and callous and that often requires you to work for free to 'develop' a project prior to getting funding/a space/ a cast ect didn't seem right.
However, I have recently been in contact with a man called Ron Elisha who you will see if you google him, is an award winning playwright. I am not. I am no one. I once won a potted tree when I was 11 for drawing a bird. Fortunately Ron has allowed me to experiment with one of his works by presenting it as a staged reading in an upstairs room of a pub called the 'Toxteth'.

I was very excited about all this up until last week when we had our fourth rehearsal. It was the worst thing I have ever seen. The delightful and enthusiastic cast had not remembered a single direction I had given them, didn't demonstrate any staging knowledge and stood at the back of the stage staring directly at each other and incoherently mumbling their lines. I felt sick. Later that evening I got home to an email from Ron informing me that he would like to invite the movers and shakers from the alternative theatre programs at The Sydney Theatre Company, Belvoir and Griffin. I felt sick. 'Absolutely Ron', I emailed back.

I knew I had to get my act together.

I've called extra rehearsals, done heaps of work on the text, explained, re itereated, demonstrated and danced out my requirements. 'Um, I've got other stuff that actually takes priority over this', responded one of my overly stretched actors.

great.

I will keep you posted.

The Baby
As I told you, I had a difficult pregnancy. I had what is called Pubic Symphisitis. It is when the hormone relaxin makes itself known in your body in all the wrong spots. Relaxin is for doing just that, relaxing your pelvis so that it can separate and allow the baby to pass through it. Unfortunately it doesn't hang around only the pelvic area, it is in all your joints, such as your knees, wrists etc and it doesn't turn up just for the birth, it comes along in increasing amounts over the course of the pregnancy.
I pulled my ligament playing chasey around a drama room - a class I took before the baby came and I 'lost my life' as my friends warned me I would. It happened because I had Relaxin present, I would not normally have injured myself from this small run, the pain in my left groin region was intense and got stronger and stronger and spread to my back to the point where I couldn't work as a relief teacher any more - too much standing/stairs/carrying and where I had to lie in the bath for two hours, which is how long it took for the pain to go, just to be able to cope with standing up to make the dinner for the husband when he came in.
I guess it's natural then, that I have been feeling some trepidation about being pregnant again. Being sick last week reminded me how difficult being sick is. It was more difficult being sick with a toddler than it was before too of course. It made me realise how hard this pregnancy could possibly be.
I have been feeling genuine fear and panic over the last week. All the pain of the pregnancy and birth, all the inner panic in my concern and grief for my mother, all the memories of the exhaustion and clumsy efforts that are felt in the first few weeks of motherhood all piled on top of my head and jumped up and down like a heavy ballerina.
I had coffee with my pregnant girlfriend and was reminded of the journey of pregnancy. The tests to see if the baby has down syndrome, the tests to see if the heart and lungs work, if there are legs and arms, the wait to see if you can hold the baby until it is 'viable', the wait to see if it can survive the birth. So much risk and joy and trepidation.
I elected not to have private health insurance, which in Australia is not a dangerous or silly thing to do, but it does mean that I can't elect to have a cesarean section rather than give birth by pushing. I had a posterior birth and nothing we could do would turn her around. That means that the baby is facing a way that rather than the head neatly going down the birth canal the skull pushes ineffectually on your back - for hour after agonising hour.

'I can't do this again, I can't do this again', I sobbed into my husbands shoulder.
'Hey, hey....this isn't you', he said. 'You're tired. I'll be here to help you remember'
I'm getting resigned to it now having explored the option of paying for private care directly from my pocket. $5000 without the bed fees taken into account. I guess I'm pushing.

'You can't pick up the baby for weeks if you have a ceasar', my husband reminds me, 'you have pain but after the birth, not during. You have a toddler you have to look after remember, you can't afford to be out of action'.
I think sadly of the heamorhoids I've had in varying degrees for the last two years.
'I guess', I say.



Wednesday, July 7, 2010

'No, it's great', said my husband. 'It's just like Bridget Jones where she says she's going to do all this stuff and then does nothing'. He smiles encouragingly.

right.

The idea of this blog is not to fail in a public manner- it's to achieve, achieve, achieve.

'You must remember to breathe', says my yoga teacher to the class. 'So many of us are striving to achieve, we're rushing around, we're not living in the moment. We must let go of all these ideals of being power women and just learn to live our life and get pleasure from the moment'

I agree. I think all those women out there who are trying to prove themselves to be of value by achieving things and overloading their lives should really listen to that.

Anyway - back to me...

Piano - Missed class as Imogen has chicken pox. Will practice, practice, practice to make up for it.

Book - Got called back from my research to a certain Sydney suburb by Imogen's daycare centre who informed me that they thought she had chickenpox. Confirmed by dr. later that day. Will write, write, write to make up for it.

Cooking - Cooked grilled vegetables and couscous from my student cookbook. Later that night I projectile vomited in the hall, (didn't even get to the bathroom) and was sick all day sunday. Husband sick all day monday. Then Imogen with chickenpox on tuesday - surely that wasn't due to my cooking...
Will cook, cook, cook to make up for it.

Salsa - um, nothing.