I had this many pins and some, in my hair today! I lost several before I made it home! I swear there is at least a packet there! #BigHairDontCare
Could you really? We all like to think we can empathize and sympathize with our fellow man (I do not do political correctness) but do we really even try past politeness sake? Are we sure we don’t gloss over and nod and apologise?
I have had a pretty shitty last year in particular. I say shitty as it hasn’t left me fighting for my life, I have not had to deal with the loss of a friend or relative (thank you god) I am still with a roof over my head. So am I about to commit a first world problems offence? Let’s see.
I like to think that I am pretty self aware. I feel like I have always tried to dredge up real empathy for those sharing something distressing or personal. But after the last few months of trials life has served me over the net, and my less and less ability to hit the solutions back, I have begun to re-think and reassess.
Have I glossed over and made someone else feel like their issue was just a irritation to my timetable?
I definitely feel like I have committed the offense of being An inconvenience on their walk from the station, forcing them to will their house was a different direction from the station to mine?
I was broken into several years back and it took me a good long while to get over it. Actually let’s go back even further, I was once taking a very lame typical tourist shot of the arc de ‘ triumph with my mum trying not to smile in front of it, when a blur of dirt and leather flew inches from my face swiping the shiny silver cyber shot from my fingers. My last years birthday present. To all those of the younger generation that is a camera. One separate from a phone. A stand alone camera.
I stupidly with one thought in my head started to chase the blur. My thought being that I had for once actually taken pictures at one of my ice skating shows and was not about to lose the images that I wouldn’t be able to get back. So I’m running through streets of Barcelona that I don’t know at all after this a-hole. Letting him weave me deeper into the alleyways of local neighbour hoods. People standing in doorsteps just watch as I yell asking them to “STOP HIM” or Please help me”. selfishly not even thinking about where my mother was or her fear for my saftey.
Thankful to my mothers encouragement of my ice skating and a ferocious Scottish woman called Margarita(my coach) I had fitness endurance and so managed to keep running till the morrocan tea leaf got exhausted. we ended up in an opening where building works had started but were now abandoned. I had got a hold of his jacket and asked him for my camera. I even tried to punch him. I may have given him a dead arm but he managed with his other arm to punch me. It made me flinch and let go of his jacket. I couldn’t see my camera and felt like it had all been pointless. Then suddenly my Mother appeared. She looked shaken but still she forcefully asked for the camera but the nasty piece instead picked up a brick and threw it at us just as 3 police officers came round the corner. Apparently whilst I was out jogging for 15mins with the sheisse a man had tried to assist my mum, he succeeded and managed to get police officers to boot! How they found me I don’t know, although I did realise we hadn’t actually traveled that far as on the run we past a fat man who just watched from his door way offering no assistance what so ever, not even a foot to trip up my running companion. I saw him 3 times, so really we were just doing circles.
Anyways, after the brick throw and the arrival of the police, my jogging partner tried to run off but this time his marathon was cut short. The police dragged him back to where we were less than 30 seconds later. All got sorted. Ive got kind of off track haven’t i?
So anyway, the Barcelona marathon incident meant I was a pain to go away with. Actually not just when away, I became very conscious of everyone around me. Suspicious of everyone around me. On the tube, in a sop, in a restaurant, I became so insistent on knowing and checking where mine and whoever I was with’s belongings were. My poor ex-boyfriend managed not to throttle me when I made him check certain items for like the 100th time. Then when the house got burgled I started hating leaving the house unattended.
Now that was over 8 years ago but it was only last year that I started to not worry about leaving the radio on, or lights in case we didn’t get back before it got dark. Stopped hiding my jewelry away and had it on my dresser. So of course, like a lesson, we got broken into again. This time it was even worse. We came home to someone locking the door from the inside. The cheeky ducker then went back upstairs and proceeded to steal several favored possessions. Thank god for my Marine, who free ran over the fence and broke into the house giving the little sheisse less time than he had wanted and he only cleared out our bedroom.
Ive heard the Chinese say being stolen from is to save you from a worse fate. I used to cling onto that. Now I’m just scared, scarred and angry. I have tried to empathise with the image of the burglar. but the consistent sleepkess night I know have, still waking with every creak in the house. Lying there for an hr trying not to breath to make sure that creak wasn’t a nasty skanky tea leaf. Going to auditions looking like a bag of doodoo thanks to this banker which means I am not at my best to win the ever enduring competition of auditioning.
Does that mean I am not really that self aware or empathetic or did it just get all used up. I didn’t choose to take drugs, I didn’t choose to leave home. I may not have liked everything all of the time but I listened to my parents, I respected their words of advice and I am where I am. Just because you may not be where you want to be or are jealous of other people having more than you does not mean its ok to make it their problem. This year we have had our number plates stolen twice, a log placed by our back wheels with the aim of making us damage our wheels. People have been taking phone contracts and insurances out in my name(how kind of them).
I know these are superficial issues and I am incredibly grateful for our health. For my close family member to have fought cancer, for one of our friends to have survived losing three limbs and to have taken life by the horns and built his house and had 2 fathered two children. I guess its because of those serious issues that I am unable to empathise with the low life shits of this world.
I for the first time since the world was subjected to it 4 years ago, watched 5 mins of ‘The Only Way is Essex’.
It was painful! Now I sometimes like a bit of reality TV as for acting purposes it is brilliant to watch human behavior. When things aren’t completely scripted, catching little moments of true reaction is priceless.
TOWIE however is not! It was just painful. I feel like people who are so painfully aware of the camera are unable to ever fully let go, without it being for the cameras. I also feel so uncomfortable for the cast involved that I just felt so uneasy for the whole 5minutes that it was definitely not a relaxing experience. I don’t like being a bitch and being completely negative as that doesn’t help anyone.
<blockquote>Don’t open your mouth if you ain’t got nothin nice to say.<blockquote>
So where am I going with this? Who knows right now, my brain is like jelly. I guess my thoughts are, why is it so popular? Why do people watch it? and what is its purpose?
I have kept on the washing gloves and not felt forced to remove them to change my background noise whilst washing up with the likes of “Made in Chelsea” or even Big Brother. Although I say that and the last time I even mistakenly caught Big Brother Davina McCall was still presenting it so I shouldn’t really paint them with the same brush as it has since moved to Channel 5 and who really knows what goes on there. But my point being is that it didn’t bother me and make me so physically and mentally uncomfortable as “towie” did. Is it because I have more of a connection of people from Essex than those from Chelsea? Almost like ridiculous American soaps that Americans scorn at but we find cute? Is it that my grandma lives in Essex and I find it remotely offensive, or actually more like distressing that they have turned it fashionable to be Chavvy in the whole of Essex not just Brentwood? Who knows, I just know that I couldn’t even use it as an acting lesson. The accents are so exaggerated, I don’t even recognise it and I spent many a summer in Southend dipping in and out of the turd water down at the Sea Front with Traaayc, Weeyaes and Claiyah (tracy, wesley and Clare).
I think I’m still trying to work out why I disliked it so as normally any reference or link to where either of my families are from gives me that warm fuzzy feeling. I love that geordie with his fabulous houses program, i used to be addicted to Biker Grove. But that may have been for another reason entirely. I blame that whole debacle on the warm fuzzy feeling the accent gave me, but lets leave that there.
Ok lost my train of thought! Again! Apologies! Again!
Anyways I guess what I’m saying is its not for me. And its not because of being a reality show. I’m not that pompous negative person.
Just the wingy moany questioning one.
Whatta to do, whatta ta do! I am Miss Scaredy cat, Miss Cautious, Miss not very good with change but trying to be. I have also hit a mile stone of responsibility, which if you follow my blog you will have seen I got a Buddy. A Chorkie to be precise. It was either that or a tattoo or a perm. I am still thinking about a tattoo but I cannot decide where or what. Picking a dog was easier, my heart chose for me. A tattoo unfortunately is a conscious decision. Well maybe not for the inebriated but it is for me.
Now what should be even simpler as its not permanent, its not life threatening, its not even really a big deal but deciding whether to get a perm or not seems like a big deal to me. Is that because I don’t have enough in my life to worry about I hear you murmur. Its a ridiculous first word problem and quit your nattering I hear from the other corner but still in my head this is a big deal.
Why do we (or is it just me?) make a mountain out of the mole hill that is a superficial decision. Is is that the superficial is the one thing that gets you through the day? Is it my only Armour against the rest of the world. Do I doubt my own knowledge and intelligence to get me through a battle that may commence getting through a tube journey? Or holding my place in a queue?
I’m not sure. I do think my time working in pubs, whilst blonde, enhanced my ability and habit of being able to hide any smartness behind the bleach. Its not a folk tale but people really do allow you to make more mistakes and be a bit dozey when your of the fairer haired variety. Natural or not. Its as if they don’t expect as much. I also definitely got a lot more freebies when I was blonde. I sometimes think that, I even started to believe I was dithery and a bit stupid. So when I went brunette and didn’t even get the wolf whistles of Builders, and got barged when getting out of the tube doors, I really did have to start refilling my tanks of gumption. Start engaging the brain, being quicker with delivering my wit and being more savvy when it came to buying things. Ultimately I was saving on paying someone to destroy my hair monthly, but was that what was destroying my life. I didn’t land as many commercials. every time I was down to the last two and didnt get it, I would see the final product and there smiling driving the VW, or holding the Yogurt pot was a bright blonde with a smug smile.
So maybe I am not just so incredibly vain when it comes to a ‘simple’ superficial decision of changing my hair, when it so fundamentally changed last time I did something so drastic.
To everyone I ever ignored. I have only just been really learning about more of wordpress’s functions and sections (i’m so not technical). I just discovered I hadnt even seen comments people had made or msgs you had sent. I hold my hands up “I am a moron” I’m sorry for not responding. I will try my hardest to be more aware and more responsive!
Ok so I’m sure you can guess where this was born out of. I lost a whole load of files. Bits and pieces I had been slaving away on, notes I had taken the precious seconds to take down when I was struck by platinum dust ideas.
I know it’s a first world problem and then when I remind myself how fortunate I am, I remember that actually not using a paper and pen is saving the environment. However much change pains me (childishly) like the loss of cassette tapes which initially meant I rejected CDs and now being the perverse PITB that I am, I miss the CD! The floppy discs, Atari joysticks, especially books. I know they are all available but even with my prejudice even I can see the benefit of space, tidiness and access that tablets, phones and storage clouds provide. Urgh can’t believe I actually typed that! Traitor to myself! ( I think the split personalities are coming out today, wheel of death frustration calls them forth)
Anyway trying to come back on track, I think what not writing on paper really symbolizes or upsets me the most is the gradual loss of…of what’s the word! it’s not stability! not consistency…it has to do with trust! I think durability is what I mean. I feel the sense of making things(can openers, washing machines, stereos), owning things(countries, children, phones), being a part of things, careers and relationships is not seen as the real deal, not something to put all your eggs into. Is the next generation going to be too scared to make a real commitment?
Hmmm or on self reflection are they making a better existence and I’m just a fuddy duddy (is that ie instead of y?)(surely I should not be lazy and current and google it for myself).
I guess I am trying to work that out and what my take on it all is.
My fiance has become allergic to our puppy. The starting to clean himself and his change of fur has meant his saliva is ever more prevalent in our house and starting to affect Sean’s Marsupial glands. Breathing is becoming a struggle and the little scamps hairs are everywhere. I have the horrid feeling it will be one or the other time. I always knew I would love this little fella but I love him more than I thought possible. It is starting to become an incredibly depressing conclusion of having to give Buddy to a new family. For someone who has no intentions of having kids and a dog was going to fill that void I am starting to think on those women desperate to have a child but can’t. Last week I was feeling incredibly happy and was feeling so blessed that mine and Seans careers had been moving in positive directions. I have started a couple of new ventures which are giving me great positivity boosts, i finally have the dog ive always wanted, etc etc, all things good basically i made sure i was thankful and was grateful for all our blessings but for some reason something always has to come along to rain on your parade. I understand why Kurt Cobain felt safe in the sadness. It is nicer to have hope that it will get better than live in fear that it will be taken away.
I have wanted a dog for years. And seriously been wanting one for 13 years. On the 15th of July after years of deliberation and upset I finally got him. His name is Buddy. He is a Chorkie. We picked him up the day before we turned 8 weeks old.
He has literally turned our lives upside down. From being people who visited the gym together 5-6times a week. I have been once since we picked him up. I have not slept properly through and am obsessed with his toilet behavior! I had never planned on having kids, I guess because I was not where I had hoped I would be in my career and so didn’t see the possibility to have both. I knew having a dog, a puppy especially was going to be hard work but I must admit I never knew quite how much. I know some people would say we are devoting a lot of our time to him and we could possibly back off. I actually think that was one of the reasons i didn’t want kids as I knew if i was going to be a mum I was going to do it fully. Whether it is potty training, or in buddy’s case puppy pad training or teaching him the basics of sit, come here and so on we are making sure he has them nailed asap. Within the first week he had nailed, come here, sit, lie down a few times and on day 8 leave it. That may seem a bit excessive and forceful but if he is going to be my dog then he is going to be the nuts. Unfortunately right now, I think the terrier side is bearing its little nippers and he is going nuts for about half an hr each day. Fortunately he then tires himself out and sleeps for a couple of ours while I get some editing of Self Made done.
Anyways right now he is lay next to me completely KO’d from a manic run round the garden and I am waiting for footage to transcode. I am fortunate that at this point in my career I am working with a lot of people who know me and have been fortunate to take BUddy with me, and on the days at which I am fortunate to work from home he keeps me company, forcing me to take a break from getting square eyes by needing some chew time!
Anyone thinking of getting a dog please do think carefully! If you are not going to be at home for the first six months of his life to train him well and keep him focused do NOT get one. It is unfair to the little pup. You wouldn’t leave a baby would you? I really do think they should be considered in the same league.
Anyone who does have a puppy and is coming across problems the best tecaher we have found is Zak George. Look up his YOUTUBE videos. He is amazing and it all works!
MY biggest advice and thankful knowledge is get him loads and loads of toys. If you think 2 is enough think again. The more they have the less furniture or toes he will distract himself with. We now have about 10 so where ever we are in the house when he is about to eat fingers or toes we replace them with one of his toys. And really a variety is a good idea. He will go from his Kong soft toy to his raw hide, to his rope, to his rubber kong.
Anyways here’s me sounding like an old hat when really I am still learning every second with BUddy. I am glad I waited until now because if you want to be a good owner then you will have to sacrifice alot. Not for always but probably for a few months to make sure they grow into the kind of dog people would want to look after for you, or that you can take places without him being an embarrassment.
Despite the fact I’m looking incredibly pale and worn through, this picture makes me smile and remember filming in Alexandra Palace for the feature film Self Made. It was so nice to be able to use a skill I had learnt as a child. So my mothers money and 5am starts were not in vain. It brought back a lot of good and bad memories, as I had pretty much grown up in this gigantic fridge. From my first sprained ankle to my first kiss, the instant i smelt the distinct ice rink whiff it all came flooding back.
Fortunately I wasn’t too scarred by the memories and instead was inspired to take skating back up as a hobby. Its pretty amazing to come back to it as an adult. I no longer hang off the side too embarrassed to attempt moves for fear of being laughed at by the girls who bullied me, nor am I bored of it due to going 9 times a week and being chased the length of the rink by an angry Scottish woman, my coach not just a random. Now, I am happy to attempt jumps with a new found ability to push myself. I think the weight training has definitely increased my ability to jump higher and be able to attack moves more powerfully. My desire to not waste anymore of my life has also meant hardly any time is wasted not moving. Making every second count.
Ok so where is the line? I always thought it was half an arm rest width, but I guess with obesity increasing and butts invading the lower cavity of neighbouring seats are we starting to blur the line. I was sat on a Piccadilly line train minding my own beeswax trying to use the time productively on our latest script, a romcom if you were interested. Now am I the one being out of order by taking my personal work onto a public transportation system? I would have thought not, as surely everyone should be in their own ever increasing expensive 1ft x 1ft ( if your lucky) space to enjoy or dread their journey to wherever as they wish. I would like to be able to get on we my journey without the ever lurking eyes of Mr Black, a very tall lean Japanese man in skinny pleated trousers that still don’t even touch his legs, so he definitely doesn’t lift bro. Or at least does miss a heck of a lot of legs days.
Should I, instead of boiling internally and formulating all manner of one liners veering from aggressive to witty to down right rude, turn to him and ask his opinion? So far in similar occasions I have just allowed this Invision of privacy to let my creative train wait in the tunnel, possibly never to poke its head out the other end. I don’t know how many files have a paragraph or (cough) one line as their sorry little existence due to nosy neighbours, who selfishly didn’t bring an attention keeping device with them.
I am currently sat on a central line train. No arms rests whatsoever! Did the central line start this blurring of personal space? Whoever it was or whatever led to this, is there a way back? A route that takes us back to people respecting one another’s personal space? Or am I the one in the wrong taking my expectations of personal space out of my living quarters. I have been feeling guilty the last paragraph as sometimes I am that person woofing down a cold wrap or a protein bar, or slurping on my sickly sweet smelling protein shake. So is someone out there thinking that I am invading their personal senses space? Am I the arrogant prick who is selfishly making dieters hungry by eating in a public domain? Or am I still on the edge of a respectful person because it’s not offensive smells like fried chicken, cigarettes or mc Donald’s? Is my fastfood(can you even call mcdonalds that, last time I went I waited 15mins for mine to be ready, and I wasn’t even ordering like an LAite) my sentence to actually being the thing that ruins my day?
My biggest fear, being a ducking hypocrite. It’s what I dumped ex-boyfriends for. It also means that I can’t continue to write my ramblings as maybe I am what I hate. And that is sad that I have not been able
“to be the change you wish to see in the world”
Maybe it’s not to late to make that change. I might just ask that gentleman that is unfortunate enough to sit next to me next, to take my spare note pad and give me some notes. That’ll learn him.