Politics makes me angry.

Talking about politics always makes me angry. Not in a rowdy-activisty-shouting way, but in a shit-the-world-is-probably-fucked way. Always. Without fail I feel more alone than I thought possible when talking about politics. Largely because I genuinely don’t understand how it is physically possible for one group of people to not only rule over, and decide what is and is not allowed (surely that’s just another form of slavery), but also that they play with people’s lives. And I know there is usually a hell of a lot going on behind the scenes, a bigger picture if you will, that we the lowly-individuals are not (and will never be) privy to, lest our inadequate brains melt with the complicated politics of it all, but I don’t understand how anyone can actively ensure another’s suffering. I tend, therefore, to avoid these conversations. To laugh them off with disinterest or lack of political understanding. And then I get find myself increasingly angrier with myself, in not wishing to get angry in response to other’s idiotic comments and opinions, I belittle myself. I dumb myself down. I remain silent, having fought for so long to have my own voice. And then I get angry with myself on behalf of all of the women who physically fought for the right to a voice, the right to a vote, who battles hardships to ensure that I could also have a say. And here I am actively refusing to do exactly that.

Politics makes me angry.

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A new chapter.

nb. This isn’t necessarily the happiest of posts. However, sometimes not everything is happy. And sometimes the way to move on from the unhappy is to write it off.

There are many reasons to write, or not to write. When you’re happy, sad, angry, empty, tired, passionate, hopeful, disappointed. It’s often harder to share that writing with someone, however. I’ve done a lot of the writing this year. Very little that I’ve shared, or even looked at again once pen had left paper. But to burst that bubble, as it were. A few excerpt-glances into the stream of consciousness that is my life.

December.
It is a necessity sometimes to get lost, so that you can get found. Or rather, so that you can find yourself. You are never going to be able to please everyone. It is simply an impossible task. And in trying to do so, you end up only ensuring your own misery, confusion, emptiness. No longer knowing your own mind because so long has been spent appeasing the minds of others.

January.
The truth is rarely pure, and never simple -Oscar Wilde. Can’t breathe. Won’t breathe. Don’t know how to breathe. An inability to correctly operate the organs more commonly known as lungs…Written out of a story I didn’t realise I’d been writing.

Remembering. Nostalgia. Memory. A shiver of recognition that this is what I should be doing. What I’m meant to be doing. Why I am doing what I’m doing. Why the stress, the blind panic, the passion, and the tears. The constant belief of inadequacy and inability to succeed. To create. To direct and aesthetically visualise. Sleepless nights that give way to dream worlds of playful darkness.

February.
Empty.
There is no etiquette…Feel all of the feels. They exist for a reason.
Small talk, the worst kind. Mundanities covering emotional profanities. An inability to express, to confess.

March.
(I had an operation in March. Very little was written about, except the taste of blood. I’ll spare you the taste of blood.)

April.
Destruction of the first passionate, inspired feeling in months. Destruction in seconds. A breath of hope, the first in far too long. Pick your battles. Not all are worth fighting. It is your story – write well, edit viciously. Bloodshed does not always a good novel make. Find your happy. Your dreams, do those.

April is difficult. Season changed, clocks changed. April is about finding, building, sanity. April is not going well. April is insane; self-inflicted alienation.

May.
(May was equally quiet. Maybe I just didn’t spend a lot of May thinking. Maybe I spent too much of May on things outside of my head. Probably for the best, considering how the beginning of the year shaped up inside my head.)

June is so far significantly better. If you were wondering. Less of the writing, more of the living. More of the planning. More of the good kinds of being in my head. July is the new chapter. The chapter that takes me on adventures. Not necessarily swash-buckling, or dragon-slaying. But adventures that have been brewing for a while, all the same.

Painting Faces again.

Despite the stress, lack of sleep, poor diet, high-levels of caffeine, and inability to have a normal/successful social life, there is something about the arts that keeps us coming back. By ‘us’ I am of course referring to the addicts. The crazy few who spend days/weeks/months feeling restless and wander around completely numb, as though missing a limb when we should be relaxing and enjoying time away from the stress of the theatre. Those of us who drop everything at the click of a finger to fling ourselves headfirst into any opportunity to have even the slightest involvement in a production.

In my final year of studies I found myself directing the University’s musical. It was stressful. It was exhausting. It almost definitely had a negative affect on my final grade. It was probably the best thing I did in the entire three years I spent there.

This week I get to relive the thrill of a University musical. Having been eagerly awaiting Sussex University’s production of Spring Awakening for the past 5 months, I agreed last week to come on board as go-to hair and makeup lady. In the truly unconventional style that I approach pretty much everything in life with however, I cannot attend all 5 of the performances. Therefore, I got to spend yesterday giving tutorials on mid-1800 au naturale style stage makeup, teach college boys how to successfully apply eyeliner without looking emo, and create fail-safe plans to hold extreme hair styles in place under stage lights and through vigorous dance routines. This, my friends, is why I love theatre.

So, Autumn and Winter happened…

I’ve been offline for a while. And yes by “offline” I do in fact just mean “been-really-crap-at-blogging”, because actually all my other online selves have been pretty active.

So to sum up the past 4 and a half months:

– I spent a while without a house. You remember this, I was moaning about not having a house and having to spend all my time in starbucks so that I could steal their wifi in order to find a house. Well, improvement: I have a house.

– I have a house. A pretty nice one too. A really, pretty nice one in fact, with wooden floors and old fire places, and a garden, and such a massive improvement on the student house I resided in for the past 2 years, that in some ways the 4 months of sofa-surfing was totally worth the wait. In some ways. The back-pain and frequent tears were not.

– I have a job. Dude. I know, it’s almost like I’m getting control on life or something. Admittedly, it’s only part-time, but it’s keeping me busy, and keeping a roof over my head. So all in all, things are pretty good there too.

– I did another show. Remember last year when all I could talk about was Rent the musical and my degree show? Well, I did another one of the musical things. And this time it was all off my own back. Basically, I’m now one-third of the creative team behind the Brighton theatre company: Fight or Flight Productions. And we did a show. And it was pretty good. At some point I’ll probably go into more detail about how the 10 week process of a show was completely different to the several month process, but for now all you really need to know is that Company was fucking awesome. And that I won’t be stopping making theatre any time soon.

Okay, so that’s pretty much it. My life in four simple bullet points. I’ll be back soon with more bullet points, maybe.

Back due to popular demand.

That’s a lie. But it made for a good title..

So hi there Internetland. It’s been a while. Mostly my fault, okay totally my fault. But who’d have guessed that there would be a point in my life where enough was going on to make procrastination unnecessary? Crazy. Totally crazy.

Basically exams happened. That was fairly lame. And then I turned 20. That was pretty awesome. Aside from the panic about suddenly being old and almost having responsibilities and a job and a family and real-life and all that malarkey. Once the panic was over I got to dress as a dinosaur. And that was beautiful..

RAWR.

Because yes. Being a dinosaur is the obvious choice for a newly turned 20 year old.

Then I went traipsing across Europe on a 24 hour coach ride. I know. *What* was I thinking.. Well, I actually just wanted to sing. Basically, the show choir went on tour to Italy with the University Big Band. Anyway, we ended up half way up a mountain near Lake Garda – so beautiful.. Had a few nights singing, few days chilling in the sun. It was pretty ace. I genuinely had no idea Italy was so beautiful. Lame, but true.

The one thing that greatly upset me was the way that Verona has been plagued with touristy gimmicks for Romeo and Juliet. Sorry to break it to you guys, but they WERE NOT REAL PEOPLE. Therefore spending stupid amounts of money to see each of their houses, their balcony and Juliet’s tomb (?!) = a silly plan. Just saying.

It’s nice to be nice.

When I was a hell of a lot smaller than I am now, I never really understood how useful and important it is to know how and when to be nice to someone. My Uncle was a massive fan of the phrase “It’s nice to be nice”, and although I liked the ring to it, I didn’t really see it as a philosophy on how to live your life.. Not to say that I was a pint-sized-bitch, I just don’t think I ever consciously decided to be ‘nice’ per say.

Now however? Oh god, I deserve some serious gold stars for my nice-ness..

It’s been a stressful week. Week and a half. And it’ll no doubt be an even tougher 7 days this coming week. Exhaustion is familiar. Emotions are high. Food is a thing of the past. And tension is the new laugh. It’s the run up to our practical exam, needless to say, everyone is ready to snap.. And yet I’m finding tact, and the ability to remain calm and ‘nice’, is the toughest challenge.

There’s something remarkably intimate about theatre, especially as one of the performers: you spend such a large quantity of time with one another, and see each other at their best and worst moments. This is the same for a drama degree, to some extent. There is so much riding on us working as a group to create an incredible piece of work, and it can therefore, obviously, be stressful when people aren’t working to the same level or effort.

Now don’t get me wrong, our entire group is fab. All talented, all lovely, and all work exceedingly well together – which is actually surprising, I’d predicted more fireworks in that department. But it’s tough at this stage when everyone is exhausted, and stressed, and little things become massive issues. It’s at this point that remaining happy and calm and nice is essential..

I was directed to this site the other day, my housemate felt I could do with a smile, and it seems so fittingly perfect for what I’m trying to say. Little things, in all their glory, are what make each day special. I think it’s important to remember that, even when you’re ready to throw scalding coffee at someone, it’s nice to be nice..

Have a biscuit.

I care as much about X Factor as I do about football. Look at me blogging about everything but..

Firstly, I need to lay off the binbags. Secondly, I’m home.

There have been far too many occasions lately for which I’ve deemed it appropriate to dress entirely in bags. FAR TOO MANY. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve created some pretty fantastic items of clothing – there is definitely the opportunity for a fashion craze there – but really? Plastic bags? I need to work on my whole creative-thinking thing. Because I’m sure there are ways to dress up without looking like a bag-lady. Seriously.. I managed to wear them last Christmas for a ‘credit crunch’ theme, and then at Halloween to transform myself into a werewolf. Friday’s was mildly less exciting though really, a bag-lady. Genuinely. I guess it was kinda appropriate to be wearing bags then really..

Also, I really should have left my camera in it’s state of death. Whilst bringing it back to life was actually mega exciting – I essentially have the Jesus of cameras, this is possibly the 3rd time it’s died and then come back almost 6 months later – seeing those beautiful photos several days later was less exciting. More ‘oh-man-why-did-I-think-going-out-in-orange-sainsburys-bags-was-a-good-idea’. Yeah. Orange. That is never a good idea..

Anyway, everything else. Life (or the lack of as the case may be) has been interesting. No no, really. I’ve probably spent the best part of a week on the same square inch of my bed furiously typing 7500 words. That’s practically a dissertation. I shouldn’t be at that level of hell yet. No siree.. I’m just that muppet who leaves an entire weeks worth of deadlines until the weekend before, what a cliche.

On the plus side I’ve made it through what had the potential to be the most stressful term as of yet, who am I kidding, it *was* the most stressful term as of yet. But I survived, and now get to relax for a short while..

Beaut.

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks..

Life is one of those things that you moan and moan about when it’s shit, and moan and moan about when it’s busy, and moan and moan about because you wish you had one.. But when it’s actually happening? You don’t seem to be able to sit down and even think about it, let alone moan.

Last weekend I worked Welcome Weekend for the new freshers of Sussex Uni, and not only did I feel old, but I also realised I have the art of moaning down to a tee. Provided of course that you’ll believe it’s an art. We moaned because it was early, because it was busy, because it was quiet, because it was cold, because it was dragging on.. I can’t list them all to be honest. Not only will you get insanely bored, but I’ll end up depressed by just how negative I was. Which is strange, because I was actually pretty chirpy. Got people enthusiastic about cake and the drama society and the refurbished bar – hey I know what brand new students want to hear about, ‘kay? My biggest moan though was about how much my feet hurt. Lame I know, especially when you bear in mind the reason that they were so painful in the first place..

Fashion Week always seems to fall right in the middle of a busy couple of weeks, making it instead a crazy couple of weeks. And I’ve only worked two seasons.. This time round I felt more confident, probably aided by the fact that I’ve easily grown in confidence in the past 6 months alone, especially when it comes to being myself and doing things independently. What can I say, I’m growing up. (I realise that actually verbalising that makes me seem as naive as they come, but hey, I know what I mean..) But my feet hurt. A lot. That didn’t change..

Just because we can..

So, there comes a time when you actually get around to doing something you should have done long ago. In my case (well, today at least) this is using Garage Band for the intent it was designed, ie. actually recording something worth while. Obviously, the perfect time for doing this is after a day of rehearsals (in the brother’s case), or painting faces and stressing over future house (in mine).. (Note: future house, faces and rehearsals are sorted/went swell respectively. Fantastic..) Of course the best time for recording isn’t in the middle of a chilled out day full of hot water and lemon. Nah..

It’s badly recorded (I’m only human after all), and if you really wack the volume up my voice will probably engulf you, but have a listen. Myself (vocals) and the brother (vocals and guitar) playing ‘Anyone Else But You‘ by The Moldy Peaches..

(You have *no* idea how long it took me to work this out. But, and it’s a big but, I did it all myself. Go me and my lack of technophobia.. Awesome)