I'll Be Whoever You Want Me To Be, I'll Even Pretend I Like It

I met a man who changed my life.

I was waiting for a tram, and he pulled over to the curb in his late 90s model Holden Commodore and said,

'Get in Jane, I'll give you a lift to work.'

Now, you all know that my name is not Jane, and that I was not on my way to work, but somehow, without thinking for even a second, I decided to get into that Holden Commodore, with this man I'd never seen before in my life, and be driven off to a job I didn't know I had.

When I got to the office, everyone welcomed me, and knew my name (which, as we have established was not really my name, but one I had rather hastily assumed) and were happy to show me about the place, finding it comical that I suddenly couldn't remember where things were- for example the stationary cupboard, or the lunch room.

At the end of the day, the man with the Holden Commodore (whose name I had learned was Greg) kindly offered to give me a lift home, which I accepted- and when I got to the unfamiliar house somewhere up the top end of Lygon St (which could have been North Fitzroy or East Brunswick, it's always hard to tell) he was able to show me where I kept my spare key for emergencies and I was able to let myself in.

The house had all the things I would need for my new life as Jane- toiletries, clothes, a pantry full of food, and a little pot plant on the window sill that looked like it hadn't been watered in quite some time.

Years passed, and I began to enjoy my life as Jane- I even got promoted, and all the people at the office threw me a big party, at which we all got tipsy, and Greg (who still drove his late 90s model Holden Commodore) tried to kiss me by the photocopiers, which I wasn't sure I really liked, but I went along with it- probably because of the champagne, but maybe also because, in a round about way, it was because of him that I had got this promotion.

Some time later I was walking up Collins St in a pair of heels that said, 'I mean business' and someone stopped right in front of me and called me by a name I had all but forgotten.

I stared deep into their eyes, looking for the reflection of the person who belonged to the name they had called me, but I couldn't see her.

I said politely,

'I'm very sorry, but I think you have me confused with somebody else'.

And I walked purposefully away.

I didn't want to be late for my meeting.

What Are You Doing To Prepare For Impending Doom?

I'm teaching myself to swim.

That's a lie, I already know how to swim, what I'm doing is trying to improve my technique. Be faster, stronger. I figure it will come in handy. You know, with global warming and everything. When those ice caps melt I'm going to be ready.

I'm also teaching myself to wrestle polar bears. And catch large fish with my bare hands. I eat plenty of sashimi, seaweed- that sort of thing, so I'll reckon I'll be well prepared for the lack of earth grown foods. I don't even know if I'll miss them that much.

I also have a whale-stomach-simulator rigged up in my back yard. You know, in case I get swallowed by a whale. Cos that's happened before. The important thing is the breathing. You've got to do it, even though it stinks like rotting fish down there. Which is just common sense, I guess, but there's no harm in getting it just right.

With these key survival skills, and the happy coincidence that I live on the second floor, I think I'll get along just fine. I'll sunbake on the roof, subsist on whatever swims past my window and I'll be able to do breast stroke to get anywhere I need to go (which we'll all have to do; all petrol reliant vehicles will have been outlawed by then).

Yep. I'm ready.

What are you doing to prepare for impending doom?