It Tuesday afternoon, it's 3 minutes into the hateful "witching hour" and I really should be bathing and feeding the children however I simply must type a bit before my head explodes.
For those of you without children the "witching hour" starts around 5/5:30pm each night and involves your children changing from well behaved small people into the spawn of the dark lord. Everyone is tired from the days activities yet we must all push on to ensure the children are fed, brush their teeth, read a story and put to bed. It is WORST EVER. What I really want to do at this time is open a bottle of red and lay on the couch.
I don't care how perfect you claim your child to be: ALL KIDS TURN.
I swear if they were really serious about cutting teenage pregnancy rates they would send them to any household with more than one kid at 5pm. That will extinguish the fires in their lusty teenage loins toot sweet.
Why am I borderline manic right now? Well, if you've been playing along at home you may know my one woman show is starting this Thursday night at the Butterfly club. If you're new; well done, you've missed most of the anxiety!
This show has been all consuming. I feel ridiculous writing that as it's only a tiny production, an hour long and my "special effect"involves fake candles and a self operated fog machine. Still, it's something I've come up with and written so if it's God awful I have no one to throw cake at at the end and call a wanker..
The stage is only as big as the front of a small car and I am filling it with my guitarist and a home made change screen. Yes, I purchased a "frame wall" from the reject shop, punched out the pictures and replaced them with sparkly material. Boom, somewhere to complete my costume changes.. Tonia Todman 'aint got nothin' on me friends. The screens lack of structural integrity is a little concerning.
I just hope a stiff wind doesn't blow through the Butterfly club the moment I strip.
I have also made an actual "power point presentation" this whole production plays like a Yr 12 theater studies project. Which, I'm ok with.
This is one of the scariest things I have ever done.
I am packing shit. (I love this phrase, it's not used enough in my opinion)
Seriously.
Why did I think I could do this?
No. I can do this.
If Britney could get back on the stage as medicated as she was; and not pass out, I can get through an hour of talking about myself!
As my annoyingly calm husband said to me at 3am last night when he found me running lines in front of the bathroom mirror: "If you feel anxiety you are living in the future."
At the time, I wanted to spit listerine in his eyes. Not so much now; it's become my mantra, just don't tell him that.
If you live in Melbourne and you're free Thursday/Friday/Saturday or Sunday night around 7pm it would be nice to see you. If you're got this far down and haven't given up then we are kindred spirits (copy write Anne of Green Gables) and your presence would provide moral support.
Earlier in the week I did an interview on JOY FM, it previews the songs in a ridiculous way.
This is the last time we will speak before I embark on this tour of self doubt and sweat.
See you on the other side..
E x
