blog 24: In which I list The Top Ten Reasons for Making a List.

Posted on October 10, 2011 by mgbauer

“The List is an absolute good. The List is life!” (Itzhak Stern – Schindler’s List)

Itzhak Stern of course had very good reasons for liking the particular list referred to in the above quote, but while not every list may be an absolute good, list-making in general has many benefits.

So here for your edification are my TOP TEN REASONS FOR MAKING A LIST:

1. Drawing up a list of any kind will immediately make you appear super efficient!

EG:
Boss: How’s that big project I assigned to you going?
You: Yeah no worries, everything’s under control. I’ve got my to-do list all sorted out.
Boss: Good job!

Meanwhile your actual List is:

1. Try to figure out all the stupid stuff I have to do for my stupid big project.
2. Do all that stupid stuff.

2. Lists make everything seem ordered and organised – even if they’re not!

Can you imagine how a list would have helped that guy who developed Chaos Theory? Seriously, have you ever tried to plough your way through Chaos Theory? It’s a mess! It’s all over the place like a dog’s breakfast. If that Chaos Theory clown had just applied a few thoughtfully considered lists to his work he could have ended up developing Numerically Organised, Chronically Prioritized and Cleary Set Out Theory instead.

3. A carefully constructed list can fill you with a sense of achievement!

I ask you, who doesn’t love the unbridled thrill of slashing a line through something written on a piece of paper? And this feeling can even be enhanced by either (a) adding things to your list that you have already done or (b) including unnecessary or trivial items that are easily crossed off.

EG: MY BIG PROJECT TO-DO LIST!

1. Get paper and pen to make BIG PROJECT TO-DO LIST.
2. Think of things I have to-do.
3. Make list.
4. Drink copious amounts of coffee to keep brain cells firing.
5. Eat biscuits and cake to maintain strength.
6. Start working on BIG PROJECT.
7. Revisit points 4 & 5 regularly.
8. Complete BIG PROJECT.
9. Have a night out on the town with the girls/guys as a reward for hard work.

4. If you put all your time and effort into making your list, you can put off actually doing anything on the list!

With a bit of luck, while you lose yourself in list-writing mode, all those tedious to-do things will eventually be done by someone else. Someone with time on their hands. Someone who’s not busy making lists!

5. Making one list creates the opportunity to make another list!

This is because your first list is only a draft and it will need to be revised into a  second list where you eliminate unimportant items and prioritize the remainder for maximum efficiency.

EG: A DALEK’S initial to-do list.

1. Write to-do list
2. Practise voice exercises
3. Check circuitry
4. Re-calibrate ray-gun
5. Polish shiny body panels and flashing lights
6. Align and oil wheels & treads
7. Locate stairs
8. Exterminate them

DALEK’S revised, streamlined, prioritized to-do list.

1. EX-TER-MIN-ATE THEM!!!
2. EX-TER-MIN-ATE THEM!!!
3. EX-TER-MIN-ATE THEM!!!
4. EX-TER-MIN-ATE THEM!!!

6. List makers are automatically looked up to as natural-born leaders!

Take the following scenario for example: Your plane has crashed Lost-style on a remote island. You and your fellow survivors are gathered together for the first time. Everyone is frightened and confused.

Survivor 1:We’re all gunna die! What will we do!!!
(General hysteria and panic from rest of the mob)
You: Well, I’ve made a prioritized Remote Island Survival To-Do list if that’s any help.
(General cheering and prayers of thanks from mob) 
Survivor 2: Great! What’s first on the list?
You: Number One – “Elect a leader”.
Survivor 3: Leader? Well what about you then? It’s your list. You should be leader.
Mob: Yes him/her! The list guy/girl! We want that dude/chick – the one with the list! Only the List-maker can save us! The List-maker has all the answers! List-maker! List-maker! List-maker! List-maker!
You: Ok, ok settle down everyone, I’ll do it. I’ll be your leader. Now let’s see; we’ve elected a leader so I can cross that one off. We’re making good progress!
(General murmur of approval and sense of achievement from mob)
Survivor 2: Cool! What’s next?
You: Point Number Two: “Make sure all of your elected leader’s needs and desires are satisfied before your own.”

7. I have it on good authority that if you make a list and check it twice, you can miraculously gain the ability to know who is naughty and who is nice!

Can you imagine what you could do with information like that?!? Apart from the obvious personal advantages, you could sell that info to tele-marketers for a fortune!

8. Being a list-maker puts you in the same echelon as other famous list-ers like Moses, Schindler, Santa Claus, and that Tower in Pisa. (You might have to think about it for a while. I don’t mind waiting.)

9. Making a list exercises your brain and encourages creative thinking and problem solving.

An example of this would be if you’d promised to make a list of the Top Ten of something or other, but you fell one short. This situation would inspire you to cheat creatively in order to fill the gap in the hope that no one notices.

10. But personally I feel that the most important reason for making a list is this: if you are a Blogger and you construct your Blog in the form of a List, it virtually guarantees that you will get more views and more comments than usual. After all, who doesn’t love a list?  

Cheers
Michael

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blog 23: In which I trace My Brilliant Acting Career

Posted on September 27, 2011 by mgbauer

Having been involved yesterday in filming a scene for Artspear Entertainment  (my son Joe and his partner Rita’s film production company) I thought it high time I outlined the path that I’ve trodden to attain such dizzying heights in the acting business.

1. The earliest role I can recall playing, was the part of a canary way back in Grade One. All I remember about it, are the yellow wings I had to put on and the beak that made it hard for me to see where I was going. Don’t recall what the play was all about, but strangely enough I’ve been terrified by the thought of going down coal mines ever since.  

2. My next opportunity came in Grade Six when our year level performed a mini Annie Get Your Gun type thing at the school speech night which was held each year at Brisbane City Hall. Because I attended an all boys college our ‘Annie’ was actually played by my best friend in grade six Jeff Morris. (To be honest when I saw Jeff for the first time in full costume and make-up as Annie I had to quickly remind myself that we were just good friends.) My own role was as one of three members of the Pony Express. We had a little scene together where we exchanged a few lines while we ate a meal around a campfire. Then we would spontaneously burst into this song:

Galloping, galloping over the hills, boys of the Pony Express!
Stirrup and leather, through all kinds of weather
Ummm … something, something, something, something something … our best!

It was a great song (except for that something, something, something, something something line which I always thought needed more work). The best bit though was that on the speech night itself, instead  of just pretending to sit around a camp fire eating something, the Marist brother directing the show gave us real chicken drumsticks to gnaw on! Everyone else in the cast was so jealous. For a moment there we were officially the highest paid actors in Year Six!

3. Aside from playing a fairly insignificant one-line-speaking Spanish soldier in our year 12 performance of The Royal Hunt of the Sun, I next trod the boards in a few very miniscule roles while I was a teacher at St Peter Claver College. These occurred in the school musicals and eisteddfods. My biggest part came as the lead in a sketch called Boots ‘n All where I played the coach of the worst football team in history (one of the players was actually a girl but no one including the coach realised this). It was a lot of fun and the critics were unanimous – none of them turned up to see it.

I can't remember what is happening here but I'm pretty sure I didn't hit him!

 4. After the stunning highlight of my leading role in Boots ‘n All I guess like so many before me, I was seduced by the celebrity lifestyle and my career floundered. There were the parties, (each year I had one for my birthday – sometimes other people even turned up) the women, (whose pictures I cut out of magazines) and the drugs (my hay fever and sinuses were really playing up!). Luckily many years later I was rescued from acting oblivion by my son Joe who had begun fulfilling his dream of making films. He obviously saw the limitless, untapped acting potential in his father.

5. I started off with various behind the scenes jobs for Joe (transport, stand-in camera man,  making props, holding stuff, keeping quiet while he filmed, being thrown out of my study/bathroom/house, handing over money etc) but eventually I graduated to being in front of the camera. Here are a list of my on-screen credits in Joe’s early school and uni productions.

  • The Faketrix (A 3 hour Matrix take-off): ten second scene where I run away from the camera and get shot in the back. Heart-wrenching stuff.  
  • The Moon Landing – The Director’s Cut: I played a grieving man (alongside daughter Meg) at what is mistakenly thought by the documentary makers to be Neil Armstrong’s funeral. Later on, my legs and feet make an appearance supposedly as those of a cameraman being chased by an angry member of the public. (Nominated for ‘Best legs in a Non-speaking Role’ by Limbs Magazine)
  • Martian Springs: Adrie and I play the parents of the main character (Joe). Our performance resulted in Adrie and me being touted (ok, just by us) as the greatest husband and wife team since Betty and Barney Rubble.
  • The Ping Pong King Kong: me as a master ping-pong player. You can watch the first half of the film here. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it) all you see of me is my fist grabbing the ball right at the end. (This is where the technical tv and film phrase, a ‘grab’ originated) If the second half was on Youtube you would see me taking on both those pathetic ping-pong players at the same time and thrashing them!
  • A Water Carol: Joe cast me in the role of ‘Old Man’. When we came to film my scene I asked Joe when I was going to have my special-effects make-up applied. He said I didn’t need it. You see, that’s how much faith he had in my acting ability!!!! I still get a bit teary-eyed just thinking about it.

6. Finally my big break came with Artspear’s first feature film The Killage. Joe and Rita needed someone to play the part of a bus driver and even though the role involved only a few seconds of screen time in a 100 minute film, it was obvious to me from the start that the success of the entire production would hinge on it! I knew that what they really needed was someone with a deep understanding, appreciation and talent for both acting and fast-paced transport.

And that’s when it hit me. I HAD PLAYED THE PART OF A PONY EXPRESS RIDER IN GRADE SIX! I WAS THEIR MAN! I WAS BORN FOR THIS ROLE! (Luckily, as it turned out, I was also the only person Joe and Rita could find who had a licence to drive a 22 seater bus, so that came in handy too.)

I’m proud of my work on The Killage. In fact my face is the very last image seen on the screen after the credits run. I think you’ll agree, the perfect combination of horror and comedy – just like the film itself!

Unfortunately I'm not in this shot but there's The Killage bus. And how did it get there? Well it didn't drive itself!

Which brings me back to yesterday’s film shoot for an episode of The Void (a six part comedy series written by Joe and starring Joe and Rita which will screen on Briz31 TV in October). The scene they were filming was a take-off of the film Speed and I was playing a bus driver again!

At first I was worried about being typecast and totally losing my versatility as an actor. But then I thought, hey, maybe I’ve found my true calling and anyway, who said you couldn’t be versatile just playing bus drivers? Not all bus drivers are the same are they? Some drive 22 seaters, some 14 seaters, some drive manuals, some automatics, and then there are all the different makes, colours and models  of buses – the possibilities are endless!

So even though I will continue to dabble in writing, I think I have finally found my true niche in the world of acting. Maybe I could even earn a place alongside the greatest screen bus drivers of all time! (And if you don’t think there have been any, then go HERE.)

I’m confident I can make a go of it, because if I’ve learned anything as a result of my acting journey it’s this: in order to succeed in this crazy business it’s not enough just to be super-talented like me. You also need a mountain of passion and determination. You must be driven. And I ask you. Who could be more driven than a bus driver?

Cheers
Michael

 

 

 

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blog 22: In which I say, ‘Happy Father’s Day Dad’.

Posted on September 4, 2011 by mgbauer

From when I was a toddler till well into my teenage years, my father (like the dad in The Running Man) worked away from home, mainly in the Snowy Mountains Scheme, but later, up in the Bougainville mines in PNG. Mum raised my brother, my two sisters and me pretty much entirely by herself. Dad would only be part of the family for a month or two at Christmas each year.

I was never bitter about this situation growing up. It was all I knew. At the time, I never felt like I didn’t have a father or was missing out on anything, and I never doubted for a second that he would return to us at the end of every year. I think this is why I have always loved, and been excited about Christmas.

Father’s come in many shapes and sizes and they fulfil their role in many different ways – some more successfully than others it must be said.

Below is an edited version of what I wrote for my father when he died. It was included in the funeral booklet.

FATHER CHRISTMAS

As a child, my strongest memory of Christmas Eve, was not gazing into the night sky looking out for Santa Claus, but rather sitting on the front steps of our family home in Brisbane, waiting for my father.

Throughout my childhood and into my teenage years, Dad worked down in New South Wales on the Snowy Mountains Scheme operating cranes and bulldozers. This meant we didn’t see him all year. But each Christmas he would drive non-stop from the Snowy to Brisbane in order to spend his annual leave with us.

Each year my father would arrive home late on Christmas Eve where there would usually be a party at our house full of friends and relatives waiting for him. I spent most of those nights sitting on the front steps watching the car headlights turning into our street. As each car came down the hill towards our house, I remember holding my breath, hoping that this would be the one. 

Eventually, one car would approach and begin to slow down and I would feel my heart beating harder as a flashing indicator signalled a right hand turn into our driveway. As soon as I saw the insect speckled grill, the yellow NSW number plate and the dust and dirt from many hours of travelling, I would run inside shouting, “He’s here!  Dad’s home!”

When my father finally lugged his bulging suitcase inside, there would be greetings all round and a cold beer thrust into his grateful hand. My clearest recollection of Dad on those nights was the prickle of his beard stubble when he kissed me, and being lifted high into the air, probably for the first time that year.

Later on, my brother and sisters and I would gather around as my father unbuckled the straps of his big brown suitcase. It was like watching the opening of a treasure chest. In amongst the usual clothes, toiletries and paperback Westerns, were items of real mystery and wonder.

Leather containers held large green and red die along with old pennies marked for Two-Up. Yellow plastic boxes rattled with slides depicting images of my father’s snowy world of trucks, cranes, tunnels and towering dams. An old tin overflowed with coins that my brother and sisters and I would eagerly share. Another was filled with the big shiny ball-bearings Dad would collect from the huge machines he operated and serviced. These I coveted like gold.

The next morning would bring its own special magic. As I woke to the sound of a raspy smoker’s cough coming from ‘mum’s room’ I would suddenly remember that overnight my normal world had been totally transformed.

Dad was home.

Every Christmas Eve, as I pressed my face between the railings of our front steps and waited for that certain set of headlights, I longed for everything that I knew was to come.

Other kids might have had their Santa Claus, but in many ways, Dad was mine. And like every good Santa should, he came from a far-away land filled with ice and snow, bringing joy and happiness at Christmas.

But instead of a bright red sleigh, my Father Christmas drove a mud and insect splattered Holden, and in place of a sack of toys and a jolly ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ he appeared with a battered old suitcase and a raspy smoker’s cough.

He wasn’t perfect, but unlike that other fellow, at least I knew my Father Christmas was real.

And best of all, for a few precious and magical weeks, he lived at my house.

 

“Happy Father’s Day Dad.”

Cheers
Michael

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blog 21: in which I sing, “If you’re daggy and you know it, clap your hands!”

Posted on August 15, 2011 by mgbauer

Not so long ago there was a lot of debate about the Australian Government considering allowing the Parallel Import of books. One of the major concerns was that cheaper American editions of Australian books would replace the original Australian editions. I would hate to see this happen as our unique Australian voice and stories could be lost.

For example, I was thrilled to have my book Don’t Call Me Ishmael! published in America but I wouldn’t want that version to be the one that Australians buy, since it has been edited and adjusted to cater for the American market.

Apart from changes in spelling, in the US edition Ishmael uses words like ‘mom’ rather than ‘mum’ and a chapter about a Rugby Union match has been changed to feature American Football or Gridiron. Other books suffer even more severe changes such as having the story relocated to America. There are some things that get lost in ‘translation’ as well.

There is a line in the Australian version of DCM Ishmael where Ishmael describes the love of his life, Kelly Faulkner as making ‘a daggy face’. When I read the copy proofs of the US edition they had written, that Kelly Faulkner made ‘a caring face.’ Obviously they weren’t familiar with the word ‘daggy’ or ‘dag’. I suggested they try ‘dopey’ or ‘goofy’ or ‘stupid’ even though I don’t think any these has quite the same meaning as ‘daggy’.

If we only get to read Americanised versions of our novels the danger is that some of our uniquely Australian language might die out. And I love the word ‘daggy’! I like the whole idea of it. I particularly like when someone calls themselves a dag. To me it shows that person doesn’t take themselves too seriously, that they can laugh at the fact that maybe they don’t always fit in with the trend, that maybe they’re not always the height of fashion and sophistication, that maybe sometimes they wear some item of clothing or listen to certain music or watch a particular TV show, not because it might make them appear cool or part of the group, but simply because for some unaccountable reason they actually like it and are happy to say so. They are daggy and proud!

Even some of the most sophisticated, talented and admired Australians have acknowledged their ‘inner dag’ and that only makes me like them more. See here.

So in celebration of all things daggy, I have decided to resurrect the DAG CLUB which had its first airing a while back when I was the resident blogger for a couple of months on Insideadog (or Insideadag as I like to call it).

If you think you have what it takes to join the DAG CLUB, why not send a comment and outline the nature of your dagginess (daggicity? daggishness?). Is there something you do, something you like, something about you that marks you out from the common herd and says ‘Dag’?

Perhaps you might like to indicate your current DAG level as outlined below.

Example of Level 3 Dagging.

                                  Level 1: a bit of a dag

                                  Level 2: such a dag

                                  Level 3: a real dag

                                  Level 4: a complete dag

                                  Level 5: an absolute dag 

Of course, if you don’t wish to reveal the actual nature of your dagginess then just send something like the following statement and you’ll feel like a new person.

“My name is ________ and I am  a DAG.”

Naturally no application to join the DAG CLUB will be refused since anyone who responds to this post would have to be at the very least ‘a bit a dag’ anyway, right? 

And yes, I do realise that there exists the very real possibility that this blog will get absolutely no replies at all.  But you know what? I’m totally cool with that.

After all, what could be more appropriate and daggy than for me to end up being President and sole member of my very own Dag Club!

Cheers
Michael

PS And remember, the first rule of Dag Club is: talk incessantly about Dag Club.

 

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