Well! Didn’t that take a blooming long time? And looking back over the year clearly I have had very little to say. Wow. Nearly a post a month. You can see the eloquence drip from my fingers.
Hey kiddywinks! Miss me? I missed you.
So the first year of Performance BA has ended. One year. Gone. Done. Kaput.
And in just under a week I will be twenty. Big Two-oh. Double Decade.
I’VE WASTED MY LIFE! I’M OLD! I MEAN, I KNOW MY HAIRS GOING WHITE BUT THAT’S JUST BECAUSE I’M WEIRD.
So what have I done with my few weeks off? Slept and read mostly. Like you do. Basically going through a relaxing quarantine slash hermitage slash detox fortnight. It’s a lovely way of living. Go to bed at five in the morning and get up at five in the afternoon. Do a little writing if I’m in the mood which I rarely am.
I guess it’s my body’s way of saying “Look, I got you through the year without a cold or flu. Hell, I didn’t even break down around the funeral. You fricking owe me so get some sleep and stop watching Youtube videos and West Wing DVDs.”
Speaking of, my sister says she feels incredibly educated about fictional politics.
Bex: NASA has been in a lot of trouble what with the whole “photoshopping of space”. It’s as embarrassing as when they lost Galileo 5.
Tej: West Wing.
Bex: President has MS?
Tej: West Wing.
Bex: Senior government official slept with Doctor Cuddy?
Tej: West Wing
Bex: Nuclear weapon went off in downtown LA and no one seemed to care?
That was hypothetical. My sister is much smarter than that (and doesn't watch 24). She spent five minutes reading interesting articles from the New Scientist to me yesterday.
From what I remember there are tiny millipedes and a “camp looking” pink animal. (It’s early! All I remember is that there is a bright pink creature somewhere out there in the world and the NS called it camp).
It was funny when I went to her birthday do. All her friends were like “I see where she gets the sense of humour. It makes her cool. I bet you’re cool!” I have to admit I’m tepid. (and incredibly self-deprecating. Because that’s what you love in a blog. Pot-shots at the writer!)
Now what else should I talk about? What else COULD I talk about?
Oh goodness, this is hard. Really I am an awful blogger because I think “Oh. No one will be interested in what I have to say!” No Jancis. They never are. Yet you still keep talking away. (POTSHOTS!)
You know the Chichester thing I’m not allowed to talk about? Yeah. I did it again but have burnt more personal bridges for bigger acclaim. Which is what you’re supposed to do in this business. Who needs friends when you can show off?
But what would I be like in five years if I keep living that way?
Look, I’ll show you!
(for funsies, imagine Charlie Brooker reading this to you)
My name is Author and I am a self centred writer.
I have quite the crippling smoking habit/drinking habit/drug problem/lack of social skills.
I am content in my own little world.
Why look it is Little Mary Sunshine to bring me out of my self-inflicted solitude.
Leave me alone LMS! I want not for your bubbly smile and klepto ways.
No! I cannot take time out of my busy schedule to go on a roadtrip to save the penguins!
I am too busy being moody and masturbating.
What is this?
Can it be that I am falling in love with this strange creature so unlike me?
Am I smiling as we make faces at policemen and wear funny hats?
Is it that she is making me a better person by letting me access my inner innocence?
I feel that I confess my love to her?
Why was that a question?
Oh Little Mary Sunshine I have something I need to tell you.
Oh by all means, tell me what you need to tell me first.
You have cancer and have only a week to live?
WELL! *BLEEP* YOU FOR GETTING MY HOPES UP!
*BLEEP* YOU, YOU *BLEEP*ING MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL WITH YOUR STUPID HAIRCUT AND STUPID LOVE OF CRAPPY INDIE MUSIC THAT NO ONE GIVES A *BLEEP* ABOUT.
WHO THE *BLEEP* DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
*BLEEP*ING MAUDE FROM “HAROLD AND MAUDE”?
YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE ME A BETTER PERSON?
WELL YOU CAN’T!
I AM A HORRIBLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING AND I HOPE YOU DIE….I KNOW YOU HAVE *BLEEP*ING CANCER! DIE HARDER!
WHAT THE *BLEEP* AM I GOING TO DO WITH A *BLEEP*ING DIAMOND RING?
NO, I DON’T KNOW WHERE I GOT A RING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ARCTIC!
I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SHOUT AT YOU UNTIL YOU STOP CRYING!
GOD! YOU ARE SO BLOODY QUIRKLY ANNOYING!
Oh LMS, I didn’t mean it. Let us hold each other as the sun sets and the credits roll. We’re both going to die out here of the frozen tundra.
I bet you taste like chicken!
And now you know why I’ll never write a romantic comedy.
But at least I’m not that bad YET! Hurrah! The more people who know I am a horrible person the…better? No. No. AH!
The more people who know I am a horrible person the less people are going to invite me to their cheese and wine parties!
FOR I HATE WINE!!!1!
But really, it’s my sense of fairplay do that means I don’t write the scandalous stuff which then gives me posts like this behemoth of a monster as I have nothing else to write.
I died (Note: The Pregnant Guys are the people I’m getting a house with in just over a month…interesting sentence).
The cool thing about living in the city now everyone is gone is I can get all the jobs that no one else is around for. I’m even in a street theatre piece so my star is on the rise.
You know what?
Screw it. It’s half two in the morning. I should get some sleep. I’m calling it quits. Done. Running gag.
I might write something with a plan or a reason. Maybe.
Not quite the big five-oh you might want. But tough!
I’m old now. Leave me alone.
4 years ago