I'm knock-out drop-dead gorgeous!

Well, the first two at least... sporting as I am a rather smarting (if not smart) black eye this morning, as a result of walking into my bedroom door last night (obviously I thought it was open). Unfortunately no one was on hand to film it. It would have made a hell of a youtube video and turned me into an overnight star - which only adds insult to injury.

I can however confirm the following:
1. my bedroom door, unlike King Cross Station's platform 9 1/2 is not a portal to the wizard world (either that or Dobby's up to his old tricks again)
2. Evolutionary speaking, eyebrow ridges are vital. Right now, I wish I had a more Neanderthal prominence but mine seems to have done the trick, protecting my eye socket and not caving in...
3. Arnica and ice and ibuprofen work a treat.
4. Purple is still my favourite colour but not all over my (left) eye.
5. I should not be left alone overnight - ever.
6. An unexpected bang to the head can really help put life in perspective and make one more appreciative for small mercies ie no broken nose, no broken teeth, no stitches, no blood
7. and more grateful all around: Hey! I can - afterall - sleep on my back for an entire night. Who knew?

Of course, the timing of this self-inflicted injury (which the French mysteriously refer to as "black butter eye") is dreadful: I am due to see my parents this weekend. But as I keep telling myself, you can't really notice it, unless you look closely... I mean unless you look at my left eye. It's more swollen than bruised - from the thick layer of cream that I buried it under overnight. And it barely hurts when I touch it. So I'm in a good place.

Apparently, none of this is my fault. Many studies show that hormonal variations during a woman's cycle can lead to poor coordination and fuzzy thinking. I have quite a history in that department: various bruising, gouging and burns. Walking into doors however is a new one on me. So I must admit it rather took me by surprise. Let's just say I didn't see it coming. It's ok, you can laugh. I am!

I think it was the Universe punctuating my life and announcing that a phase was coming to an end and that today, on the last day of September, on this beautifully promising sunny autumn morning, a new journey is beginning.

To happy endings and new beginnings

5 performances left for Desire/Desig. One day, I will tell you all about it. One day but not today. (Oh all right, I'll tell you about how last Saturday, someone from the next show at the White Bear thought it would be a good idea to use an electric saw to cut some wood... in our dressing room... it was like Pompeii meets the Termites World Fair...)

Today I want to talk about endings. As someone who aspires to live in the moment, I find myself most often projecting into the future (in an "oh my god what's going to go wrong?!" kind of way) or reminiscing fondly about the past (have you noticed how it's almost always summer in your childhood memories?). It's not a satisfactory state of affairs but I keep reminding myself that it's a work in progress.

So endings then - they are bitter sweet... the fear of the unknown has already lifted replaced by the sweet tide of  nostalgia. "I don't want it to end!" Oh well, it is bloody well ending so get used to it, and get a move on!

What exactly is ending? The play I've been in, the routine I've developed over the last few years (I'm big on routine, me), the tentative baby steps. It's all ending this weekend. As of Monday morning, a new chapter will start writing itself.

No, I'm not leaving town, or changing my name, or even my hair colour (although the rouge seduction nail polish will probably go)... I've just reach my ideal weight (remember the Dukan Diet... about to start the next 50 day phase) and am changing day jobs. Oh, and I'm having my hair cut at the end of the week... a small earthquake of its own (will it look good? Luigi at Sulis has only been cutting it with style and flair for a couple a years... who knows he could surprise me with something really unsightly...!)

I might as well be contemplating diving from a 20 meter cliff!

I find it terrifying... there are no markers... not yet at least. Will I have time to go to yoga classes and Zumba? What if I get asked something and don't know the answer? What if they don't like me? What if I don't fit in? You see what I'm doing? Projecting into the future with apprehension and growing panic. Why can't I think positive things, like... I don't know...

Sometimes I think that life should end on a high... I wish there was a service that would come and wrap you up carefully like some valuable antique and put you in suspended animation after a particularly good run of things... and there you could float on a bed of ether, content, looking back on a job well done. A bit like those who die doing what they loved but without the sudden and shocking ending... control freak to the last, I would want to schedule my exit into temporary suspended animation. And then be brought back when things looked particularly exciting and rosy.

How strange! That's material for a sci-fi novel maybe (although not a very good one), but more importantly: who would want to live their lives like that?

Well me, for one.

But why?

Life isn't about pressing the pause button, or fast forwarding, or rewinding for that matter. With life, someone presses PLAY and you're off! Until that same person presses STOP, or you run out of tape, (or more likely these days) memory space.

So how about it? Why not hop into the next circle of light illuminating my path and trust the Greater Universe in all its wisdom and age old compassion? Especially since I asked the said Universe for a clear sign guiding to the next step and it delivered an almighty neon lit all American Brass Band, Red Arrows flying overhead sign that said "GO DO IT!"...

So what am I waiting for? Another sign?

It's time for lift off.

Get, set, go...

Major Isabelle to Ground Control...