IT'S ALIVE!!!

Jesus Christ but those robots REALLY never give up. Took me almost a year to make sure I could escape.
There was a hairy patch couple of months back but my daughter from the future managed to tackle them . Cheers HunBun, love you!
Hello blogasphere.
Ya miss me? I missed you.
Now, what shall we talk about?
Friday, I wrote in my journal for the first time since March. I wrote an entry tonight and then went ‘Didn’t I have a more open way of telling people about things?’
I did and so after almost a year fleeing for my life, I am back. Be honest. Some of you MUST have thought I was dead. No, still kicking!...Well, I was dead for a few weeks but they rebooted the timeline which was nice of them. Though supposedly I have a sister now?
So what has changed since last year?
• I’m 21 now. Legal to drink in various countries now. On my actual day? Went to the hospital to see my Grandfather who taken ill earlier that day. My party? A gay man touched my no-no place.
So THAT happened!
• My NaNo novel was ‘Yeddeoni’ the simple tale of a man who could see ghosts, his partner and the ghost who just wanted him to kill himself so she could have a friend. So my usual upbeat stuff. Maybe I’ll get it up one of these days.
o There was also a plotpoint about a man being wiped out of history by forces unknown. Yes, Moffat managed to steal my unpublished, very common idea. I will SUE!!!1
• I have a 2.1 for my second year which included me being naked on stage.
• I am currently writing a play for the Second Years at my Uni. It is called ‘Hayah’ and concerns angels and other winged beings. A little bit of Joan of Arc, some Judas and the fact there are no seats should add up to crazy times at Solent Uni!
• Recently I awoke to strangers in my home. ‘Don’t worry,’ says they ‘we have the keys from the landlord.’ Turns out they are hired to paint the outside of my house. They have kept waking me and just dumping stuff. At the time of writing, I have about two days left here. Can’t be over soon enough.
• I am going to the Fringe to perform street theatre as a butler. So do say if you’re around the last week of the Fringe so I may come and service you. (Hope that no one sniggered there. For shame, for shame).

I think that will do for now. I am REALLY going to try and keep this more up-to-date now.

Belated 50

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.

Anyway.

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.

HypotheticalMoment
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?
Tej: 24

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!

STOPPING CRYING!
STOP IT!
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.

What else?!
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.
Stupid kids.

Jancis Deals With Grief in His Inevitable Style

So I’ve been trying to write something here. But the words aren’t coming.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired.
Maybe it’s because I have a lot of bottled up feelings.
Who knows?
So I’m not going to try and be smart or ordered. This is going to be a bit of a flowing post. Excuse the strange grammar and logical leaps.

Just get it onto virtual paper.

Suffice to say, one week ago I found out that my Grannie had died in her sleep. She was 83. My mother come to see her and found her in her bed.
The plan was from her to come see my halls on the Tuesday.

Now the weird thing is how “okay” I am. No. Not OKAY. That’s stupid. My Grandmother is gone.

But I know she wouldn’t want me to stop doing what I’m doing or to have a breakdown.

New Years 2000, she almost died of pneumonia. So I feel that I have had an extra nine years.
On Boxing Day I thought ‘We got through Christmas with all grandparents. Let’s see what the new year brings us.’
I talked to her a few weeks ago. She seemed fine. I got to say I loved her.
There was no way any of us could have ‘got there earlier’ or ‘saved her’.
She went to bed on Friday and didn’t get up in the morning. She died in her own home in her own bed. I feel that’s best.

I am not a huge fan of the clichéd emotions. Of course I’m hurting. I’ve lost the only person beside my mother to understand me during my dark hours. And I mean lost. I would love to think she’s watching over me. But I can’t.

Last year, I said goodbye to my mother. I said I didn’t know what would happen to me when I went to Uni. I could burn to death in a house fire, fall down some stairs, get mugged. And if a double decker bus crashes into us? You get the point. Anyway, I said ‘I will say goodbye and I love you now. Then you know we’re good. No ‘If only I had rung earlier’. Know I love you. And visa versa.’ So we’ve said our goodbyes. It’s wrong and macabre but I did it all the same.

I guess it’s the snap nature of it really. One day I have a Grannie. The next, not so much.
I haven’t had to go to the house or have to deal with the moving of papers or anything.
It’s surreal and slightly unconnected.

But everyone’s going ‘You okay?’ And I have to go ‘Yeah, weirdly. Live my life. Be glad she saw me start to do something I love. Be glad I had the extra time with her.’

What else can I say?
I am going to miss her and I’m glad I knew her.
Sorry this seems slightly weird. It’s just too big a thing to leave unblogged.

Avoiding Writing with Writing.

Okay guys. I’m hiding out of this blog to get away from the ‘work’.
See, my Body teacher (yes, I have a body teacher. Yes, I dance. Yes, I seem to go through it with a sardonic grin and the knowledge I’ll never be a dancer.) Anyway, she cancelled the lesson on Tuesday. So I go ‘Four day weekend? AWESOME! I’ll edit my book.’
*headbutts wall*
I knew it would be a long and boring process. But MAN!
I have to correct my spelling. And fix the plotholes. And make it make sense. And I need to get a form off the IRS if I use the publishing company that I’m only using because the NaNoWriMo people gave me a coupon code to get a free copy of the book. And. And. AND!
That said, I have a 'missing chapter' that I cut for being too silly.

So I’m hiding out of this blog. And listening to REM on YouTube for some bizarre reason (‘Nightswimming’ if you care.)

In less scary news Tess and I (You all remember Tess?) have created a series of videos called EPIC LISTS. Go watch what I do in my free time when not rewriting my classic!

I don’t mean to shock or amaze you but it snowed. That was exciting. I got into the paper. (Tess is the pink hated one and my friend Craig is the guy kneeling in front of the purple scarf.) I remember days of my youth going out to throw stones on the frozen lake in the grounds of the school. There I was thinking such things were long gone.
Tess, the Swiss Miss that she is, mocks our lack of preparation for the snow. I tried to say this was a fallacy. It’s like India mocking Holland for not being ready for flooding. You can’t apply the fact that the Swiss have a lot of snow and then say ‘they know how to deal with it. So should you!’ Whatever. I’m just glad my grandparents haven’t slipped over yet.

So that’s what’s happening with me.

A new blog (Because my ego was definitely not big enough).

As you see, there is a new blog up and once again it’s about me.
See, I feel that I want to expose my awesomeness to all and sundry so I came up with an idea.
All the stupid things I write get neatly popped up on the new blog wittily entitled Stories of Jancis.
A wonderful chance to show that all that time not dancing and drinking has not gone to waste.

But isn’t this incredibly masturbatory? Waving my believed talent in the face of those who have the misfortune to call me a friend?

Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: Yes, yes it is.
Blasphemous Answer: Goddamn it is!
Old-Timer Answer: You bet your sweet bippy it is.

So that’s the plan.
One thing I intend to stick to is not to put up the ‘present’ stories unless asked to. Those are private things that I want people in the future to have the honour of owning for themselves.
And I sign the buggers. Maybe that will be worth something.
And if not, well then I hope that person, as they move halls or into a new part of their life, come across my story and smile on the nice times we had together.
Until I banged their sister.
And then wrote her a story about what I wanted to do to her while banging her.

But how many times will THAT happen?

A Year Of Jancis (2008)

So I don’t have anyway where to be this New Years Day what with everyone being scattered hither and generally thither. (and my general shrinking violetness)

So my year based on blog posts.

How I got off the Black List.
Wow. It feels just like yesterday I was making jokes about being blacklisted. Wow. I was so young back then. Back when I was worried about university places and the Fitcher Files. (I did say I'll finish Sam's story. New Year Resolution? Well, I HAVE said more writing. Oh what the hell. Sure. You heard it here, folks.)

Update with Guest Star Faith Lehane
Oh Faith. Sweet, sweet sweary Faith. Starting the trend of having random people live in my brain.
It was a lesson that making jokes will get American girls squat in your brain.
Anything?
I said "squat"!
Anything?
I miss her. Pam never talks to me.

I kept my promise. She was "the attractive dark haired girl with the leather jacket in the third case". Then I killed her. Sort of.

So I still awake in the night and think of that Chaos theory. Have I screwed myself with my choice? Will the Pope ever give me that knighthood?
Time shall tell.

Jancis becomes Lower Lower Lower Upper Middleclass
Stage '65 and Buffy Between the Lines. Two of the bigger things that happened to me. Yet I do not get the "booze and boobs" a star of my standing should. I played a pig AND a thug. Where's the love?

"not procrastinating. I also was fully dressed and had washed that morning. Yep. Clean me."
So glad things have changed in a year. (That's a lie. I do get dressed a lot more then I did on my Gap Year. I even wash EVEN I don't need it. Great guy.)

Mum tells me the house is falling down. Rocks everywhere.
That was the March storms knocking off roof tiles. Really not exciting as I made it out to be in ten words.


My lack of planning is, in itself, a plan. Just not a very good one.
"I took this year so I could write and I found out that the major problem is I have a very short att"
My Gap Year summed up in a single sen

"funnily enough have creatures to eat your kidneys”
I was joking. They ate liver and BBTL only have one demon. Her name was Kep and she was blue. (I didn't actually do anything. She was just visiting. We had scones. It was pleasant.)

"what with the sitting on the floor for hours on end as you have to hear “Food, Glorious Food” for the sixth time."
Really not a highlight (and the story I keep using when they ask 'Why you sing so bad?') Funnily enough that sitting and listening now means I'm doing "Reviewing the Situation" as my exam piece. Swings and roundabouts, I guess.

"Sand through my fingers. Sand through my fingers."
This has become my non-official moto over the year. I feel so old.

"my sister gave my the 24 hour flu which knocked me out on that day."
STILL pissed about that. Stupid sister.

WHY IS THIS NEWS!?
NO! REALLY! WHY WAS THIS NEWS?

"Why a fur seal would indulge in such extreme sexual behaviour is unclear"
Which I feel sums this up perfectly.
I'm imagining scientists in their labcoats stroking their chins and going "It shouldn't be doing that."

"penguins sometimes "prostitute" themselves to get stones for nest-building"
*looks at Sarah, eyebrow raised*

My Birthday
"I haven't had this yet. But when I do OH WHAT A POST THERE SHALL BE."
Okay. So I lied. There was no post.
What I remember my birthday was nice. I had a Doctor Who cake. My sister wore a blanket all day like a lost soul.
I took the picture Kiki did to rehearsal. Bemused reactions all round. But I liked them.
And I didn't die on my birthday so that's always a plus.

Consider Yourself a clichéd pun that I refuse to make.
So Oliver. That was something that happened last year. Sure was. Taught me stage combat and that there are worse things then losing a toenail to a dropped book. (Mostly crushed balls and cracked legs)

"maybe I’ll post pictures of the atrophying flesh that is my legs"
I made a gentleman's promise to the director never to show those photos. Suffice to say, not nice.

I Am Reviewing The play/the last year/the chance to make bad Oliver! puns.
I gave a photo of me in the play as a gift to my grandparents for Christmas. They think I look sweet. I'm not sweet! I'm...Oh who am I kidding?

"The sooner I do this, the sooner I can get around to killing you"
And so I went about killing my sexy headghost.

"PS. Girlfriend of the future: I love you. Please don’t get your head cut off."
The first of many notes to GOTF.

"Thomas is once again stealing plots from books to make his life more interesting. Points to anyone who can name the two books"
This still stands by the way. (If you get enough points, you get a toaster.)

In July, clearly nothing happened as there was no blog posts. Jancis is too lazy to cast his mind back that far. That is why his year is based on this blog.
Circular logic. Have to love it.

Half Hearted Post
So after the unexplained absence I got down to the important things.
1. The death and rebirth of Faith as an official part of my fictional world. This one is for you, you insane headghost. (Me? Unhinged? Noooooo.)
2. New laptop (writing this on it now)
3. Playing Command and Conquer (Oh Cameron. You had NO idea what you were saying, did you?)
4. Going to the workshop.
"Will it be worth it?"
Meh.

"Will I have to take my trousers off?"
Not really. (Not for the want of trying.)

The Slander Free Blog Post
Still remaining slander free. Had some good times. Learnt life lesson. All good.
Interesting thing here. SOMEONE GAVE ME HEADLICE!
Had to cut my hair after I got headlice from someone in the audience. Who I am not sure. But headlice I got!

Here I would call the "Gap Year" period ended. So now we enter the Solent Years.

The first Uni post
So this was me alone in halls.

"There is some….thing in the halls that’s playing music. BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT!?"
Still don't know and it is best not to ask.

Me sitting up late looking at my laptop writing? Had to get used to that lovely feeling.


T' traditional “TLAP” Day blog post (run through a pirate translator because I be too lazy t' do it meself).
Again I lie and made up most of the translating as the official translator only changed little things like "you" to "ya". So in the end I probably did more work. Oh well.

"I intend to sit in the kitchen and glare at them"
They ignored me.

The "I have joined a cult" post. (Who had the bet for three weeks?)
"Ah yes, the joys of a reclusive non-drinking non-smoker"
It's still a case of no one ever tells me where the parties are. That said, have gone to a few nightclubs. (You know, I still haven't gone to Legends after all the hoo-ha about it at school. Clearly I miss out.)

"Friend: Oh that is so fucking interesting, you pussy"
That was Tess of "JanFan" fame. She keeps calling me a paedophile in front of people. Interesting girl. Swiss you know? Likes ketchup.

"I did stand over you with a butcher’s knife for four hours while you were crashed out on the couch."
"No. No. ____. It's a joke. Honey! It's a joke. I wrote something on my blog when I was nineteen. Sweetie. No. No don't phone the police! It was a joke!"

"I was told I needed to write “three pages” everyday"
That worked until November when I just gave up. I was busy enough already without pointless note taking.
It was mostly: “Sky dark. Am tired. Need to do more work.” Then waffle for a two and a half pages.

"Pallas Athena/Minerva"
People who don't read this blog never understand the joke. Honestly those who do read don't really. What's wrong with numerous imaginary muses? (Opposed to the many real muses who sadly always seem to be thirteen year old girls yearned after by French artists).

This is a test of the "Jancis = AWESOME!" alert,
Because you need an alarm to tell you the obvious.

Anyone notice it's cold?
I grew quite attached to that bench by the door. It got removed for some reason. Sad. I could watch the smokers stand in the non-smoking zone. FLAUNT THAT SIGN!

"So we have to do a performance based on us from year Dot to Twenty"
*gently bangs head against wall, while crying* Did you know actors could be difficult? That’s all I shall say.

"You do not want to see my shins"
Leg damage and headghosts seem to take up most of '08

New from Jancis' Insane Mind
I WILL write a more in-depth post on the blog when I finish the editing. Stupid work was getting in the way.
But from the unedited copy my Mum has this to say, "It needs work but there are some very good parts."
Thanks Mum.

Second firing of the "Jancis = AWESOME!" alert,
Oh spoilers for unaired episodes. How no one cares!

A big day for me.
True story.
Amazing what happens when you need to go piss.

What is my 20000th word?
Kind of went a bit insane and just threw in random people when I needed cannon fodder. But what's the fun of knowing an author if NOT to have things like that happen?
(Sarah. Mark. I might have to cut your chapter. Do you know the term Crack!fic? Well, I have penguin robbers. I will put up the chapter if I do drop it.)

Spring Awakening: The Tale of the Philosophising Teenage Rapist and His Suicidal Gay Friend
"I don’t even know everyone in my First Year group"
Still don't! (Stupid thin, dark haired girls and the similar bone structures!)

WEEEE WAAAAAA WEEEE WAAAAAA
People still seem amazed that I have done the podcast. And I smartly tell them "I did set off an alarm".

Just thought you'd like to know:
Probally the thing I am proudest of in 2008. I did in a month what I failed to do in over a year.
WEEEE WAAAAAA WEEEE WAAAAAA
Sing out "Jancis=Awesome" alarm. Sing out.

The December Ramble
My readers STILL haven't got back to me. HA! See them get a mention in the "Thanks" pages now!

"rewriting it over the holidays in between writing essays"
So young. So not understanding the drain that is an essay.

“please take me in a manly yet sensitive manner.”
And that’s how I met your mother"
And they say romance is dead.
(I am probably going to have a very boring marriage and have it ruined by all of you saying "He threatened to stand over you with a knife. Did you know that? Yes. Slap him harder!")

What is that strange whining noise?
Got to show off even more! Brilliant. I really did put a bag on my head. Method acting all the way!

For Mama Sal
Because I will go that extra mile for the JanFans.




A Year Of Jancis (2008)
Taste that Meta!
Christmas was quiet. Saw both sets of grandparents, which was nice. Got some books and DVDS to keep me going. (Also got "Professor Layton" so the DS is coming back to Soton)
Worked on essays and let my Mum and sister read my book. They liked it.
That said; do NOT say the albino has black hair. Even if you mistyped you will never hear the end of it.

Resolution? More writing. Get fitter. Normal boring stuff.

And that was my year.
So.
How was yours?

The December Ramble

So I have a week to sum up. Funarific.

In strange news, my friend Tess randomly said when we walking along a few days ago “People who like you are called JanFans. Where did that come from?” I blinked and talked about JanManFan all the while thinking “You read my blog?”
I wish people would tell me these things. It gets me all a fluster. What if I was saying what colour my underwear was? That’s information you could bring me down with. Ruin my chances of getting into politics.
Of course, that’s the risk of blogs. ANYONE can read them. Did you know that? Now you do.
Next blog I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t lick cats. Look forward to THAT!
Anyway, people are catching onto calling me Jancis. HURRAH! Although I have to say “Don’t try it. You can never say it.” One git a while back was like “Then I’ll call you Dave” I said “No. You really won’t” and glared. He was drunk as if that will make things better. (Still a tool though.)

In exciting news, I have finished my novel.
Yes, JanFans 57,140 words of…words. I have given it to three friends who are at the moment browsing it when they feel like. They say they enjoyed the first chapter then needed to stare at the wall. Freaking readers.
So that’s going to be fun. Rewriting it over the holidays in between writing essays.

That’s the awful thing. Now I’m done, I don’t have anything to keep me going. Used to be I could have a shite day but I say “I shall have to take my anger out on my characters.”
Because I don’t have a wife to beat.
(That speck? Oh that’s the line. Went over that five years ago and never looked back).
People have said, “Why don’t you just write another book?” I glare at them and point out that I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a month AND I’m breaking up for the holidays in a week. I have enough work as it is as the moment. And I’m not eating properly. And I have to get up in the morning. Why don’t THEY write a book? They will?…Can I read it when it’s done?

Anyway, it’s a great thing to drop in conversation.
“I have a four thousand word essay for a week!
“Hmm. Yeah. Ah. Did I mention I wrote a novel in a month?”
“No, you didn’t. But now I know, please take me in a manly yet sensitive manner.”
And that’s how I met your mother, son.

Did you know we have to write journals on our physical lessons then part of our mark is peer review based on what everyone else put? Did you know that? What about that? I’m just glad I haven’t made anyone cry yet. (Give me time. I am an arsehole.)

So today, I got to show my seminar that I worked on for so long on. Sadly, the computers hate us and it ended up with us having to show the videos and not the slides. Sad. My college and I started to sink into depression. Long talk about sucikness of world over Burger King. Got up the balls to ask scary, shaveheaded Northern Comedy teacher how we did. He looks at us and nods “Very good.” DAY MADE! Sun shining. Birds singing. Everyone in the room 1.6% sexier.

It’s all a case of staying upbeat I guess.

This is rambling I know.
But I’m tired.
So sue me.
Please don’t sue me. I have no money.
I have to write stories for Christmas presents. (To give, as gifts but wouldn’t that be a great system? “I want a Wii!” “Write me the tale of a young woman finding love in a strange location. You must include an Irish pirate and the phrase “popsqualouck.”)

So until next time JanFans!

Anyone notice it's cold?

What's up with that?

Anyway, we are entering the end of the third week of term. But we don't care about that do we?
No, Jancis
Too right we don't.
What we DO care about is the fact I've been here for a month. A whole month without wireless. (Until this moment when I'm sitting on a bench in one of the lecture buildings).
Everyone tell how me how amazing me I am for learning things.
You're amazing Jancis
Okay, I'm surely insane. And very egotistical. And handsome if I may say so.

So we have to do a performance based on us from year Dot to Twenty. So that means I've had a week of "I'm a baby. See how I do not know how to walk. Or talk. I am simply a big lump of lumpy meat."
You do not want to see my shins.
Really, if I have to be a tree then I'm...hiding in the cupboard until I don't have to be a tree anymore. (People gave me werid looks when I laughed at that last thought).

So term has began well. Of course everyone feels mistreated and unloved. But is that not part of becoming a grownup?

So with this quick blog, writing in four layers of clothes and sitting near an automatic door, I wish you a good day.

Good day.

The "I have joined a cult" post. (Who had the bet for three weeks?)

So this is my “last two weeks” blog to ensure I do not fall on to the “LIST OF DOOOOOOM”.

What has happened to me in the last couple of weeks? I am in the process of starting my Uni life. Ah yes, the joys of a reclusive non-drinking non-smoker. I am truly living the highlife.
That said, I do enjoy going to bars and nightclubs and just watching people. At the Freshers ball I watched a man walk into a door and apologize very politely. The following is a dramatization of the moments as I and my friend leave the party (This is a girl who I just appeared next to at the Welcome BBQ. She seems to have soured on my craziness though as you will get from her reaction. Such is me.)
Me: I just saw a drunk guy apologize to a door.
Friend: Oh that is so fucking interesting, you pussy.
Me:….MY GIRLFRIEND WAS DECAPITED IN A CARCRASH!!!
Other Guy: Is that true?
Me:…YES!
OG: That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.
My brain: Score!

A Note to Jancis' Future Girlfriend(s)
Hey there future honeybunny. Firstly, thanks for checking my blog to see what sort of guy I am. I can assure you that the whole Faith thing is way behind me. I don’t even return her calls. Second, you maybe worried that I spend a lot of time threatening to kill off previous paramours. I just want you to calm down. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you while you were drunk after the party. You know which one. You wore the black thing. Funny story, I did stand over you with a butcher’s knife for four hours while you were crashed out on the couch. Bet you’re glad you didn’t wake up, eh?
Hugs and kisses
TJ

Lessons haven’t really started yet. I have been set work to write and learn a monologue. Yes, it’s full of my usual love of life and belief in mankind. Simply it is the monologue from a play I will never write. So expect a mention of it in some of my other work. I am nothing if not a plagiarist. (Note to journalists of the future looking for a quote to use for a story on me and using that quote: I stick my penis inside your wife AND your mother.)

So today I started my brand spanking new regime. With added spanking. You know when you get a hankering for a spankering you slams hand in drawer . Okay I’m back. So when we were given our reading list it had an entry for “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. After tricking me with not only having a book but a textbook I was told I needed to write “three pages” everyday. But three pages of what? Well, anything I liked but it needs to be free hand and as soon as I wake up. Supposedly it would inspire me to be a better artist. Though the examples they gave were lawyers remembering they love the dance and so become ballet dancers. Maybe doing this would insure I never fall off my chosen path. Thanks book. You’ve made me a better me!
That said it does say I have to basically thank God for my talent and make sure to pray.
Uh.
No.

Of course, the book says, it doesn’t HAVE to be God. No, just some overruling being that controls and moulds me into a better person.
With that in mind I am now a follower of Pallas Athena/Minerva. I call her Pam.
I’m now sad as I imagine a dusty goddess awaking in a cave somewhere in Greece thinking that she is once again loved and needed. Well come to me, oh Athena. I shall keep you with me. We can have a sitcom full of misunderstandings and you setting your owl upon noisy drinkers who wake you up. (Please post any ideas for a title or plotlines of my magnus.)

Speaking of my new patron here she is. The second part of the “Artist’s Way” was once a week I had to go on an “Artist’s Date”. The way she describes it is that my artist is like a moody lover so take her to an art museum or clothing shop. Then she will love you again and you can have a good week! (For more on treating your muse as a lover: see Simon & Garfunkel’s “Cecilia”. )
Anyway Pam and I went on a walk and decided to visit the Southampton Art Gallery. There they had a collection of Burne-Jones’ portraits of Perseus. So I spent some time remembering my love of the Greek myths and why I got involved in this stupid game of acting/writing anyway. (It’s for the money and the woman)
This was my favourite picture because it made me go “Hmm. Medusa. Oh yes. I have a short story collection I was supposed to finish.” In an ideal world, every story would have a picture that was a redoing of a famous piece. If only I had an artist as a friend. Oh Kieran why did you have to go so cold on me? What of our love? Our love for ART? (Seriously, call me. I miss you.) [Yes we are aware how gay it all seems. You don’t need to tell us. K THX BYE]
(PS. When seen on canvas, the picture doesn’t look as if someone has scribbled notes on it. The writing is less….extreme when five foot tall.)
Afterwards I had a rice lunch and looked in the local library then wandered the streets like the homeless man I will be in a few years. So basically it has been a nice day. One I will never have the like of again once they make us do things. Oh well.

I’m not sure if Mrs Cameron would be happy that I have taken her way of finding inner piece as an excuse to have yet another woman haunt my sleep. Because the best women are the ones who sit at the end of your bed and tell you you’re going to die cold and alone with 19 imaginary cats and drawers full of three pages of your pointless life.

(Oh lord. I know this is all going to come back to bite me if I ever have a drug problem “I’m not depressed!” “Well, your blog says you’re haunted by a Greek goddess.” “Who isn’t?”)

That’s the thing with the morning pages. It says to write whatever we feel or want to say, never mind how disjointed the thought. I’m like “Hellllo! Have you ever met me? I don’t do disjointed!”

Speaking of the Panama Cannel, they finally fixed the TV so I can watch Heroes. How sad it is to watch people getting excited over it and you know that people are hating it over the pond. That said, look out for the answer to whether dear ol’ Sylar is a zombie or not.
Oh Sylar. Large Eyebrow Crew, Rep-re-sent!
Of course channels 1-5 run 66, 68, 67, 69, 65. Stupid dyscalculiac television. Just joking. You mean I get to watch House when it comes back. For that I still like you. But only as a friend.

On that bizarre note I’m calling this a blog post.
You are a blog post.

Goodbye!

T' traditional “TLAP” Day blog post (run through a pirate translator because I be too lazy t' do it meself).

Oh for goodness sake. Why was I not informed today was “Talk Like A Pirate” Day. All that sittin' around havin' t' be told “Hey, counsellin'. It’s a good thin'” and I could have been threatenin' people with a cutlass. Got t' Councillor though. She was sayin' “Anythin' you say will be completely confident” so I said “What if I claimed t' be wanting to dance the hangman’s jig?” Why, then they can have me taken away in irons without me say so. Stupid lyin' councillors. They be triksy landlubbers.
Strangely enough t' two thin's they could report be “Doin' harm t' meself or others” and “Terrorism”. Who confesses t' terrorism t' t' University Councillor? They be not priests! She seemed so sad that I was sayin' “If I’m plannin' t' top meself, I’m not comin' t' you, you big old blabbermouth.”
That all said, once again I got free grub. Which is something. Really should have brought some vitals back for tonight. Have to avoid cooking food for as long as I can.

Tomorrow, people begin to move in. I intend to sit in the kitchen and glare at them. Also when they go for the fridge go “AH!” and then shake my head.
I have to make my own fun.

The first Uni post

So here I am. In halls. Writing at a table. I know, table eh. Pretty swish.

I don’t really have anything to say due to the fact that there only appears to be me and the staff in halls. Oh that’s not true. There is some….thing in the halls that’s playing music. BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT!? (Answers that this may be another student shall be ignored.)

They haven’t set the televison signal up yet so I have a useless box. Not even working in the common room. I’m going to miss….well nothing’s on. And I don’t know if the halls get Sky. Oh well.

Other students move in on Saturday which means I have two full days of disability training to look forward to.

On Friday, Special Guest Speaker…THE LIBRARY LOANS SUPERVISOR! Whooooo!

As well as a fun talk on “Helping you to help yourself”.

Please say this experience is going to get fun at some point. No, really. I love not being able to use Skype and having to download podcast by hand. Yes literal hand. I have to go to the podcasters and say “Please might I have your podcasts?” And they say “You wantsz poddycasts”. So I run away crying like a girl.

True story!

So yeah. Nothing is happening.

Yeah.

So.

Good Lord I can’t stop.

Anyway, I shall write when something happens.

The Slander Free Blog Post

The week at Chichester went well and the performance was well received.

Okay, see you next time.

Half Hearted Post

Right! Lets make this bitch my bitch.

What’s happened over the last month?
I finished the Fitcher File and I stopped being haunted by Faith.

See. No snarky comments!
I’ll show you!

Tiny penis!

There you are! Nothing. Oh the quiet. I did promise not to kill her and I didn’t. Hell she’s a recurring character possibly maybe!
Okay she’s just there to racchet up the angst and be a deus ex machina later on. What do I mean by that. Let me explain it to you in a way you’d understand.
I know. Sam freed her from a bear trap then when he fights El Gigante she’ll leap on its back and distract the monster!
I know that was a joke. But I am SO going to write that! There you go! A sneak peak into a future file!
What did happen to the dog anyway? I hope it was alright.

Moving on I’m writing this on a brand new laptop. It’s big and new and powerful. When I asked the guy in the shop if I could play games he said “Oh no. You’ll need an add on and that will cost money.” Now I can walk back and say “See! See how Sawyer out of Lost tells me to destroy. And how Cameron out of House doesn’t seem to know what she’s saying!” Then I would nod my head and flounce off. In a totally manly macho way though!

Thanks to the new laptop we’ve finally sorted out wireless internet which allows me to proctrasnate anywhere in the house. Oh the freedom, the wireless freedom.
This has also allowed me to finally get my Wii online and show Germans how I can make Snake kick REALLLLY high. And then he goes WHHHOSH and flies and everything and AWESOME!
Just be glad they don’t do voice chat. I don’t want to call people fags. I really don’t!

While writing this the Opening Ceremony is playing. There sure is a lot of walking around with flags! (Jancis: Cutting edge commentary. Come back soon for “People run really fast and get given presents!”)

Anyway, next week I’m off to take part in a weeklong workshop in Chichester based on “Six Characters in Search of an Author”. Will it be worth it? Will I have to take my trousers off? I’ll have to find out!

I Am Reviewing The play/the last year/the chance to make bad Oliver! puns.

It’s the morning of the first of July and young T. Jancis is hard at work writing what he hopes will be his next story. Or at least he hopes it will be. Let’s watch as he types away.

T.J: So...how to kill a werewolf. I could have it even 10p coins…No. That’s a stupid idea. What if I threw off a realllly big hill.
FAITH: Oh look who’s back.
TJ: Hi Faith. Bye Faith. Writing. Go.
FAITH: Writing my story if I remember. So you can spend a little time with me.
TJ: No.
FAITH: Why?
TJ: You are a figment of my imagination that has the annoying tendency to talk to me.
FAITH: And to touch you while you’re sleeping.
TJ: I’m not touching that one.
FAITH: But I am on a nightly basis.
TJ: Look. I’m at least six months tardy on this story. I have at least three people if not waiting on tender hooks at least getting ready to sit down with a cold drink and peruse it while listening to the radio on a summer afternoon.
FAITH: You’ve got strange ideas of your friends.
TJ: Anyway I might have a handful added readers thanks to the play.
FAITH: Ah yes. The play. The wonderful play that has left us as ill formed constructs. Tell us allll about it.
TJ: I will. And you can go back into the ether that is my imagination.
FAITH: Fine. But I’m giving you memories of Bob the Builder porn.
TJ: Okay. My memories of OLIVER! over a week later.

I’ve been slow to write this for a few reasons. I’ve never been one to name names in this blog as I don’t really want them coming up to me and saying “What ya mean I’ve got wonky breasts?” (I never wrote a blogstory with a person I knew as a demon. Never. Retconed. Gone. I also have no plans to use the character again in the Fitcher Files. Nope. Not me.) So that’s why I’ve let the dust settle and perspective to settle in. (I did in fact tell a girl she had wonky breasts but like most girls, she ignored me. Oh what a life I live.)


As I have stated in an earlier blog back when I left school I sent off for membership of Stage ’65, the youth theatre of the Salisbury Playhouse. They turned me down saying there was no room but hey, thanks for playing and I’ll be on file. So I kind of moved on until I got a phonecall saying that men were needed so of I went. Now I know there was a rehearsal and remember certain people who made an impact. I know Ben, our director, turned up at the end and was…well Ben. But I seems I’m an incredibly selfish person and my mind said “If you get this, you’ll have time to learn names and faces. But as you might not don’t bother.” So I’m looking back and going So and So must have been there and POOF that’s them in the corner. Then I say they didn’t have that haircut then and they lose their heads and it’s all rather sad and tragic. Sadgic if you will.
We won’t.
So off I go to a callback and there I meet for what I’d count as the first time the other main characters. You could argue that I was the fifth most important character, which is nice.
So here I break my no-names rule and give a summation of these fine folk over the months of the play.

OLIVER
This fine chappy was played by an Oliver as was Fagin. But, as the Salisbury Journal so helpfully said “That’s where the similarities end”. Well yes, one is playing a thirteen year old boy and the other an old Jew. Silly, silly Journal.
He restored my belief in young years he did. And all the girls loved him and his pseduogay ways.
Yes, we had a whole “Gay/Straight/Bi” check for the whole run. For the record I’m Omnisexual and I have to say that is a lovely tablelamp you have there.
So we tried to make sure he went along the path of happiness and relished it when he promised someone in their yearbook he’d turn for them before too long and then watched him panic.
On Saturday, he lost his voice and he got warm lemon and honey. Before long we were just making him drink lemon juice. Oh the jitters he had.
There was also a part in the funeral home where Oliver is stuffed in a coffin but in rehearsal it was broken so they stuffed him in the “cellar” (the understage via trapdoors). From there he shouts at Mr Bumble, the head of the workhouse. Well on Saturday it seems Oliver goes down a hole and then his voice broke only to be restored on re-entry. It seems the backstage guy took the shouting job instead. This also killed Ben who had no idea this would happen and was trapped in the orchestra pit with an accordion (to play, not as some romantic interlude. That said…)

NANCY
Ah Obee/Obi/Holly/Hobby. Sweet innocent all of the above names. Yes this is one Obee (I’m sticking with this name for sanity’s sake) our Nancy. Why Obee? Because she joined up they said “You can have a stage name” and she said “Okay, I’ll be Obadiah” but she spelt it wrong and so it’s all very confusing. Of course I said the reason was she really was a OB-B due to the fact she was an Organic Bioform robot and OB-A was killed in a tragic accident and now we have her. I think she got the joke (see girls misunderstanding me. Also the hardness of my existence.) Of course I then had a dream that mixed that and Battlestar Galactica where we had OB-C but my Obee remained in my head basically annoyed I killed her and going out of the way to ruin the play for me. How? Um…lovely weather we’re having! (Phew, dodged a bullet I shot at myself!)
On the first night she appeared to have food poisoning and so felt ill. So when she left before the curtain call, guess who’s fault that was. Did I break her neck? Not that time. No justice!
Of course, that night was the one when the gunshot didn’t go and I almost passed out thanks to the drop. But no one seemed to car- that’s a lie. All the grownups didn’t want me to die.

FAGIN
This is our Ollie V.1. Was he playing Jewish, Italian or South African? Anywichway, he did a good job. Many was the night he rushed backstage to grey his hair and eyebrows and rub black on his teeth. Sure it looked strange and sure it all rubbed off but he tried didn’t he?
It was also fun to watch him prepare “Reviewing the Situation” by singing at the mirrors in our dressing room.
It may seem I have little to say on him. That’s not true. Of the four people I’m talking about, I probally spent the most time with him. It’s just it appears there aren’t so many wacky stories. It just a lot of talking with someone with the annoying habit of knowing a lot of what I was talking about. The swine. How dare he be well-versed in both literature and film!
And now he’s a pro with a play on in September. While I’m here by lonesome.
You’ve got me.

A fun way to pass the time was to notice that Mr Brownlow, Oliver’s grandfather never got a song. So we wrote one. (Well I wrote it. He just made me sing it for everyone)
And it goes a little something like this:

ACT TWO

Scene 2.1

Oliver and Mr Brownlow enter Brownlow’s Home. Oliver stands in the hall, looking amazed. Above the stairs there is a large picture of what looks like Oliver in a blonde curly wig and a huge pink dress.

MR BROWNLOW

Well young man this is my home. I mean your home. You would like that wouldn’t you?

OLIVER

Very much sir.

MR BROWNLOW

Excellent. Now I better show you round. Let you get the feel of the place.

Oliver is pushed into a chair.

“YOU’RE MY GRANDSON”

MR BROWNLOW

I’m Mr Brownlow

Welcome to my mansion

I shall protect you from the smog

First you get a tour of my house.

This is where I keep my logs.

(SPOKEN) I like logs. They never talk back.

Chorus
You’re my
You’re my grandson
Never stray away from me
You’re so
You’re so handsome
A happy family we shall be

MR BROWNLOW
This is where I keep my books
Most of them I’ve never read.
This is where we keep my dead.
(SPOKEN) NEVER GO IN THERE! The music stops at once as Brownlow glowers at Oliver for around five seconds. Suddenly he sings again.
Your breakfast will be made by cooks.

Chorus

Mrs Bedwin appears from inside of a cupboard. She is carrying a box that appears to ooze…stuff. As she puts it down she sees Oliver and walks towards in a shuffled dance.

BEDWIN
I’m Mrs Bedwin
I’ll be your nanny
Now young man, it’s time for bed.
I shall read you a bed time story
While I smell you sweet washed head
She begins to sniff him.

Oliver gets up and begins to back towards the door.

OLIVER
Though I appreciate the offer
I would hate to be a bother.
I really should go now.
He runs.

MR BROWNLOW
Catch him, you daft old cow.

Oliver is caught.

Chorus X2

Oliver collapses.

BEDWIN
Oh lord. We’ve killed another one.

MR BROWNLOW
No. No. It appears that he’s just fainted with the excitement of being here. Did I mention he might maybe possibly could be my grandson?

BEDWIN
I believe so sir.

MR BROWNLOW
Oh well. Begins to leave. I’m going to go stand by the duckpond and watch the children. Don’t wait up.

BEDWIN
What about the boy?

MR BROWNLOW
If anyone asks, say he has a fever. Get Grimwig to look at him. The man couldn’t tell his oral cavities from his glatimus maximus. Laughes then suddenly stops. That was a medical joke.

BEDWIN
Yes sir.

MR BROWNLOW
You didn’t laugh.

BEDWIN
I’m laughing on the inside, sir.

MR BROWNLOW
You do think I’m funny, don’t you Mrs Bedwin?

BEDWIN
Yes sir.

MR BROWNLOW
And you do like my logs?

BEDWIN
They’re very fine in my humble opinion.

MR BROWNLOW
Good. Good. Walks off humming.

Bedwin waits until he is gone. She looks down at Oliver.

BEDWIN
Sleeping away. So like a doll. Aren’t you a doll? A sweet, innocent doll? You won’t be leaving Mumsy will you? You’re going to stay with Mumsy,aren't you baby doll?

She kneels and places Oliver’s head to her chest and gently rocks him. He moans a little.

BEDWIN
Sush, sush Baby. No more crying. Mumsy will care for you. But first you need a bath. A nice sponge bath with Mumsy

She carry-drags Oliver off stage.

SCENE

I think I’ve scared myself a little. My mind is a worrying place.

DODGER
Our crossdressing Dodger. Well of course we never made that clear. It just happened that our Dodger was a girl. Nothing unusual about that. All though it did make Fagin’s line “She’s going to be a regular little Bill Sikes” a little strange. She is? She’s going to grow nine inches, sprout stubble and bitch slap her girlfiend? Oh, good for her.
On our first night, Charlie was very sad because no one had bought her a single flower. “What ho” thinks I “a chance to both be nice and give mixed messages. Those are my favourite form of message.” So she got cut flowers and Obee? Well she got a nice pot plant which I thought would last longer. See, mixed ain’t it? Of course people were aggressive when I appeared so I dumped them on the floor and legged it down the corridor.
In my card I called her a “blonde drag-king” so that got me some notice.
I appear to be a strong holder of the belief of keeping them keen by treating them mean.
She also learnt she had large eyes and these could be used to scare and worry people and doesn’t everyone need to see it and doesn’t she need to go to every dressing room and show it off? Answer: yes.

Ah yes. All those, dare I say it, friends of mine. Too bad they were all drug related hallucinations.

BILL SIKES
And so we reach the most important part of all. Sit back gentle readers as I tell you of the struggle that was my life. Thrill as I talk of my stunts. Gasp as children become impossible for me.

So the first few months were deadly dull. See Ben thought a Bill who was evil then burst into song would ruin the menace. So I was cut from the songs. So I just sat around, wallowing in despair. Eventualy we got onto my bit and we realised how bad my lines were so they got cut. I mean cut. Mute. Yeah I know. But eventually we solved it.
I mean look at this.
SCRIPT
Nancy: Why are you looking at me like that Bill?
Bill: It’s a dark night, my girl, but it’s light enough for what I’ve got to do.
He kills her.
PERFOMANCE
Nancy: Why are you looking at me like that Bill?
There is a pause as he stares her down. Suddenly his hands snap around her neck and she begins to choke.

Wasn’t that much better?

Thus we get to the big piece. The hanging.
Now at the beginning they said “We’re going to hang you.” I thought “Yeah, right.” Little did I know I would have to wear a harness under my coat and waistcoat, hook myself, wrap the rope around me, wait for the girl to go “BILL SIKES!” climb over a railing and then get “shot”. I leant back, let go with my hands then my feet. Where I dangled ten or nine feet off the ground while we had a quick reprise of “Reviewing the Situation”.
Was it scary? Not after the first few times. Hurt? Like hell but I’m used to been bruised. (Did I mention I have a hard life?)

I have great pictures on my phone of the bruising to show at my next cheese and wine party.
(If I took one thing away from Mr Craig’s Ethics lessons it is that…How sad.)
The sad thing is I’m now really good at hanging yet I may never use the wires again. The tech guy said my dead dangle was one of the best he’s even seen. This is the man I had to take my trousers off to allow him to check the harness. It changes a man you know.

So I was ready and then on the Monday there was bad commutation with the sound guy and the tech so the gunshot never happened so I kind of jumped. This fanagled my gun- oh what the hell I crushed my bollocks and smacked my back.
After that I thought shouting would alleviate the stress.
TUES: “OH GOD DAMMINT”
WED: “OH BLOODY HELL!”
THUR: “SON OF A BIT-”
At this point one of the kids told me my shouting was “ruining the play” and “You can’t shout when you’ve been shot”. So after I yelled her (how dare you say that and the fall killed him not the shot) I resulted to just making sex noises. Like you do.



The Many Smackdowns of Nancy Nancyson, A Lady of the Night and Nice Singer.
1. When refusing to go get back one Oliver Twist, her boyfriend, one William Sikes (a man of excessive hair and owner of one cunning hat) grabbed her by her rather large hair and threw her to the ground.
2. While she lay prostate, Sikes decided to scare her by stamping close to her head which moved her into a position to sing her song.
3. When returning with the boy, Nancy decidedes to intercede on a belt whipping is thrown to the ground for her troubles.
4. She then points with a dramatic finger which results in an arm twisting.
5. Later in the same scene, she has to be forcibly removed from the room for punishment and possible raping.
6. In the final part of her life, she once again gets in the way of an Oliver beating and is chocked, swung around, slammed against a wall then thrown to the floor. At which point she dies. OR DOES SHE?
7. Yes, yes she does.

Back to how hard my life is. I seem to have terrible luck with photos. I just don’t get into them. That’s why I don’t have one on Facebook (that and it was done to annoy Sarah. Back to keen via mean.) Every time they took photos it was Act One, which I’m just not in. Which is kind of disheartening but I maintain they’re going to struggle when I make it big and they have nothing to put on the wall to say I was there. (I am in the back of one rehearsal photo but I am removed for the internet version).

Now I want to make it clear I enjoyed myself. I’m a position that it was so well done that I can pick up on the small things that rubbed slightly.
It was just nice to not have to buy costumes or props for once. And of course, it’s back to no budget for me in September.

NEWSPAPER (BEFORE SHOW)
NEWSPAPER (AFTER SHOW)
PLAYHOUSE


So that was Oliver! This final point leads me nicely into the rest of the post.
More? Good God, man.
The sooner I do this, the sooner I can get around to killing you.
Sorry. What?
So as I was saying, people asked me what else I was up to apart from the play.
You’re going to kill me?
Now I could tell them about the podcast or the Fitcher Files.
People like me.
But I didn’t.
At least I like me.
Did I not think they were good enough? Was I embarrassed? Or was it easier to just say “Doing? This. Normally I don’t go outside for weeks.”
Don’t kill me.
Either way, those three things have in my mind been the things that have stuck. Okay maybe I told people the reason for my gap year was that I was going on a tour of the world then my girlfriend got decapitated in a carcrash and I couldn’t find the energy to go. Then when challenged I’d say “You’ll never know”. Oh mystery!
QUOTE OF THE PARAGRAPH:
Young boy (aghast at my tragedy): Did she die?
Me (Annoyed): No, she was just fine with no head!
Young boy: Oh. Yeah.

Now I’m ready for people to say that “You shouldn’t say such things. If it happened you’d feel awful.” No I’ll be amazed if it does. I’d feel awful because MY GIRLFRIEND WOULD BE DEAD!
(Note to self: This is going to come and bite you in the arse one day. PS. Girlfriend of the future: I love you. Please don’t get your head cut off.)
At least I didn’t go with “And I also lost my best friend in the crash. Yeah, she really shouldn’t have been blowing him while he was driving.” Because that would be too much.
(NOTE: Thomas is once again stealing plots from books to make his life more interesting. Points to anyone who can name the two books.)
YOU’RE GOING TO DECAPATE ME?
Why would I?
I’M A FICTIONAL GIRL.
I promise not to chop your head off.

Do I feel like I’ve wasted my year? No. I’ve matured and gained more stamina. Hopefully this will help me for the next year.
If I could change anything I would try to get more done with the writing. I know I keep whining about no one reading it but that shouldn’t be a problem. What I needed to do was just get on with it. Then again, I remember the fact Kieran destroyed his Media Studies as he would rather hand in something he was happy with then leap through hoops.

Which reminds me: None of you came to my play and only Sarah wished me well! I thought you loved me.
Apologies and kisses in the comments!

My Birthday

I haven't had this yet. But when I do OH WHAT A POST THERE SHALL BE.

All I'm saying is leave your love here.

My lack of planning is, in itself, a plan. Just not a very good one.

See, I have trouble with these. I’m stuck in what can be called a daily grind of nothing. Get up and fill the day until you collapse in a heap at four in the morning. Not blog worthy. I took this year so I could write and I found out that the major problem is I have a very short att


So I’ve had development on the two pieces of “acting”. First up, I got into the Buffy podcast and have roles. Beautiful roles that use both my tongue AND my lips (That came out weird…er) What roles can never be told because…you know, I would do the normal “They work on a demon-filled podcast and funnily enough have creatures to eat your kidneys” spiel but I think you’re smart enough to work through all that. No I don’t, I think you’re all idiots paling before my brilliance. Wait I don’t mean that, come back! Fine leave me, I don’t need you anyway. I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM, YOU HAVE THE PROBLEM. YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MOTHER!

Glad we sorted that out then. So yes, expect more on that when it drops. Suffice to say I’m doing small foot-wiggling dances over the excitement.

Second piece is “Oliver!” which I succeeded in getting the Bill Sykes role. Good. Then they told me “You know having you being scary and then bursting into song would ruin the mood. No singing for you!” This has made the rehearsals slightly less…fun what with the sitting on the floor for hours on end as you have to hear “Food, Glorious Food” for the sixth time. Now with harmonies. What larks! Yet I remain sure that things will soon turn around and I’ll beating woman to death in the not too distant future. (Boy that’s going to come back to bite me in a Google search.)

See what I meant? Nearly a month of my life reduced to nearly two hundred and fifty words. I’m getting magazines through and going “Hmm, I just got that four weeks ago.” Sand through my fingers. Sand through my fingers.

Speaking of all that, loans have been signed and papers are awaited. That’s right. I’m going to uni definitely and surely (Which you’d think would have warranted its own posting had it not being for the crippling ennui [Oh, I’m changing my mind; Ennui is the reason nothing gets done. Put that on a mug and I’ll have the monocle off the King of Spain’s very eyeball. Then WORLD DOMANTION {This is a lot of brackets}])

I’m going to Southampton Solent for one really good reason and many decent reasons. But one really good one, which is as follows: Every other place went “You have a beard and the ability to string basic sentences togther. Come on in.” And I fell for it. But then Southampton wanted a proper audition and said “You have too much facial hair and talk too much but we’re willing to risk you.” So they got me for being passively mean which makes me a strange masochist . “Yeah tie me up but only enough so it slightly stings and gently stroke me with the whip!” (And may that image stay with you for the rest of the day. My gift to you.)

And on to Fitcher. I’m going to keep kicking and whining over that. Love it if you love me. DO IT! DO IT OR I’LL STOP DOING THAT THING YOU LIKE WITH THE CUSTARD AND THE BUDGY! Harsh but fair.
Why as there been such a break? Say it with me. E! “E” N! “N” N! “N” U! “U” I! “I”. What’s that spell? “The reason you haven’t written a decent third part which doesn’t make you cry in a corner sobbing ‘I’m a hack. I’m a hack’!!!” Close enough! That and losing a place to work what with having to move things when the fridge decided that keeping things cold was passé. Then again it’s the dining room table. If I use the study I’d use the internet and then nothing would be done. Nothing! I’M WEAK WILLED! (Chalk up third reason for continued FAIL!)

What else have I done recently? Ah, went to see the second half of “His Dark Materials” performed at Bath. Why the second? Because my sister gave my the 24 hour flu which knocked me out on that day. I had tried to read all three books before I went and was a hundred pages into “The Amber Spyglass”. Saw the play then kept reading. One question though: WHY THE HELL WERE THERE ROLLERSKATING ELEPHANTS!? THERE WERE NONE IN THE PLAY AND IT DID FINE. OKAY THE SPYGLASS BECAME A NON-PLOT. BUT WHY THE HELL WERE THEY THERE? I ACCEPT THE POLAR BEARS IN ARMOUR AND THE FACT YOUR SOUL IS AN ANIMAL BUT ELEPHANTS! ON SKATES? (Elephants on Roller-Skates was to become the title of Jancis autobiography)
Which makes me wonder if the play was better. Yes, Lee just disappeared never to be seen or heard of again. Yes the angels were just people in long dresses on wires which made them seem like bad Peter Pans. Oh and what sort of name is “Glorious Wings” anyway? I would have preferred “NoName” to sounding like a hair metal band.

So that was my month more or less. I’m promising myself I’m going to get an early night and sit and work on the next File. My public demands it in a blasé read-if-it’s-there manner!
(You’d never guess I write this as train of thoughts would you?)




Edit: Complete your "HDM" experience with one of these bad boys. No comment.

Jancis becomes Lower Lower Lower Upper Middleclass

So I was just finishing off my audition parts when I came up to send them off and to my horror I found I had been blacklisted!
Shock! For the first time I have some news and this happened. BUT NO MORE!

Okay so you know how you wait around for a play and or podcast to want you and then two come along.
Well that happened.
Okay, see you next month.

More? Well okay.

Way, way back many centuries ago, not very long after the Bible began (Late’07 for those out of the know) I sent out a form to join Stage ’65, the youth theatre group of Salisbury. You know, fill up the Gap Year.
I promptly received a letter saying “DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WANT TO JOIN US? DO YOOOOOOOU?” So I thought no more of it.
I joined the Yeovil group and the play they wanted to do was Michael Frayn’s “Democracy” a play about German politics. So I stepped away and laughed when they sent out letters saying “We only had three people turn up”.

Now I listen to a lot of podcasts. A lot. If I’m on the laptop I’m listening. So when a favourite “Buffy Between The Lines” put out a casting call I thought “Why not? I’m not doing anything on the eighth onwards” while ignoring the fact I had only got to Season Four in my Christmas “Angel and Buffy for less then £150” gift. Did I mention that the current season of BBTL was after 5? Buffy dies and Willow is a lesbian? Who knew? (Me because I won’t allow myself the joy of finding things out for myself…I’m really ruining my jokes tonight.)

Anyhoo, the 15th, I was playing Super Mario Gal-working on the next Fitcher File and not procrastinating. I also was fully dressed and had washed that morning. Yep. Clean me.
So I’m sitting there when the phone rings. Now I can hear the message being left and it’s Salisbury saying “You’re a manly man. We don’t have manly men. We’re sorry we turned you away. Be our friend! Auditions Sunday. Okay love you byebyebyebye.” No really. They wanted men.

And that’s how a woman named Victoria made me her booty call.

So Sunday comes and I go and it turns out it’s “Oliver!” and I work the Jancis magic on them. And what do you know they say they want to give me a part! So I went back last night and I’m still as confused as ever. But at least they saw me and I can on Monday for the readthrough. It looks like I’m probably going to be Sykes. Hurrah for beating up woman and children.

Right that’s that.

So on the 12th I’m thinking what of the podcast? Then I remember I have the rest of the day! Who needs sleep? (If the BBTL crew are checking up on me, I am very capable without sleep and dedicated to you 540% [If the Oliver people are reading this, I’m young and stupid. Ignore me.]) So I print off a few scripts, knock off the forms and audition pieces and just sent it when Mum tells me the house is falling down. Rocks everywhere.
So that more of less is where I am. Two pieces of acting.
I’m going up in the world.Soon it’ll be dinner at the Little Chef and clothes from Marks and Spencers! Oh for that day!

Update with Guest Star Faith Lehane

Good day to you all on this warm February day. I’m writing this in my room where you either boil to death or freeze depending on the window is closed or opened. Of course the people across from the window have decided to teach the kid to play basketball and so I have to master the KAMPUMPT of the ball as the kid hits the garage.

So what have I am up to, I hear you cry.
Well, the university has…actually I have a better idea.

FAITH!
“What?”
I need you.
“Bet you do big boy. So what we doing?”
I’m telling my friends what happened with universities.
“Cool.”
So when I give you the signal, say your catchphrase.
“Sure.”
So I went to the final interview and so lucky me I’m (now)
…
“I have a catchphrase?”
Yeah. You know-
“I like chains?”
No.
“Eat me big boys?”
Nooo. The one which people don’t really know what it means.
“Nope. Not getting ya.”
Five by five.
“Oh that catchphrase.”
...
“…?”
Well?
“What?”
You not going to say it?
“You just did.”
I want you to say it.
“Why?”
It’s your line.
“You ruined it!”
Look, I don’t think anyone cares about the joke. It was a mistake. Just go back into my mind.
“Fine. Catch you later T.”
See you in another lifetime, sister.
Faith everyone. One of the only people to become less trampy when she became evil.
“I’m still here!”

Ignore her. So yeah. I’ve got unconditional offers for all five universities. The world is my bitch.
“I thought I was your-”
Faith, I’m not joking. I’m trying to tell people about my life and I can’t have you innuendoing everything.
“But I’m bored. All the pool cues broke and we don’t have the change for the arcade.”
Look I’m struggling enough with the little git bang around outside. I just need to do this. What must I do to make you leave alone for half an hour?
“Put me in a story.”
Fine. You’re the attractive dark haired girl with the leather jacket in the third case.
“But I-”
GO!

Jeez. Don’t you hate it when fictional characters pester you for work? Worse then actors.

Right. Yeah. I’ve got to go on a few “make up your mind days” and choose before the end of March.
But of course try to explain to them that the reason you’re not pulling triple backflips is that the Chaos theory haunts you in your sleep.
If I go to A I don’t meet B when she falls from a second story window. Thus I don’t take her out to get a drink and I don’t meet C. And C and me go on to make a comedy troop that makes the Pope award us with knighthoods.
Like he does.
So they say ‘You’re quite a character aren’t you?’ and ‘you do realise you’re never going to be a traditional leading man don’t you?’ To which I say, don’t I make a change from all the pretty boys and anyway my mum likes me so there! And we all sit there in silence.

I think they wanted more “If I don’t act I would have to eat my testicles” then “I’m getting so lonely I’m having to talk to myself and I’m talking back”.
…
No eating jokes or something about my balls?
…
Neat.

Right. That’s the big thing.

Just
Keep reading the Fitcher Files and maybe leave a comment to show me that Kieran isn’t my only fan.
Brush your hair and always thank strangers for the sweets.

“I would come in now and say something to annoy T but I promised I wouldn’t.”

Happy One Year.

Oh blog. How you've grown.
Back when I started I was so young and innocent.
Now I'm old and hairy.

But you will not be left behind. Nay I shall carry you in my heart forever. Which I...Teechers? Christ this IS a old blog.

Come one, let's go get hammered. My treat.

In which Jancis works towards a deadline

Well, it’s that time of the year. The time to go on Amazon and order DVDs and books for other people. The time when people ask “If you don’t believe in Jesus, YOU DON’T GET THE HOLIDAY!”
As people might know, I’ve been banned from Christmas by my sister, who, a couple of years ago said “If you don’t let Christmas into your heart, you don’t get the holiday”. Me being me, Of course I took this a step further and told everyone that it meant I had to buy my presents just to feel included. I think Bobbi still believes me about that. I should call her and apologize for A LOT!
By the way, the murderer was Roland who was being paid to wean us out as demon fighters or something. I’m still amused by Roxanne apologizing to Charles for pushing of a balcony who had no idea what was happening.

Speaking of me being free and easy with the truth, there’s a guy I met in Chichester who I’m going to apologize to here.
Short blonde guy I met on the open day, I lied to you. I do not have toes missing, my eyes are not different colours, I am not an albino with dyed hair and contacts, I did not spend the night in a ditch neither did I spend it at my girlfriend, neither did I hide in the closet when the boyfriend came back, neither when she said “Oh Jesus” did I leap out the closet shouting “HERE I AM!” and finally I am not clinically insane and do NOT want to wear your skin. It was all greasy and as you know, it puts the lotion on the skin ‘else it gets the hose!

Point? *scans up quickly* Ah. The holidays. So today I received all the packages to give to mon famillie. And yes I have an advent calendar before you ask. It cost two pounds from Tesco. Remember when you got happy about 5p worth of chocolate back before you realised you could buy chocolate yourself. Or condoms.

Jesus, I’m really distracted today. I’ll knock it out quickly. Speaking of my masturbation habits NONOSTOPNO!
Quick before I start again. I wrote my holiday card. Remember those? The 100 word stories. Well there’s a new one. And this year I’m giving it to the relatives. And if it works out, I’ll have a PDF to email you all. Won’t that be super?

Okay. Holiday. Tick. Apologies. Tick. Talk of my penis. Yep.
Okay.
AH. Now Sarah’s been saying “Jancis, why you know have photos on the Facebooks?” And I say “Sarah, you rube! Learn to speak good! You sound like a LOL cat and I don’t want anyone near my cheeseburgers! Also I am a mix of races*, all of which come from cold wet places. I think I’ve been outside six times this month. Basically a photo of me at the moment would scare people.” Then Sarah ate my cheeseburger.
Or something like that. Maybe I don’t have a camera? I’ve gone so far even I can’t tell what’s real or not.

So there you go. My November post!
Happy Mark? I’m up there with Sarah and…something to do with toast. I got lost when they used “monologue” in a post-break up post. IT’S A POST. OF COURSE IT’S MONO. IF IT WAS MORE YOU’D BE WRITING A PLAY.
Speaking of plays, where was the great BigSal movie I so gallantly recorded lines for? Hmm? Hmm? Do you want to go on MY wall of shame?
I thought not.


*Wales, England, Latvia. (It means I’m 2/3 good at singing and 3/3 bad at football. OH SNAP!…he said in text…I’m going to crawl into my cupboard now.)