the past 7 days – spent in Limbo, spiralling boredom, and art galleries

Some pic, Tumblr, 2015.
Some pic, Tumblr, 2015.

I’m in a good mood right now so am eager to write- thus providing the internet with a totally false, happy-go-lucky, carefree version of myself (which only really is evident for around 20 minutes in a 168 hour week.) So enjoy this you guys! (As I typed this, my speakers broke.)

I’ve had a strange old time this week where I have been under a horrific spell of self-loathing and doubt- that culminated in…nothing of value or use to me.

I wrote a blog post a few days ago basically called…”I’M IN LIMBO AND I AIN’T GOT A SAT NAV” documenting my existential crises of the past 36 hours with a lot of corrosive self pity and shameful put downs.

Feeling a little inbetween (see last post) has blossomed into a huge, weighty, dragged-down feeling of being totally in the realms of absolute limbo. (I googled “in limbo” after writing that, as I am often struck by these fancy phrases that we use in daily life so casually. In limbo! Language is silly, and weird.)

Some of my favourite definitions found (one’s I am relating to):

 

  • To be in Limbo basically means you are subject to circumstances beyond your control that prevent you from doing something.

YES!

  • a place to which persons or things are regarded as being relegated when cast aside, forgotten, past, or out of date

er…yeah YUH!!

 

  • in the Middle-Ages, the Church told people that if they didn’t pay some money to the Church, they would go to purgatory (Christian word for Limbo).

So at least now I know WHY I’m in Limbo. (I never used to put my money in the collection basket.)

 

I feel totally unworthy of things I’m applying for. I know that I’m not really, and I can do it, and I am so capable *exhausts self of hopeful self-affirmation.* I feel stuck in where I am, and I need someone to give me a shot. Maybe I need that someone to be me, and give MYSELF a shot to be more positive and not hold that metaphorical gun to my head every time I begin a new application form.

I didn’t publish it because a) I was in Limbo, with no Wifi, DUH- and b) there’s already too many negative, self-deprecating things on the internet, in my journal and in the world. I know I am feeling really anxious and need some time away from this endless stream of babbling consciousness when I write a sentence that is totally incomprehensible and lacks any sort of cohesion. Usually getting unnecessarily frustrated or upset; I usually cure it by reading a book, of any kind (i.e Princess Diaries 2), like : “Hey! Words do go together!” THUS, my faith in writing is restored and I leave the computer for a bit to go do something SO unrelated, like make banana pancakes, just to, chill, and like be, y’know? (I’m tired.)

Anyway, Saturday is my favourite day as I get to go to London and do some acting classes, so I usually end up coming home feeling pretty inspired and ready to add ANOTHER book based on Stanslavski’s ‘system’ & ‘toolkit’ to add to my Amazon Wishlist.

Currently, I am amidst huge, mounting to-do lists expecting a lot of me daily. They usually begin with SHOWER!!! – which says a lot about my lifestyle. I’m getting a few invitations concerning interviews for workshops and jobs I’ve been applying to which makes the dire process of online application forms and deadlines seem a little more tolerable.

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Meanwhile + ALSO: Last week, I went into town a few hours earlier than I needed to for three reasons. It was a Thursday, I’d a) had another rejection email from a drama school and needed some time spent thinking alone, b) broke one of my nails and needed a repair ASAP, c) planned to go around CV dropping, cause, like, money, and like, money.

On the way to do none of these things, I walked towards our local museum and was wonderfully surprised by the exhibition that had replaced the huge, yellow, swirling inflatable thing that had greeted me on my last visit. (It was eerily noisy.)

muse

Last autumn I went to a playwrighting workshop set up by Metal Peterborough, an Arts Council funded platform for local artists- where we spoke about the tricky process of beginning to write something proper for stage. I wrote about it here, I think.

I saw some of the winning scripts this week, at a rehearsed reading night, also at the Gallery. Part of me regretted not trying harder at creating something for the project (I initially struggled with playwrighting a lot more than I thought I would)- but the standard of the work produced was so touching and funny that I’ve decided to have another go at it. (I think the key with writer’s block is to begin with a pre-exisiting idea rather than a blank page. Jean Luc-Godard said…*adjusts tie and clears throat with a smug facial expression*: ‘It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.’) Anyway.

The workshop and playwrighting project was in conjunction with the group’s project of last year – ‘Metal Billboard’ – which culminated in the exhibition I saw last Thursday at the museum. The Billboard artwork posed 10 questions, combined with 10 artist’s interpretations of the given text.

  • What happens next?
  • Are migrants not humans?
  • Are you worth it?
  • What’s an Artist worth?
  • Why do animals exist?
  • Can you Fall up?
  • For how much longer do we tolerate mass murder?
  • What role does love play in economics?
  • What is necessary here?

(how about THAT  to clear your writer’s block!!)

In September of last year, 10 of these billboards were up around the city, my favourite being the ‘What Happens Next?’ piece, above above, that is stuck ABOVE my bed (so many aboves) which is probably the reason why I struggle to be able to have ‘lazy days’ at home- as I’m constantly reminded that I should be trying to answer that question.

Combined with this was the ‘100 Journals’ project, which was utterly captivating and eye-opening- I’ve been keeping diaries and scrapbooks for a long time and love nothing more than to nose through other people’s lives.

Unfortunately, as is the nature of journals – people (including me in a ((metaphorically)) double padlock kind of way) tend to keep them secretive. Stumbling across this collection of OTHER people’s journals, just lying there for me to read ON A RED CHAIR WITH LEOPARD PRINT CUSHIONS – I mean ????!!

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Isn’t it a lovely, simple idea: people keeping a collection of their supposedly mundane and everyday thoughts in a cheap notebook which is then displayed in an art gallery for everyone to read. It was nice to realise that there were people living in my city who were just like me, but due to the anonymity of the project, I had no idea who they were. Which is nice really, as they could be anyone.

I have to go, but thanks for reading.

I am working on a few pieces on paper at the moment which I will type up here if I get a free hour or two. (I usually have a free hour or two. Or three.)

All my love,

T.A.L

x

 

having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card – 15/10/14

I am writing from my local library, somewhere I have come to love really too dearly since all of my friends moved away to make it big in bigger cities. Obviously, being a total nerd – quite surprising for those who would see me as a cool, hip young thing with an icy persona, I probably would live in the library – so comforting is it with it’s books, CD’s, DVD’s and internet access. And magazines! You can actually loan out MAGAZINES from the library! I will never have to spend another penny again in my life, which is comforting, as I only have about 14 of those at current.

Caitlin Moran wrote a lovely piece about how libraries are the “Cathedrals of Our Souls” – which is so lovely and true, commenting on the fact that it really is the last places on our high streets where we are still a citizen, rather than a consumer. I also didn’t realise I could use a computer here; obviously I’d seen people on them before but thought maybe that was part of a super deluxe package of being a library member. Alas, here is a free for all. Hooray for libraries!

Meanwhile, I’ve just been back at my former school to return books from THEIR library (a definite recurring theme here today) and was very kindly told since I obviously liked the edition so much (it was a lovely, tatty old version of Le Petit Prince) I could keep it and not pay a fine! Plus my old French teacher signed it for me with the message “meilleur voeux!” Best wishes!

Also, I was told if I wanted to help with the production, I’d need a police check- so am going back for my CRB check tomorrow – l o l x 10000. Is this what adulthood is?

Going to see Gone Girl tonight with Momma. Things are alright, and I think I’m okay at the moment. Began my Gap Year Diploma at Central School on Saturday and it exceeded all expectation- I am very excited to fully commence. Reading everything I possibly can about drama school, and nearly finished my application. Now comes the challenging job of finding suitable audition pieces again………

Sorry that this was such a diary post, but I haven’t had a pen for the last 2 days (only lip liner, and there are tooooo many journal entries in my notebook writing solely in lip liner- and that madness has to stop sometime.)

Write soon,

T A L x

Things and more things – “It’s October 3rd”

Mini Paradise from Above my Desk with a Photo- Emma Dajska
Mini Paradise from Above my Desk with a Photo- Emma Dajska

I must make this post as short/or as a fast- as I can, as it is one of those beautiful, early-day in October sort of days where the sunshine is lazy and you can wear a jumper and drink tea whilst soaking up the warmth.

I’ve been offered a place on the Gap Year Diploma at the Central School of Speech and Drama! How grand. I may have wrote that in my last post. I literally have no idea what I post on here, no real recollection, and people say like “Oh yeah! I read that on your blog!” and I cringe deeply, in horror and regret ever saying words, ever.

The course should hopefully be very helpful for my application to drama schools again this year (if I EVER get round to it) – and really, REALLY hopefully be a good investment and starting point for me as a serious, professional actor-er in the long run. I plan to write about my drama school audition experience this year on here, as I’ve read a few and they can be very reassuring and helpful.
I feel very positive about me as a creative person right now, with the promise of this and new writing opportunities – and I can only thank certain people (particularly him) brimming with endless-optimism, general romanticism for life and genuine belief in me for that. I am very lucky, and grateful for First Aid Kit and their latest release for instilling literally ALL hope and resilience that us young lay-deez can essentially do anything, if we’re Swedish and have a sister.

(OH YES, we saw First Aid Kit last Wednesday- very very quickly, it was breathtaking – and I cried for the VERY beginning to the end, and then some, and spent a LOT of money on Montepulciano d’Abruzzo. A LOT.)

I am enjoying gap year life a lot more than I thought I would. Yes, I have to write nightly to-do lists just to ensure I get out of bed in the morning, but I am reading a LOT, (finally getting through the reading list that catastrophically built up in my stressful last year at school) – I can eat lunch, or brunch, or both, and then have a pre-dinner before dinner (bliss)- I can go for a run at 2pm, or 11pm, watch films, watch make-up tutorials on YouTube, read plays, scrapbook for HOURS, it really is a utopian lifestyle for me, the born-again, totally-devout procrastinator.

I have so much more to say but I’ll save it for my long-suffering journal pages. My mum thinks I’m getting too skinny, so keeps ‘treating’ me by leaving chocolate in the fridge to (her words, not mine) ‘fatten me up.’

I have to go now, there is a KitKat Chunky put in the fridge before I started writing- which should be perfectly chilled by the time I click Publish.

Enjoy the sunshine, mamasitas.

All my love, TAL. X

“What makes me sad, won’t make me quit”

I wrote this on the way home from London, after another (failed) audition today. I am typing it up fairly tipsy and pub-bound, so exaggerations probably will be everywhere. (I am writing this after I wrote the things below and now I am quite drunk)

Saturday 18th January 2014~~~

It has been a total rollercoaster of a day, and I felt I had to buy a new notebook and pen because I knew I would want to write on the train journey home. Although I don’t know what exactly.

I do this thing every time I get a rejection from yet another drama school where I walk around Leicester Square/Covent Garden to see that the theatre actually exists outside of stuffy waiting rooms full of hopeful and jittering auditionees. I hit a total slump earlier and nearly cried on the Tube (this is actually a way embarassing situation)- which is ridiculous as my only problem to an outsider is not getting into a highly competitive and prestigious drama school, which is so dumb.

Then I walked across the Waterloo Bridge to go to the National and buy a ticket for the matinee, I was like: I don’t care what the show is! I’m gonna be reckless!- but it was The Light Princess, which is apparently quite shit, so I just moped about in the bookshop for about an hour, recklessly spending £20 on a collection of new plays by Dennis Kelly (which is actually delicious) because I am sick of Sartre and Pinter and old men in black turtlenecks telling me my choice of speech is unusual and ‘So you say you have read around other existentialist playwrights, tell me more???’ **Obviously I only wrote that to appear like I am well-read!! Duh!*

Anyway, so I was sitting at this caff on the South Bank, obviously with a face of death, as this guy approaches me and starts talking to me. At first, I gave him no attention: You are a homeless man, I have no change because I have just spent my last £20 on this ridiculous book (I hadn’t started it yet, it is actually awesome) – please let me be etc. But then I realise he was just telling me to ‘Smile’- and of course you have to force yourself to smile, which is funny in itself, as this stranger is forcing me to do something so I laugh, and he said:

“Fuckinghell I’m homeless, and I’m still smiling!”, and I thought, “Fuckinghell he’s homeless and he’s still smiling!” He went on to say, “Whoever’s made you feel like this, just be like fuck em.” Then he walked off repeating “Do what you want to do, be what you want to be”

God that sounds like such a lie. I could literally write a book about the weird experiences I have with strangers like this AKA guardian angels sent from heaven. Over the past few months I have had a few encounters with these male angels (albeit some dirtier than others), and they’ve all cheered me up or taught me something (even if that is only – when you think you could have another few Jagerbombs, you have already had way too many and it is time to go home.)

After this man walked away, I picked up my new book and started to read it with a fresh mind. Everything that had happened to me this morning suddenly didn’t feel like an end anymore, instead it felt like a new start in the sense where I could say ‘Hey, maybe that particular course genuinely isn’t what I want to do.”

I think my main trouble recently has been trying to do everything, which has meant that I haven’t been able to do anything properly at all. There is no point being like ‘Chill! Everythin’s easy!’ unless you truly believe it, but I think come June, I can start enjoying it all a bit more, rather than going to auditions so unprepared because I had to conjugate millions of French verbs the night before. Anyway, this is not forever. Ephemeral, and all that.

The hardest thing about rejection is being told that you are not good enough at the something you have chosen to be best at. I am coming to accept that this is just going to keep happening again and again, but hopefully my journal entries will get shorter & shorter as I learn how to cope.

As long as I can cling onto the spark, and stop seeing the ‘struggle’ as so much of a struggle, things will have to gradually start heading somewhere, wherever that is. It is not a struggle really at all, it is something that I am quite sure I really want to do, and to just have the chance to try to achieve this is v. exciting.

X

Bye
Bye