The Climax Scene Really Got To Me

Last week I was introduced to Zuiikin' English, a Japanese television series launched in 1992.

This quirky program combines English lessons with tragic, not-quite-aerobic, exercises to repetitive hypnotic synthesised tunes (if you can call them that).

What I found most interesting was the bizarre choice of phrases.

Unlike Coffee Break French lessons that are full of practical questions and statements, Zuiikin' English will have you saying things like,

• Spare me my life (you'd hope you'd never have to say that)
• I was robbed by 2 men (too bad if you're robbed by 3 women)
• How dare you say such a thing to me (useful)
• Leave me alone (somewhat useful)
• It's your fault that this happened (very useful)
• I can't stand the sight of you (most useful)
• You drive me crazy (imperative)
• Let's go Dutch (no comment)
• I have a bad case of diarrhea (oh dear)
• Hasta la vista, baby (what the?)

The one that completely fascinated me (and had me perplexed as to why I was never taught this in French class) was, "The climax scene really got to me." Yes you read it correctly, the climax scene really got to me. And you know what? IT DID.

Since that fateful day, I have not been able eliminate those words from my vocabulary. You can hear me sing them in the shower, as I prepare meals, during trips to the water closet and when I ready myself for bed. In truth, I have been singing them in almost every waking moment.

I have now reached a point where I am bordering insanity. In such trying times I turn to Kylie Minogue for answers and the words 'I can't get you out of my head' came to me. The solution became clear - I had to get these words out of my head and onto paper (or in this case, my blog).

I trust the healing process has begun and I can get on with my life without climax scenes (or that friggin' song) ever getting to me again.

Until tomorrow, learn to get things out of your head and onto paper (or into a computer) to save yourself from going insane.

Grace xx

ps. I have embedded the infectious video below for those who are daring enough to watch it (email subscribers, click here).

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SuperGrace

I did manage to get my sorry hippo self to the gym yesterday and felt so much better for it.

Though I often anguish over the thought of going, the reality is quite different.

When I'm there, I connect with myself in a way that my arse doesn't realise that it's massive - and I could almost go on believing that if it weren't for those bloody mirrors!

At the end of the day (or the beginning, or the middle) my time at the gym is just that - MY TIME. When I'm there, I'm there for me and not obliged to do anything for anyone else.

My renewed enthusiasm had me dressed and ready to go out the door with a spring in my step, despite it being autumn (haha, okay - not so funny). Then the phone rang. It was Pat asking me to send some information to a guy that wanted to write an article about him. This would not have been such an inconvenience if our server had been working and I was able to access the files easily. The sense of urgency in Pat's voice, together with the challenge head, ignited an instant 'Grace to the rescue' reaction.

Working at lightening speed I wrote a quick bio and did some magic tricks to send hi res photos within the tight deadline. Then... that familiar feeling of hating myself started resurfacing (like a hippo coming up for air).

I was angry at myself running around doing other things instead of following my initial plan of exercising, shopping, post office'ing, blogging, eating and studying before heading out to my course tonight. BTW, did I tell you I'm doing a web design course...? more on that later.

Totally furious with myself, I turned to you - yes YOU, the person reading this blog. I thought that if you are taking time out of your life to read this, then I'd better give you something good.

So I came up with 'SuperGrace' (see pic).

SuperGrace can rescue her husband and herself in the same day - she can do it all, no need to choose! She slices, dices and comes with a free set of steak knives - and that's not all - she can dress up like Richard Simmons just to put a smile on your face (and hers).

Signing off now... it's to the gym I go!!!

Until tomorrow,

SuperGrace xx

ps. Thanks Garrie for your words of encouragement - so happy to have my feet!

Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself

After yesterday's post I trotted off to meet my friend whom I referred to as a "professional opera singer".

Truth is, I really don't know his actual title... like, what does he write down on immigration and customs forms when he's asked for 'occupation?'

Somehow I don't think 'professional opera singer' would be his answer - that's something a 7 year old might call their uncle.

So that's when I had a chuckle at myself.

You see, I've known Stephen since I was I was an awkward, pimple-faced teenager. He's the big brother of my then boyfriend and I was utterly intimidated by him.

Whenever Stephen was a passenger in my car (which was RARE as I avoided this situation at all costs) I would grind the gears, make sudden jerking moves and often stall. I could feel my face burning with utter shame as the sweat beads trickled down my forehead (the persperation may have been due to lack of air conditioning). I desperately wanted the seat to suddenly eject me out of the car so I could disappear.

On Christmas night(s), we would gather around the piano singing carols. Actually, they were singing, I was miming. The fear of the great Steve hearing my less-than-impressive voice was mortifying. I didn't think that being caught out miming might have been worse!

Stephen moved to Europe when I was 21 and I did not see him till I was just days from turning 35. At the time, my husband Patrick and I were travelling south from Switzerland to my parent's hometown in Italy. Stephen was working in Milan and we were literally 'in the neighbourhood', so we thought we'd ought to do the Australian thing and 'pop in'.

I learned that Stephen had risen to the top of his game and had become an internationally renown Tenor. I also learnt that he changed his name to Steve.

We met Steve just as he was finishing his rehearsals - he had the title role of Idomeneo at the season opening of La Scala (Teatro alla Scala is Milan's famous opera house). I believe that in the world of opera, this is considered to be a pinnacle of one's career.

I remember telling Patrick that meeting with Stephen after all these years would be a breakthrough for me. I was sick with nerves and fumbling over the phone as we organised a rendezvous.

Steve looked dashingly sophisticated as he came to greet us in his black leather coat (more like a Georgio Armani male model than Keanu 'The Matrix' Reeves). We gave each other a big hug and he ushered us to his favourite local eatery.

Within minutes of sitting down, I had to come clean. I had to declare to Stephen (in front of Pat) that I was always so nervous around him. I felt intimidated not because he made me... but because I put him up on a pedestal and related to him in a way that only brought shame to myself. He was stunned... and I was free.

We recounted numerous funny stories that evening over a bottle of delicious Italian vino rosso. As we laughed, I gently kissed that awkward, pimple-faced teenager farewell. With her out of the way, I was able to connect with my friend in a way that I never thought possible.

Four and a half years later and I have the most honest and open friendship with Stephen. I realised that being able to laugh at myself has given me the space and freedom to cultivate a very real and treasured relationship.

I wonder if failing to laugh at critical times in my life has contributed to getting lost and if so, will laughing more get me closer to the happy me I want to be?

If Dr. Patch Adams is right and laughter really is medicine, what is the recommended daily dose?

Love, hugs and laughter,

Grace xx

PS. In the spirit of laughing at oneself, I found it mandatory to include a photo of me that does just that.

PPS. Off to review my gym program with Vince in 1 hour and not sure how much laughter will be in that. Tonight, I'll be seeing Stephen (uhem, Steve) perform live at Hamer Hall, Melbourne Arts Centre - can't wait!

PPPS. Why stop at a photo? Why don't we all have a laugh over my YouTube response to the famous Natalie Tyler Tran (Community Channel)'s "Your Soap Sucks" video. Yes, I know, I look ridiculous. That's my point.