Thursday, July 06, 2006

The Week That Was... And Is Still Being

Saturday - I work in my clothing store. Very busy day because it's the night of a huge rave called Utopia. It's full of excited kids buying their outfits for the night. I'm flat out and loving it. Some of the kids are going to their first rave and ask me things like are there dress regulations. So cute. I'm having so much fun that The Dreaded One calls around, we open some wine and stay open, music cranked, ravers meeting friends at the shop, chatting and laughing. I almost want to go to Utopia.

Sunday - Wake up at 5am to drive to a bush party (see two previous posts for details).

Monday - I send writing samples to a few magazines. Clearly I do more than that, but I cannot remember what it was.

Tuesday - I'm up at 5am again, this time to drive to a pub that is the setting for a scene in a TV show called All Saints. It's pouring with rain and I realise 10 minutes into the drive that I have left behind the street directory and my diary containing my tax file number and the address of the hotel. Somehow I manage to remember how the street directory looks and I find my way straight to the place. Spend the morning miming with complete strangers again. Odd thing for a grown up to be doing by way of income. In the afternoon I get an email from one of the mags I write for asking me for the review that they had told me not to bother writing and which I sent to a new website (link at the right of the screen). I quickly write another review of the same play, being careful not to repeat myself in any way. Interesting exercise. I get it to the mag an hour later and he is very appreciative as he is short on content.

Wednesday - I meet two editors of a couple of magazines I approached about freelance contributions. I am a little nervous because I get nervous in these situations. However I seem to say the right things and they seem keen to have me on board. On the way out one asks me about my pen names and I mention that I write as Grumpy, and she is stoked because she used to think my columns (in the magazine I recently left) were funny and that makes me feel self-conscious but good. I then go to the shop and spend the day trying to get my head around the fact that one supplier has left us with $40,000 worth of stock on consignment. Um... holy shit? Also, I want to enter a 10 minute play competition. I have two ideas, one about Dora Maar, who I am quite obssessed with, the other about a person who has two shadows. The more I think about the Dora Maar one though, the more I think it needs to be a full length play. Bummer because I don't think the other idea is not going to work.

Thursday - I have to buy coathangers. Lots of coathangers. The Dreaded One has given me bodgy street directions and I drive in circles looking for the coathanger shop. In the end I realise that if I replace left with right and vice versa in her directions, all is sweet. I have coathangers. Lots of coathangers. And those little plastic stork things that you put in the gun and tag the clothes with... lots of them too. Then tonight I am off to the Opera House to review another performance, interpretations of the songs of Jacques Brel.

Friday - Will spend the day pestering magazine and newspaper editors again, as well as writing the review and maybe writing my ten minute play. Then tomorrow night I am going to a party attended by lots of theatre types because a part of me now recognises the importance of meeting people and making a good impression... scroll down a little to read about me making good impressions. Also, the person having the party is very nice and I feel a little chuffed that someone so well connected thought to invite me.

Saturday - No doubt I will be hungover. Then I will not be hungover, but I will be at the Opera House later in the day to work in the kitchen.

When I left school I have no idea what I thought I would be doing with myself in the future. If I could tell Leaving School Me that this would be a typical week though, I'm pretty sure I would have laughed my arse off at me.

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