Cut down by friendly fire…

There is a way of communicating, frequently employed, used in many different ways, on many different occasions, between people of varying degrees of closeness. This is called ‘Banter’. Banter may be used between friends, who express their love for each other by saying terrible things about each other, with the implicit assumptions that none of the things said are true. Banter may be used by opposing rivals, a ‘friendly’ war of words, employed to ‘psyche’ each other out, to put the opponent off balance, causing them to concentrate on the sweetly coated yet harsh words rather than deeds and plans or intended strategy. And banter may be used by people who are newly met, who are getting to know each other, but are shy about putting their heart about, shy about revealing their true selves to a relative stranger, afraid that they may show themselves and be found wanting, wanting to be cool, to be found clever…perhaps wanting to ‘get them before they get me’. Banter (otherwise known as picong where I come from!) is a strange mating dance, a fascinating ‘cock of the walk’ puffing out of chests and displaying of tail feathers. And banter can be tiresome….

(As an aside…it is amazing that if you employ a word enough – by typing or even saying it over and over again, it loses its meaning and you sometimes lose your ability to spell…)

(Second aside….if you love language – as I do (but only in a half-arsed, not well versed, ‘oh isn’t that terribly interesting’ sort of sense) you must read Mark Dunn’s ‘Ella Minnow Pea’. A beautifully written (with a diminishing alphabet!), succinct (short!) tale of obfuscation and political confusion as caused by some small thing…or you could just watch the news!)

Banter throughout the ages

But back to my tale, I found myself on the receiving end of Banter (yes, note the capital) last night, on date number 3 with a very interesting (if short) government official, who makes me laugh and has beautiful eyes and killer wit (and instincts!) and whom I cannot imagine wearing a pair of jeans (I will find out on Saturday, as date number 4 is already planned). Tiny government official was a bit tired, and so his ‘wit’ might have been a bit sharper than intended (or maybe not!), but I found myself shielding blow after blow about my career (I am an actress), my day to day life (I am an out of work actress), my ambitions (I am an out of work actress that is not terribly fussed at the minute that I am out of work and quite like enjoying playing tennis with Daddy – Daddy = my best mate Chris, my partner in crime, my thought doppelganger, my sage, my sounding board and one of the best actors I have ever had the joy to share the stage with – and enjoying free time that I’ve not had for quite a while).

…If you followed the preceeding meandering train of thought, I commend you….

Diminutive civil servant’s waning energy and attention prompted me to send him home early and I caught my train, on which I met friends and was distracted from thinking any further about the evening. Or maybe I saw the opportunity to rest my shield down for the night, and took it, under the guise of being understanding. My constitution is strong, but less than being offended, I found myself becoming slightly uninterested by the interrogation and the sly yet jocund manner in which we discussed my idleness. I became slightly belligerent by having to answer ‘But what do you do all day?? You must do something!’ for the umpteenth time. I stroppily and sloppily answered questions of my ultimate ambition (To be happy. To be completely present in every moment of my life. To live actively and to seek big miracles in small corners. To be satisfied that I have experienced the life of my choosing…I shared none of these answers). My own quick wit abandoned me (or rather I abandoned it) and I found myself parlaying and parrying with shrugs and short husky (incredulous!) barks that, I suppose, could have been mistaken for laughs. In short, last night I just did not want to play….and I guess, neither did he.

I live an unexamined life, insomuch as I’ve always done what I loved, and have been blessed enough to have been given a number of opportunities to do what I love. I am an observer of life, a reporter of our basest instincts. I am a bringer of joy and of song and, sometimes, of tears. I am the portal through which Man escapes, if only for the ‘two hour traffic of our stage’. My politics may be fickle, but I see that as a freedom of thought and expression that we little take advantage of (I will not be attached to manifestoes and parties, I will forever be attached to ideals, ideas and the power of democracy – though that democracy is sometimes shown to be powerless). My foundation, however, is rock solid. I am a student of Humanity, I am a lover of souls, I am a shower of Heart. I am a mirror, without need or judgement. And I will not be judged.

I wonder how date number 4 will go….