A Mintie Moment

I got my periods in the middle of watching my nephew's play last night. No pad or anything. I ran around like a cat with it's ass on fire congratulating the little kids for their performances, trying to get out of the theatre quick shit so I didn't bleed through my pants, and then hugged and said hi to my old music teacher Mr. Heyworth.

Let me tell you about Mr. Heyworth. The guy is an old hippie, basically. A little balding, a long beard (I mean LONG). He was my music teacher for seven years of my life, and considering that music IS my life, this sort of made him my mentor. Music was my FAVOURITE subject, along with art. I loved it. I loved singing. I tried harmonizing with music for the first time during one of his classes. It was kind of funny because I think the girls next to me thought I was off my face or something cause I was singing so badly!! I used to play music to him after class and he'd kindly nod and tell me how good I was getting. He's *that* nice.

In my sixth year of primary school, he cast me as the lead in the school musical, 'Bear'. I was *so* excited. This started my love of acting. He was giving out the roles, and then it came to me. He turned around, grabbed this HUUUUGE teddy bear, and dumped it in my lap, with an envelope telling me what role I got.

I squealed, I was so happy! And the class clapped and laughed and the girls were excited. It was amazing. The girl that had no friends for the first four or five years of primary school makes good. Like a hollywood movie.

I did an awesome job too, if I do say so myself. I mean hey, line delivery was a bit put on and I over-acted here and there, but I was only 11 man! And hey - my singing was excellent!

Mr. Heyworth wrote this play, and some of the music for it. He writes great musicals for kids, they're really wonderful. I mean, critics would probably think he's no Lloyd-Webber, but hey, I think Lloyd-Webber sucks now-a-days anyway. He knows intimately what kids can do, how they act, and he makes the plays so that they're fun for the kids to do. I think what he does is pretty phenomenal.

In my seventh year, it was time for auditioning for the school band. I got to be lead singer, and boy, wasy I happy. I practiced hard, I worked on my voice, I did my best. We needed to find a name for the band... I borrowed one of my brother's discarded band names... Technical Hitch. That band was the deciding factor in my life purpose. As I was in the last gig for that band, a hall full of children screaming and cheering for me and my band-members, it was clear what I was meant to do in my life. Music. Singing. It was what I was about.

It was an experience that never would have happened without Mr. Heyworth and the amazing work he puts in to his classes.

I have endless amounts of love and gratitude for him, as he was my first mentor in music and introduced me to an art that is integral to who I am.

Fast forward to three years later-ish. I'm in high school, and my sister Tina is in a play. She went to the same primary school as I did, and had Mr. Heyworth as a teacher too. It's called "The Search for the Lost Chord", and one of the main character's name is "Susie."

It's the same character, the same Susie I played in Bear. Mr. Heyworth had continued the story of Susie, and had written a story of her being a teenager starting a band with friends. It's a great little play, again with music he's written, and Tina does a great job in her role. I kinda enjoyed the play, was chuffed at the fact that he kept the Susie character going, and then went on with life as usual.

The play that my nephew did last night was the same play my sister did. So it was an interesting experience for my sister and I. I was there, watching a girl play my blessed Susie (She did SUCH a great job too), and there was Tina, watching a girl play her much loved Ms. Treble (That girl was awesome too).

I went up, told Mr. Heyworth how I was doing, hugged and said goodbye, and then went home to make myself a LOT more comfortable with some industrial strength sanitary pads and pain-killers. (Yarrow tea is the best btw).

I was sitting there, slowly recovering, when I opened the programme for the play my nephew was in. I opened it up, and there's a synopsis, and it reads as follows:

Prologue:

Suzie, Steve, Matt and Roseanna have formed a rock band called "The Technical Hitch", but they are having problems ending their songs. That elusive last chord is lost.
Will they ever find that lost chord?
Can Matt's mystic insight help?
Join the four teenagers as they explore a musical fantasy land In Search of The Lost Chord! Or is it a lost cause?

I double took. Hang on... Technical Hitch?!

After all the pains I'd been through recently, after my massive fuck up at the Wax Lyrical night the other day... he used our band's name...

I started thinking... did my enthuseasm and love of music ever inspire him? I thought back to when I first talked to him about this play, and he said that he deliberately kept Susie in the play, and that he liked my performance. Perhaps he liked our band too.

It meant everything, seeing that name there. My heart swelled. I felt lighter. I felt damned good.

I guess I always thought that my music and my abilities there-of meant nothing to the world. That I've left no mark and that'll I'll be a fleeting sound and then nothing. I guess that's wrong. People remember, I suppose. It means a lot to me to be proved wrong on that, because I have been beating myself up and self-depreciating myself over the fact that my art is something that can get me great success but also great failure.

Sure, it's not much, but it's nice to know that Mr. Heyworth thought I was something special. I will always treasure my lessons with him as the start of something that made me who I am today.

A Mintie Moment

I got my periods in the middle of watching my nephew's play last night. No pad or anything. I ran around like a cat with it's ass on fire congratulating the little kids for their performances, trying to get out of the theatre quick shit so I didn't bleed through my pants, and then hugged and said hi to my old music teacher Mr. Heyworth.

Let me tell you about Mr. Heyworth. The guy is an old hippie, basically. A little balding, a long beard (I mean LONG). He was my music teacher for seven years of my life, and considering that music IS my life, this sort of made him my mentor. Music was my FAVOURITE subject, along with art. I loved it. I loved singing. I tried harmonizing with music for the first time during one of his classes. It was kind of funny because I think the girls next to me thought I was off my face or something cause I was singing so badly!! I used to play music to him after class and he'd kindly nod and tell me how good I was getting. He's *that* nice.

In my sixth year of primary school, he cast me as the lead in the school musical, 'Bear'. I was *so* excited. This started my love of acting. He was giving out the roles, and then it came to me. He turned around, grabbed this HUUUUGE teddy bear, and dumped it in my lap, with an envelope telling me what role I got.

I squealed, I was so happy! And the class clapped and laughed and the girls were excited. It was amazing. The girl that had no friends for the first four or five years of primary school makes good. Like a hollywood movie.

I did an awesome job too, if I do say so myself. I mean hey, line delivery was a bit put on and I over-acted here and there, but I was only 11 man! And hey - my singing was excellent!

Mr. Heyworth wrote this play, and some of the music for it. He writes great musicals for kids, they're really wonderful. I mean, critics would probably think he's no Lloyd-Webber, but hey, I think Lloyd-Webber sucks now-a-days anyway. He knows intimately what kids can do, how they act, and he makes the plays so that they're fun for the kids to do. I think what he does is pretty phenomenal.

In my seventh year, it was time for auditioning for the school band. I got to be lead singer, and boy, wasy I happy. I practiced hard, I worked on my voice, I did my best. We needed to find a name for the band... I borrowed one of my brother's discarded band names... Technical Hitch. That band was the deciding factor in my life purpose. As I was in the last gig for that band, a hall full of children screaming and cheering for me and my band-members, it was clear what I was meant to do in my life. Music. Singing. It was what I was about.

It was an experience that never would have happened without Mr. Heyworth and the amazing work he puts in to his classes.

I have endless amounts of love and gratitude for him, as he was my first mentor in music and introduced me to an art that is integral to who I am.

Fast forward to three years later-ish. I'm in high school, and my sister Tina is in a play. She went to the same primary school as I did, and had Mr. Heyworth as a teacher too. It's called "The Search for the Lost Chord", and one of the main character's name is "Susie."

It's the same character, the same Susie I played in Bear. Mr. Heyworth had continued the story of Susie, and had written a story of her being a teenager starting a band with friends. It's a great little play, again with music he's written, and Tina does a great job in her role. I kinda enjoyed the play, was chuffed at the fact that he kept the Susie character going, and then went on with life as usual.

The play that my nephew did last night was the same play my sister did. So it was an interesting experience for my sister and I. I was there, watching a girl play my blessed Susie (She did SUCH a great job too), and there was Tina, watching a girl play her much loved Ms. Treble (That girl was awesome too).

I went up, told Mr. Heyworth how I was doing, hugged and said goodbye, and then went home to make myself a LOT more comfortable with some industrial strength sanitary pads and pain-killers. (Yarrow tea is the best btw).

I was sitting there, slowly recovering, when I opened the programme for the play my nephew was in. I opened it up, and there's a synopsis, and it reads as follows:

Prologue:

Suzie, Steve, Matt and Roseanna have formed a rock band called "The Technical Hitch", but they are having problems ending their songs. That elusive last chord is lost.
Will they ever find that lost chord?
Can Matt's mystic insight help?
Join the four teenagers as they explore a musical fantasy land In Search of The Lost Chord! Or is it a lost cause?

I double took. Hang on... Technical Hitch?!

After all the pains I'd been through recently, after my massive fuck up at the Wax Lyrical night the other day... he used our band's name...

I started thinking... did my enthuseasm and love of music ever inspire him? I thought back to when I first talked to him about this play, and he said that he deliberately kept Susie in the play, and that he liked my performance. Perhaps he liked our band too.

It meant everything, seeing that name there. My heart swelled. I felt lighter. I felt damned good.

I guess I always thought that my music and my abilities there-of meant nothing to the world. That I've left no mark and that'll I'll be a fleeting sound and then nothing. I guess that's wrong. People remember, I suppose. It means a lot to me to be proved wrong on that, because I have been beating myself up and self-depreciating myself over the fact that my art is something that can get me great success but also great failure.

Sure, it's not much, but it's nice to know that Mr. Heyworth thought I was something special. I will always treasure my lessons with him as the start of something that made me who I am today.

Cow Pokin'.

I'll tell you about where I live. It's across from the city's main showgrounds (or fair-ground for you yanks out there). The annual Royal Show is on this week, and so the place is totally filling up with animals. Across the road from us directly, just beyond the fence (we can see right into the grounds through the fence) is a loading bay for the bulls and cows. They park the big trucks, the cows get off and go down a ramp. They either live in the pens or the yards. The yards are across the road from us too.

This morning when I got up, I was treated to the smell of cow shit.

Anyways, apart from the new morning aroma, there are usually other rather interesting side effects. Mooing. Lots and LOTS of mooing. OH, it used to be worse when the ALL the animal pens were across the street. Pig shit (That's the WORST), chicken shit (teehee), llama shit, goat shit, sheep shit, and then there's the NOISE. Cock-a-doodle-dooing. And bleating and squealling and you freakin' well NAME it.

At least now it's just the cows. It can get interesting listening to the noises they make. You think they just go 'moo', but they don't. They go 'Mee-eee!' and 'Miieeuuuu!' And variants there-of. I like to try talking to them by mooing back out the front. I know, it's odd, but cows intrigue me. I like the bovine species. Which is also very sad because they're my favourite meat. I love beef. If I had to choose one meat to stick to for the rest of my life, it would be beef. I love beef. I also patted a pregnant cow once, and felt instantly guilty for being the beef lover. I've been mostly vegetarian recently, so I don't feel so bad.

Anyway, I'm digressing from the point of this tale. The point is, they take the cattle off these trucks across the road from us, and into their pens. There is usually one person per bovine, and if you've ever stood in front of a cow, you know you're wishing that bovine is in a good mood.

One bull, a red bull, wasn't in a good mood yesterday. He'd been cramped up on a truck, probably all the way from Bunbury or Pemberton (that's a long way away, like interstate for americans), and he'd been standing in his own piss for hours. He's reekin' of shit, the cow next to him won't shut up, and he's hungry as fuck for some fresh feed. His gigantic dangling balls are getting knocked around and cramped up in the small space too, so he's REALLY pissed.

He's got a plan. He's getting out of here. Sure, he doesn't know where the hell HERE is, but he guesses there's gotta be some good grass somewhere close by.

So he gets off the truck, down the ramp... la la la... RUN FOR IT!

He runs out of the carpark for the trucks waiting to unload animals. He's fast, and we mere mortal humans are no match for the animal that inspired the greeks so heavily in their mythology and worship. This monstrous red example of the male of the bovine species thunders through the gates that are VERY close to my house (within 50 metres), leaps gracefully over a wooden guard railing, and begins his escape down the street. Show staff and his owners race after him, waving their arms, trying to catch up the angry beast. Of course, the road he's running down is one that connects to a rather well used main road, and in the afternoon the traffic is a little more than the nothing it is usually. This great red animal is galloping towards three flashy looking dark blue cars. The suburb I live in is full of rich cosmopolitan types, so this heavy dusty bull with shit caked on his feet running headlong for them with red-rimmed pissed off eyes is not the thing they wanna see on the way home from the office. They probably had a double latte when THEY got home.

The bull stood in front of them, glared, sidestepped, probably swore at them in it's bovine mind, "Bloody yuppies!", and kept galloping off down the road.

That was the last I saw of him, and I don't know the dear animal's fate. I guess they got a hold of him eventually, and it's an example of what life is like around here for me. A strange blend of country livin' once a year and the city life for the rest. I like it.