Monday 15 August 2011

My autobiography

Nearly a year ago I came up with an idea to busy myself: write an on-going autobiography. The difference was that it had to be told with a photo, which I described for at least 1000 words (thus embodying 'a picture is worth 1000 words'). This was my first entry:

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The picture above was taken in my last A-Level Drama lesson and basically exemplifies how we spent 4 hours a week in school: pissing around with our friends and teachers, who were also our friends.

It was one of the saddest moments, walking out of the Drama Studio which had a knack of smelling like 13 year old trying-to-cover-their-puberty-smell-with-Lynx-and-hopelessly-failing boys, realising I would never return as a student.

It was also very sad finding out I got a fucking B in Drama.

I have loved acting for as long as I can remember, which is why it’s kind of depressing I’ve fallen out of it and actually become shy. I don’t know when I had that turning point. I doubt many would have foreseen that change of heart when I was acting out ‘Cinderella’, throwing my shoe so excitedly that it hit the chandelier in our living room as my Prince Charming (portrayed brilliantly by my older brother – something which has only just dawned on me is slightly inappropriate) ran after me.

I doubt my mum would have foreseen that either. I still remember her face floating in the audience whilst I was acting like a child who was mentally, and literally, torn in half by her divorcing parents (an idea, by the way, conjured by a 10 year old me... directorial genius, obviously). Or the other time I decided to brat out and refuse to give up a prop WHILST ON STAGE because my head was screaming ‘it’s pretty, keep it!’. To be fair, it was a pretty ring – therefore Daniel’s embarrassment (at being made to think it was his fault the ring wouldn’t come off my finger) was totally worth it.

Thinking about it now, it wouldn’t surprise me if I stopped liking to act because I simply became a typical teenager aware of the fact that we are always being judged. Despite my middle-child-syndrome (it DOES EXIST) and constant desire for approval, despite my noticeable attire which is too big and/or colourful and/or clashing and despite wearing little makeup in order to ‘present my ugliness to the world so that they become accustomed to it’, I am a massive pansy who does not like judgement in people’s eyes.

Why, people in ‘The Trial’, do you think I hated being the stripper?! Thank you for that Miss. I appreciate the casting...especially when Mr scary bald Italian/Canadian head of year approached me immediately after the performance saying ‘I felt uncomfortable watching you’. Thanks Sir. Thanks for eradicating that awkward moment of my life with an un-awkward comment.

That, by the way, is sarcasm.

The seven years that I studied Drama were...interesting. I had five teachers from start to finish, three men and two women. I’m pretty sure two of those men were gay and at least two teachers were mentally unstable – though casual reminiscing makes me question if that is, in fact, accurate. I’m debating whether or not to backspace and type ‘all’. I think you have to be a little bit insane because of the knobhead children you’re bound to teach.

I was a bit of a moron sometimes...hard to believe, I know.

Cue a list of some of the reasons I got into trouble with these crazy and/or gay teachers:

1) Not being able to work out whether or not my hand was larger than another boy’s. It wasn’t. This was my first ever lone detention and was massively crushing to the soul.
2) Not doing homework (x many)
3) Running out of class without asking. I had a sudden desire to vomit. I did not make it to the toilets and still remember the awkwardness of walking around my own bile-y puddle after class pretending it did not belong to me. Skills.
4) Dropping a microphone when specifically being told not to literally seconds before. This resulted in Crazy Man 1 screaming ‘FUCKKKKKK!’ at me as the feedback blared from the speakers, echoing and amplifying as if acting as backing music. It is still a moment I wish I was not such a retard about. I knew the wire was there so why the hell did I still stumble over it?!
5) Messing around in rehearsals and performances. To everyone I ever worked with who complained about this: shut up. I was good MOST of the time. In fairness, gobbing over everyone whilst laughing hysterically was unprofessional...

Teachers definitely needed a sense of organised chaos. ‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in ’t’. I wish we did Shakespeare for one of our performances; how can you take Drama and Theatre Studies without performing a bit of the cliché pieces?! The closest we ever came was watching and reviewing the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 2009 version of ‘The Taming of the Shrew’. I can say with great authority: it was a piece of shit. In fact I recall writing in the exam ‘Stephen Boxer was the only redeeming aspect of this performance’ and then went on to insulting everything. It was awful. My eyes glazed over. They don’t even glaze over when I’m watching DIY SOS.

Post-exam talk made me feel ridiculously panicky...everyone seemed to have said they liked it! Shit. Have I just talked myself into failing? Dun dun duuuun.

Answer: No. It was my coursework that got me that bastard B.

Saying all of this however, studying Drama for A-Levels was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I mock everyone who mocked Drama for being easy (which it’s not! Try rehearsing with some of the monkeys I had in class and doing tonnes of coursework for a play you struggle to remember 10 weeks later), took Chemistry despite hating it, and will have a life in a career they don’t enjoy.

That’s what subject snobbery does to you.

I did something I like and go to a comparatively crap university than many of my counterparts. BUT while you were fawning over a Bunsen burner and examining disulphide bridges, I made an amazing group of friends and exercised my gaydar skills.

Par.

Thursday 11 August 2011

Hussain Manawer's 17th birthday present to me

So I decided to revisit my MySpace page and came across the poem below. It made me smile again so I thought I'd put it on a website I visit more than twice a year. I've decided to include commentary in red:

I was about to go to sleep, but I just remembered
When I see you running around Highlands X-mas parties in Decembers
I can't remember how we first met
But Ilford IG1 is where this fairytale was set
An ambitious girl would never touch a cigarette This is true, I won't make myself a hypocrite after getting my dad to quit
Instead sit at home and wait for her Shrek To this day I have no idea wth this means
I've known you for years and you never get vexed
You're the girl who wouldn't care and just wear a vest At school I think I became known for the girl who wore weird shit. Particularly memorable outfits include a blue bow on my head (which is in fashion now! To which Daniel commented 'can you take that off? It's confusing me about your gender'), knee high stripey black and pink socks with a stripey black and white skirt and a pink top, my farmer skirt. And although it's not an outfit, I feel like the day I straightened one side of my hair and left the other curly needs to be mentioned.
These lyrics are shit, that was my warm up, YES!
REAL TALK FROM NOW, OKAY, OKAY, LET ME DO THIS THING LOL
The police ain't got a reason to arrest you or me
If you ain't clocked, I'm talking about a girl called Jall, Tee Hussain is one of the few people that still embraces a disgusting mispronouncing of my name, due to my nursery teacher Mrs Hobbs...Who I delivered a parcel to the other day and she remembered me! :)
She's got a warm heart and she will cruise like Penelope
If I was a buff girl I would say 'she's a threat to me!'
Your heart is warm like a heater
You're the queen of speed like your name was Rita
And I feel bare sorry for you, coz each year you grow like a centimeter! 5ft1.5" bitches!
But it's not the height, it's about what's inside that counts
Like Wayne Wonder, along you will bounce
Bounce off all the walls, stand up real tall
I'll be the shoulder when you cry and a voice when you call
I didn't get you a card coz I ain't got debit, and didn't send you a text coz I ain't got credit!
These are all quotes coz I just said it
I know you're feeling it
I can see your face when you read it I was actually smiling by the time he came to this part
Even though you're small, from the rest you're elevated
Your personality shines like it's been laminated
This is blue ink, but if your heart read it, it's gold plated
I know it ain't all that but I hope it's highly rated
I use small words like you, no need for a theasaurus
You have a sharp horn like a rhinosaurus
Let me end it with Happy Birthday Tejasaurus!

Tuesday 9 August 2011

Thrilling

I know this is not the time to get excited that people (who I don't even know!) are quoting my Facebook status about the London riots, but I'm starting to feel drunk with fame!

Here it is:

Veil your selfishness with a weak excuse about Democracy and Justice. Burn your neighbours' cars, destroy the bus that takes your little brother to school, smash the shops your mum goes to and steal from a family business. Scare everyone into staying at home as they watch London burn. Then complain about how you don't get jobs, how you get stereotyped and how you are the Victim...?

Shurrup fool!