With Bonus Irrelevant Photos!
When I was trying to decide between the two job offers I received the other week, one of the big ticks in the “pro” column for the job I ultimately accepted was in regards to location. My current workplace is a lovely 20 minute walk from my apartment, which means that for the first time in a long time I’m actually getting some exercise.
More important, though, is that I’m steadily building up a reputation as my suburb’s resident Crazy Lady.
You see, I walk to work down a very busy road. It’s busy but isn’t a freeway or main thoroughfare, which means that the cars alongside me are often banked up at lights or intersections, and regularly have their windows down.
As I walk, I listen to my iPod.
And I sing. Oh, how I sing.
My film-maker friend Liz gave me this Chilli Peanut Butter to apologise for having eaten the Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter she ostensibly brought back for me from America. I accepted the apology, because the Chilli Peanut Butter was intensely spicy and delicious.
I’m not talking about your average mindless humming or accidental quiet trilling. No. This is full-scale, serious singing, and I’m well aware of what I’m doing. To be fair, I don’t sing constantly, but the songs that I can’t help belting out comprise the bulk of my playlist.
For example, this morning I started off near the roundabout by embodying John Wilkes Booth as he appears in Sondheim’s Assassins:
Damn my soul if you must,
Let my body turn to dust,
Let it mingle with the ashes of the country.
Let them curse me to hell,
Leave it to history to tell:
What I did, I did well,
And I did it for my country!
Wasabi leaf! Because leaves need, um, rain to grow… (see below)
Soon after, at the second set of traffic lights, No Rain by Blind Melon came on. This song always make me happy and want to cry at the same time.
And I don’t understand why I sleep all day,
And I start to complain that there’s no rain.
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake*
And it rips my life away, but it’s a great escape.
Chocolate Nougat, sent all the way from Perth by my Magical Vicarious Brunch Buddy Conor.
Finally, as I stood on the footpath waiting to cross yet another road, I did my best Nathan Fillion (love that man) impression with head uplifted:
It may not feel too classy
Begging just to eat.
But you know who does that?
Lassie. And she always gets a treat.
At this point I saw a sullen-looking teenager staring at me from the passenger seat of the car to my right. I knew I had two options: laugh it off, or become really embarrassed and sprint towards my work building.
I took the third option, and kept right on singing.
She showed me there’s so many different muscles I can flex.
There’s the deltoids of compassion, there’s the abs of being kind,
It’s not enough to bash in heads, you’ve got to bash in minds.
Everyone’s a hero in their own way…
I reckon I totally inspired that teenager to achieve greatness in his life.
The Crazy Lady.
* Speaking of, I’ve read some brilliant books lately. Including one that actually caused me to exclaim out loud because the plot was so unexpected that it metaphorically pulled the rug from under my feet. It’s nice to be completely surprised and blown away sometimes.