An ad came out recently. It talks about "real beauty". I hate it. The cheesy music. The soft lighting. The way we are so judgemental of ourselves. The way our society venerates looks. The way the video is re-posted all over the place. Right now, our society says BEAUTY is:

Boobs (they must be big and round and on display. They are not appropriate when feeding babies)
Eyes (blue is preferable)
Ass (must be swished and jiggled and worn with shorts)
Unattainable (a "beautiful" person must be aloof, not part of the real world, on a pedastal, photoshopped)
Thin (because "plus" size models start at a size12)
Young (old = wrinkles, saggy, skin spots = ugly)

I'm sick of the beautiful/ugly dichotomy. I'm sick of "beauty" being only about snap-judgements and labels of "hot or not". I'm sick of discussions that ask if feminism is being feminist if it asks women to love how they look no matter what and not buy into consumerist culture notions of beauty. What if "beauty" meant something else entirely?

Brains (use them. Learn an instrument, learn a language, study astronomy, do math problems, read widely, learn about history and science... I'm into humanities. I love reading. I love writing. But I'm not so fussed what you do, just use your brain to LEARN! There is so much in this world! Infinitesimal things to learn and explore! GO TO IT!)
Ethics (is what you do harmful to others, or to the planet?) 
Attitude (anything is possible. People who are naysayers are awful to be around. I don't advocate positivity 100% of the time. It's not human. BUT! Oh, what we could change if people had a nicer attitude toward the world around them.)
Understanding (having empathy for the people around you. Walking in someone else's shoes. Investigating a situation in order to have more knowledge about it.)
Tenacity (having an inner strength) 
Y? (as in "why?" I realize I am cheating a little here. But it's my poem and I'll bend the rules if I want to. Question everything around you. Why is beauty about image? Why are women controlled through the media? Why are women subjucated and treated as mere physical objects? Why does the porn industry have such a stronghold over what "beauty" is, encouraging us to wax and preen and value ourselves purely on looks?)

To me, a "beautiful" person is someone with intelligence, integrity, and vivacity. That is the beauty I seek. That is the beauty I crave. And as for THAT ad. Their "beauty" is only skin deep. And no amount of face cream, soap, or shiny advertising, will scrub away the hypocrisy of a global conglomerate selling "beauty" products in the name of empowerment. 

Tucked away in
The brightly coloured
Hippy quarter of
Covent Garden
Known as
Neal's Yard
Is the wonderful
Wild Food Cafe

They make fabulous food
And sinful smoothies
And it's all
"Healthy"
Full of vitality
And nutrients
And goodness

Today I had a "raw Shepherd's pie"
Which sounds ridiculous
And gross
But it was utterly
Amazing
Finely chopped olives and carrots and peas
With bright orange pumpkin on top
The flavour explosion was
Out of this world

They call their
Chocolate smoothies
With raw cacao and aloe vera and cinnamon
"Ecstasy"
They're not far from the truth

The staff are friendly
The food is amazing
And every time I go there
I feel better
About life

The end.

Every week
If I can 
I try and buy 
The Big Issue
I'm struggling myself 
Two-thirds of my paycheck
Is spent on rent
The other third covers
Food, bills, and a weekly train ticket
There's not much left 
If anything
Once it's all paid for 

But I realize 
How lucky I am
To be healthy
To be surrounded by
People who look after me
Treat me to dinner
Or a show
Or even a holiday 
I have a roof over my head
And food in my belly
And in the middle of a recession 
I have a job
That I enjoy
Brings satisfaction
And fun
Even if sometimes
It is exhausting
To be part 
Of the daily slog 

Today between Leicester Sq
And Covent Garden
I passed no less than 9 vendors
In a journey 
That takes 5 minutes by foot 
And I see these vendors
And men and women
Who are homeless 
Literally every. single. day.
People
Who for a myriad of reasons 
Have not been so lucky in life 
And need an extra hand 
And I just wish
I could offer every single one of them
A bed 
A cup of coffee 
Lunch 
A chance 

And if my £2.50 
Can make the tiniest difference
In someone's day
And allow them
To be one step closer 
To their own 
Eudemonia 
It's a difference 
Worth making   

The end. 

Tonight
I had dinner with a dear friend
We had delicious pasta
And banoffee pie
And several beverages
It was marvelous

He lives in the south of London
I live in the north
It took me a while to get home
By the time I got to Green Park
And changed from the Victoria Line
To the Jubilee Line
I was busting for the loo
I'm only human
I knew there were toilets at the station
Up two escalators
Down the long corridor
And out of the ticket gates

The toilets were shut
The station staff did not have keys
Or sympathy
They said I must use
The pay toilets

I detest pay toilets
On principle
Charging humans
To pee and poop
Is a failing of mankind

I knew there was a hotel above the station
The entrance
A full block away
The Ritz
Is very fancy
To spend just one night there
Would cost me
Literally two weeks rent

The porters
Late at night
Are thankfully very lovely
"Excuse me, I need to use your restrooms"
"Is it an emergency?"
"It will be."
"This way madam".

And that is how I came
To use the facilities
In one of the fanciest
Most lovely loos
I have ever used in all my twenty-eight years of existence

The end.

I didn't allow myself to get excited
Her reputation
Precedes her
Canceling, forgetting lyrics, swallowing words
But tonight
In her signature sparkling black top
That shimmered and reflected light
And almost seemed to be electricfied
Liza Minnelli
Was radiant

Her speaking voice
Is not just breathy
It's breathless
She seems barely able to string a sentence together
And then she sings
Sure the top notes aren't quite there anymore
But the richness in her voice
The undeniable "Liza" tone
The timbre so full
So present
It's phenomenal

They talk of
Living legends
And truly
She is one

In just under two weeks
This living legend will be 67
She's frailer than she used to be
Apologized for sitting for much of the concert
But the audience didn't mind
When she sang, honestly
Magic happened
She seemed somehow younger
The way she can tell a story through song
Transport you worlds away
With her voice
The simplest gesture
The audience erupted after
Every single number
And the applause wasn't gratuitous

In the same way that her mother
Never escaped the rainbow
Liza will never escape the cabaret
But you get the sense
She's happiest there
It's where she grew up
It's where her family,
Literal and accumulated,
Come from
And her gratitude to the audience
Felt genuine and real

The final encore
Every single person was already on their feet
And it was just
Liza in a spotlight
Singing acapella
The hush that fell over the crowd
Oh, that voice!
And right before the final note
A whispered
Thank you
And the audience melted
Audibly gasped
And we cheered in response
And Liza bowed
And walked into the wings

The end.

I first saw A Chorus Line when I was ten years old. It was the first musical I ever saw live. We had a spare ticket and I remember standing outside the theatre with Mum trying to give the ticket away. We ended up giving it to a lovely lady who had to find a pay phone to tell someone at home she would be late. The next thing I remember is sitting in the theatre, the lady offering me some chocolate, and then the theatre going pitch black. I grabbed Mum's hand because I was scared. The opening refrain, the mirrors shimmering into view, and then, "A 5-6-7-8!" I was transfixed, transported, and utterly sure of what I wanted to do when I grew up.

How does a ten year old from Sydney's leafy North Shore resonate with a musical about struggling dancers in New York? What was it that grabbed me? The swearing and many of the stories went way over my head. I liked Diana. I liked her because the girl playing her had been my Mum's student. I also liked her because she had a good monologue, and because I too was not genetically disposed toward bobsleds. I liked the "tits and ass" girl because she was blunt and straight forward and no nonsense, (Years later I was walking down Park Ave in NYC, and the line "Park and 73rd" kept ringing in my ears, and it cracked me up when I realized where it was from. Is the Good Doctor still working to take flat chested dancers from chorus girl to star? How does my feminist grown-up self feel about that character now?). I also liked "the ballet song" because I was doing ballet then, and when they sang it, I knew the smell of the rehearsal room, the feel of the barre, the narrow stairway, yes everything was beautiful at the ballet (even though I personally struggled because I didn't pick up choreography quickly, and though graceful "with lovely ballet hands" I was somewhat uncoordinated and awkward, no it wasn't paradise...). And I got it. I even used to dance around the living room. I also related to the tales of broken homes and divorced parents and escaping to ballet/performance as a means out. 

And as I grew up and listened, and re-listened, and listened again, to the cassette of the cast recording, the music changed and meant different things. Suddenly I was twelve, and thirteen, and unsure. Still, I knew I wanted to be a performer. I had the drama teacher that made me feel "nothing". I was short. I had no boobs. I actually lived the knee injury bit. Had a doctor tell me I would never dance again. What happens when you can't perform anymore? You crawl into a ball and suffer through depression for two years, and don't come out until you start performing again. 

And then I wanted to get married and live in the 'burbs and have a stable life. And then the stupid boy broke my heart, and changed my life because I was so mad at him, and so heartbroken that I had no choice but to pursue my original dream. While training I saw Donna McKechnie perform live, the woman whose voice I had listened to a million times. Give me somebody to dance for! The woman is in her seventies and she's still got it. I saw Marvin Hamlisch (may he be resting in musical theatre heaven) conduct the London Symphony Orchestra playing a medley of songs from A Chorus Line. And I gave up everything I ever knew to move across the world to study at a crazily expensive school, have my self-esteem torn to shreds, and be told I should "reconsider" this career choice. But you have this little persistent voice inside your head that says I DON'T WANT TO AND CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE. THIS. IS. IT. And sometimes you just have to ignore the naysayers and the statistics and the struggle that is auditioning and putting yourself out there and honing your craft and praying "Oh, god I need this job!" Not just for money, but for my soul. 

So it's no secret that I'm emotionally invested in this show. For me, A Chorus Line is THE show. It's the reason I became a performer. It's the reason I'm obsessed with musical theatre. It's the inspiration that keeps me going. And tonight, seeing it performed to almost utter perfection in London was astonishingly wonderful, inspiring, and uplifting. 

The end. 

When I watched
The Disney movie
Brave
Over the summer
There was a moment
When I thought
Wouldn't be cool
If the princess

Merida
Was allowed to be single
Was allowed to be
A woman
With skills
And a thirst for knowledge
Going out into the world
And living her life
And achieving her goals
And dreaming her dreams

Without having to
Be a dainty princess
Or one day marry a prince?

Because
Despite what Disney
And Hollywood portray

There are many
Women in the world
Who don't marry
Who don't have children
Who are bright
And worldly
Who are not crazy crones
Or wicked witches
There are many women
Who do marry
But stay
Independent
And remain powerful in their own right

I want role
models
In life
Like Elizabeth Gilbert
Who
Ate and prayed and loved
And consciously decided
She didn't want to be a mother
Wanted to be a writer
And globe trotter
And embracer of life

Or like
Rita Golden Gelman
Who sold her possessions
And went traveling
And met people
And ate beautiful food
And said
You CAN travel the world
As a single woman
And you can have a marvelous time doing it

I wish Disney
Would tell stories where
It is okay to be a spirited single woman
It is okay to not want to get married
To not to have children
And that being You
Makes you beautiful
And powerful
And feminine
And not at all crony
That would be the

Bravest story
Of all.

The end.

I grew up with Alanis 
Jagged Little Pill was one of the first albums I ever owned
And seeing her live
For the first time 
Was exhilarating and touching and strange 
It wasn’t just Present Me
Standing in the middle of the crowd
In this vast venue in London
 
It was thirteen year old me
Standing in the large school hall
Singing “Hand in my Pocket” 
And my classmates laughing because I couldn’t swear
And because it was so incredibly, painfully, obvious that I would never, ever, flick a cigarette 
I think it was one of the first times I had ever sung solo
And the lady who had asked me to sing was so encouraging
I went home and re-listened to Jagged Little Pill to see what else I could learn 
 
It was twenty-something year old me
Standing in the practise rooms above the Student Union
And channelling my anger at my ex
So I could sing “You Oughta Know” 
I knew the song well by then
But the lyrics meant more
 
It was twenty-something year old me 
Walking the Camino
And re-calling that Alanis had done some sort of pilgrimage to India 
And had then released Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie 
And listening to it again 
And as I walked 
“Thank u” resonated
And it changed the entire outlook on my life 
 
It was teenage me 
Watching Dogma and seeing Alanis play God
(Controversial because in Christianity, God is always a He) 
And realizing for the first time
God could be female 
 
And then present day me
With all these memories
From time and space almost forgotten 
Standing there surrounded by strangers
And Alanis
As gorgeous and talented as I’d hoped she’d be 
 
But with a twist
This feminine rock chick with biting lyrics and a fierce sound 
Had stage fright.
She barely looked at the audience for the first
two songs
She roamed around the stage
Her amazing hair swishing behind her 
She settled in though
And from the beginning her voice 
Was even more powerful than I thought
Her belt is phenomenal
She didn’t talk between songs
But she would bow to the band members
And call out thank you to the audience
 
She started out with Woman Down 
A call for an end to misogyny 
And throughout the night played 
guardian, receive, all I really want, you oughta know, hand in my pocket, you learn, head over feet, mary jane, ironic, and uninvited. 
The crowd knew every word
We laughed when she updated the lyrics - 
"It's like meeting the man of your
dreams
And meeting his husband". 
 
But the highlight
Was the acapella hidden track from Jagged Little Pill
It was almost divine it was so moving
Still as raw and gut wrenching as it was eighteen years ago
I’ve never been brave/stupid enough to walk into an ex’s house
And lie in his bed and cry all afternoon
But I have dreamt it 
In the dream I walked through his house 
Smelt his cologne 
And both in sleep and awake 
I have sobbed
 
And through it all 
Alanis. 
With her own highs and lows and journies and quests
For forgiveness 
For peace 
For love
For life.
 
The end.