Search blog:
Subscribe to blog posts:

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Synchronicity: Lucy

In 1997, I was a sixteen-year-old first-year med student at UNSW in Sydney. There were few things I missed about my life growing up in Brisbane, but one of them was competing in drama eisteddfods.

America doesn't have anything quite like drama eisteddfods, which are basically monologue competitions, although they can also include duologue, poetry, speech, improvisation, narrative, and reading aloud events. There's at least one eisteddfod in every major Australian city, and Sydney's grand mother of them all is the drama section of the McDonald's Performing Arts Challenge.

Although I had developed a host of shallow drunken friendships at Goldstein College, I always travelled to the PAC alone. This involved a journey of around an hour and a half by bus, train, and on foot to the competition venue, a church on the other side of Sydney. On one night of the eisteddfod, I noticed a girl in the warm-up room. She seemed different. She wasn't being coached militantly or fussily by her parents, or engaging in ridiculous warm-up exercises. We caught eyes, started a conversation and found out we were competing against each other, but unlike most of the competitors, we didn't develop an instant aloofness or antagonism. When the evening was over, she asked her mother to drop me at the nearby train station. Actually, she asked her mother if I could be dropped off all the way at my college, but, given that it was so far away, that wasn't a real option. I adored her for trying, and I didn't forget her. I think she was the only person I spoke to during the entire run of the competition.

This is how I met Lucy.

A year later, I was holding auditions for Rhinoceros, which I was directing for the university theatre. Suddenly, Lucy walked into the room. We recognized each other immediately. She nailed the audition, and played Jean. She also played Constanze in my production of Amadeus.

A year later, we were living together in an apartment on Maroubra Beach, and we were constantly and consistently being amazed by how alike we were, contrary to all logic and reason. Lucy had a friend at college, Laurence, who, unbeknownst to us both, was also one of my work colleagues. One day, Laurence declared that Lucy inexplicably reminded her of someone else she knew. "It's strange," said Laurence, "because you look nothing alike." After Laurence mentioned this several times, Lucy asked for the name of this mystery acquaintance, and of course, it was me. Laurence could scarcely believe it when Lucy explained that we knew each other. In fact, we lived together.

To clarify, Lucy is blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with a peaches-and-cream complexion (except when she is tanned). About the only thing we share physically, aside from basic symmetry, is our height. Lucy wears a lot of color. We also have fairly disparate tastes in music, literature, and pastimes.

Somehow, though, we were born under the same star despite emerging into the world, and into vastly different families, eight months apart. Since we've known each other, almost every time something important happens to one of us, it happens to the other immediately or soon afterwards. When I was a VJ finalist on Channel [V], Lucy was a finalist in a Disney Channel host search. Our love lives were screwed at the same times, and stable at the same times. We both ended up in children's theatre last year. There are a million other examples of our synchronicity, ranging from things as simple as making non-sequitur statements at exactly the same time to undergoing intense life changes simultaneously while on opposite sides of the world.

And now, Lucy tells me that the AMW episode which I mentioned in my last blog entry might well be the one in which she appeared. There is a good chance she was the girl whom I noticed and remembered (who remembers the actors in AMW re-enactments?) fifteen years ago. After all, how many blonde girls with bobs around my age could there possibly have been on AMW at that time?
Post a Comment