N.B. And would it be heinously blasphemous (and magnificently big-headed) on my part to see the celebration of Jesus Christ's death on Friday and Resurrection on Sunday as "like, totally mirroring my life, man!"
So, I have moved out.
What little I have to show for my life was not even afforded proper boxes, only student style humongous black and red checked industrial wash bags (you know the ones). I wonder at this rate whether I'll be carried out one day in one of these myself; they were built to last longer than most humans.
Where I once prided my ability to move from home - to student house - to home - to new boyfriend - to home - to next new boyfriend with such fluidity and alacrity, I now look at the embarrassingly worthless (shamefully small) pile of crap that trails behind me with a creeping anxiety and despair.
Now, cards on the table:
1. I am 31 years old.
- Or as my mum would so lovingly age-me-up, "you're 32 this year"
2. I no longer have a boyfriend.
3. I no longer have any near future plans to get married or have kids.
- As it turns out the prospect of marriage and subsequent sprogletts was off the table before I'd made the above decision and without any notification. (Maybe life should come with big iPhone red circled "notifications" just hanging there above your head as a reminder, for vital information such as this).
4. On the more trivial end of that scale. I will no longer have regular sex (see prev. blog)
5. The job I have now pays less then the first job I had when I left uni 10yrs ago.
- I updated my CV today. Turns out that first job was a hundred times more interesting too!
6. The career I want is going to cost a minimum of £9000 in training fees alone and full-time training.
- All neatly packaged, sugar-coated and tied up with the fact that even after training there will be absolutely no guarantee of work in such a competitive industry.
7. I owe about the above amount in uni debt. Still!
- It scares me to even write that. Clearly all monies earned since has done nothing but form an endless line of dark creamy, frothy Espresso Martinis. Which probably could have reached the moon by now and maybe earned me some money or notariety in the Guiness Book of Records. But hopefully scaring myself shitless and writing this fact might help to change things. Lord knows nothing else seems works with me.
8. The job I don't want, but need to pay said debts off is becoming a reality.
- I have to seriously consider going back to being a PA in the Financial Sector to pay the bills, debts and save for the course.
9. This will take at least a year.
10. Back to point No.1 - I am 31 years old.... going on 32!
11. Refer then to point No. 6 - the acting profession is the mother of all competitive businesses. Age and looks are key. (n.b. Essential if you are of that slightly more annoying minority, the female persuasion)
12. Things are that bad that even my little brother's is taking pity on me. (And who right now probably earns more than me).
- He's kindly offered to help me move.
- He's picking me up in his car, not only because I have no car, but I can't even drive!
On the face of it. Right now, life is feeling pre-tty shitty.
As a believer in every kind of astrology going; I have always relied on my monkey-like talents. Swinging, prancing, dancing and dodging from one situation to another. Keeping everyone entertained and impressing even myself with the ingenuity at which I can make things on the surface appear to go my way. What I have come to realise that with all of this mucking about, there have been no foundations laid. I'm like King Louie from Disney's Jungle Book, building an empire, desperate for fire to prove how clever I am (like the real humans) and all among crumbling ruins.
But I am also a Virgo. Pragmatic and as resourceful as ever. Not the person to shy away from hard work and dogmatic enough, when pushed enough, to keep going till they've achieved their goals.
It's juuuust that sometimes a little too apt to daydreaming and idealising the world to realise that it's a tough shitty little place out there. And it turns out that thinking good thoughts doesn't cut the mustard unless you are an actual Disney character...
But this razing to the ground of my entire existence isn't totally negative.
I have read enough guru self-help books to spit and polish anything into something positive.
I have spent the last 10 years not knowing what I want out of life, not having enough conviction behind those vagaries to really push for what I wanted. I lived solely by, what I didn't want. The last few months have, at the very least, made what I really want crystal clear:
1. I still want to follow a career in acting.
- All excuses aside now, kids. F**k that big scary acting world out there! I'm coming to get you.
2. I want to clear all my debts and be solvent.
- This might have to precede over the above more as a necessity than as a desire.
3. Turns out, marriage and children are important to me.
- Who'd have thought it? Anyone who knows me from school may just have fallen off their stool laughing. But I am pleased I have at least realised this before it's too late.
- And I still have time to save myself this one for later. Until The Barwood Ovaries start ticking too loud for me to drown it out with some proper house music, that can wait. And I still have a good 4, sorry 3, solid years left before I can truly start to biologically panic.
4. I want my own personal library/study.
-I got to throw in at least one fantasy wish list in here. And it's not really a biggie. I don't want to be rich, I just want a house where I can (even pretend) to have walls full of books... and vinyl, and a big feck off leather armchair to ponder life's mysteries in.
"All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art."
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