A post that is not all about Acting but In which there is Gnashing of Teeth and a longing for 38point Bold

Okay – so here is the deal…I was studying, at some acting classes I thought would be excellent for me.

They weren’t.

They made my mental state very torrid and very tortured.

I chose to go to them for many reasons – such as not totally full time and a different approach as opposed to here Australian Academy of Dramatic Art.

I deferred for a semester, thinking if the classes didn’t work out I could go there mid-year.
I was very glad I did this when they told me that they were having a mid year intake and the Acting Classes I was in had driven me over the edge, dangling by a very, very fine thread.

I was not so glad when they told me that most likely they won’t be having an intake till next year – not enough students to make a worthwhile ensemble – makes perfect sense, can’t fault them for it, it is thoughtful and shows they are not all about money but instead a good acting course.

Problem being I was counting on that course for a social circle, for friendships outside of my very little real world consisting of five, on a good day.

I was counting on it for the opportunity to do something I loved, for free, and now I feel massively bereft.

I have enrolled in part time classes here The Actors Centre – which will be fantastic as it is the school I desperately want to attend on a full time basis – but they are only

1. a couple of nights a week

2. going to cost money

3.don’t start till the end of July.

In addition to this I have had DOC rushed to hospital after injuring his thigh (turned out to be nothing too major but made me realise how alone I am here – how much of a lack of actual REAL support I have),

I have been unwell and then rushed to hospital after passing out through drinking 8-10L of water a day for two weeks (made me realise that my GP when he said there was no upper limit to how much I can drink – is a fool ),

I have an infected toenail which means (oh joy) podiatrist tomorrow and, probably, (oh joy) nail removal (did I mention my Mum was a podiatrist and used to deal with my ingrown toenails with NO ANESTHETIC so now people touching my feet when they hurt freaks me out),

someone has made a DESIGNER SNUGGIE,

Have had several huge fights with DOC,

have realised that my children’s school for many reasons for want of a long explanation , sucks,

I have Seasonal Adjustment Disorder,

I am pre-menstrual

and now, NOW the fricking flat we are living in, which has a BILLION features that reminds me of my father’s house and thus triggers flashbacks and Very Bad Memories at every opportunity has Black Mold, severe Black Mold – the kind that makes you sick Black Mold IN EVERY ROOM BUT THE BATHROOM, oh and the fusebox sparks and burns fuses….

it is ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH (in 29 point bold).

Oh and did I mention we have no money to move house and are not eligible for the bond loan again till next year, it seems, in NSW.

And I am well aware my problems and crapness of life is nothing compared to others. But I am not others, I am me.

So here I am, Sitting in bed. Wondering what the hell to do.

Do I give up on The Actors Centre as I think I am not an Actors Centre girl – I didn’t get into there at the end of last year and I’m not overly confident and beautiful, as they all seem to be.

Do I stay in Sydney and go to AADA, which would be free, but was always felt like a kind of back up till I got into The Actors Centre.

Do I audition for National Theatre School – the only option left in Melbourne, thanks to Melbourne Uni and what they have done to the VCA,

(only the Nat and I have a history, auditioned twice and gotten in only to have to essentially pull out – once due to money being an issue, once due to having my heart broken and not being fit to breathe and think let alone act). – but it would mean being in Melbourne, I have family there, family who would help out if I needed them. Or are just a comfort by being. I know the schools, I know the doctors, I know the areas to live in.

Essentially I am terrified.

I want so much.

I want to be living somewhere non mouldy and non memory triggering. I want to be at an Acting school that I love. I want to be healthy and happy. truly happy. I want to feel like my life is not a living hell.

So what do I do? any help? advice? similar situations? Anyone know the way out of mental hell?

Hiatus

And this is why I haven’t been blogging.

I made a decision at the start of the year to go to one acting school over another – not as big a commitment, fantastic training – I thought – and for some it may be, for me it was a ten week ride to hell with no brakes. And now the Acting school I thought I could go to in second semester if the first one didn’t work out? Well that, that isn’t doing a mid year intake (told me they were- they aren’t)

I haven’t been blogging because I have been massively physically ill – won’t bore you with the details but it has sucked.

I haven’t been blogging because every. single. day I re-live all the pain that has ever happened to me, and it is destroying me.

I don’t know which way is up from here. I’m not depressed. I’m not in need of anti depressants. I am Post Traumatically Disordered, I am Generally Anxious with panic attacks that last for half an hour and make peoples reaction to “Paranormal Activity” look like a fun day at the beach, I am not eating much of anything. I want to dissapear.

I started my new blog and she still might grow – we’ll see. In the meantime I will feel like this :-

And thats the thing – I know so many of you are my friends, are there – but I feel so unwanted and unneccesary in a purely basic, logical way. I want to vanish.

So this will be me. Just for now. And that has to be okay.

Because – you see-

photo credit here and here

This is what we are trying.

Okay. So i did some serious staring at myself in the mirror today. Yes in a weird talking to myself way, not in a ‘ooh don’t i look lovely after being ill for weeks’ way.

And here is where I came to.

Right now I just don’t get the point.

Right now I’m finding it all too hard.

But I have promises to keep, and hopes that I will find someone to help before it all gets way too much.

(incidentally I hate searching for psychological help – the endless exposition of my life again, and again and again every new therapist – and just going to a therapist feels so – I don’t know – 90′s American…sigh…but if they are needed, and they are, then well, no option really – anyway)

Heres the deal. Or at least what I hope the deal will end up being.

I am going to study Acting – As solidly as I can. I am going to do one more audition for a school at the end of the year and then just stick with whatever comes out of that.

I am going to complete my Bachelor of Social Science degree by distance education.

I am going to keep any promises I have made thus far.

I am going to try to cling to the hope that this lonliness will pass – it is crippling me.

I will try to do one Mum thing with my kids every day no matter how I feel.

That is about it except for

And, I look an awful lot like Emily the Strange at the moment. Which is pretty damn cool :)

Then I had to go and lie down again as I have a nasty earache :s

So yes, thats where I am bloggesphere – lets hope for the best. And lets hope that this sticks this time.

Random Post (I’m trying)

I tried. I really did. After the last time why wouldn’t I…but this story goes well back in time…

See when bub 1 was 5 and bub 2 was 3 we moved to Perth. From Melbourne. Because I got into a course there. A course that would make everything I longed for come true.

A course that I auditioned for in some hotel conference room in the CBD and was so inspired by the head of the department that how could I not do it, add to that all of the implied shared classes with my favorite acting and music theatre school in the world and how could I not go.

So, naeively, we went. At first it was good, the flat I found was great, 3 bedrooms, close to the city, so much cheaper than Melbourne, nice people, nice, if not a little quiet city. The kids and their Dad arrived and they seemed to like it too…then school started – and we couldn’t find a place for Bub 1. Not in the local primary ( 2 mins down the rd) but instead in one a half hour bus trip away. Then we learnt that in Perth Prep is like Kinder, not like Prep and Bub 1 needed more than another year of kinder. We also discovered there is no 3 year old kinder which left Bub 2 at home for another year…Okay …deep breath…all still do-able.

Then I turn up to Orientation day, am told the course director has been “moved to another position” that the course will now be focusing on ‘Performance Art” -see here for example- not for the squeamish  - and well, I’m an actor, not a Performance Artist. In fact the course had changed so much that the second years were sueing the University. I bailed.

I had moved my family a three hour plane trip for nothing and we did not have the cash to go back.

In the end I did some decent subjects at another Uni, performed in a  play and have a truckload of stories from it…It was miles less than ideal and I was GUTTED.

But that is what happened last time.

So this time was not going to be like that.

Except we moved here and the flat, well, sucks – so much so my kids don’t want to bring their friends home and it gives me bad memory triggers…

school for bub 2 is great, bub 1 not so much – bad bullying like she has never had before…

And the course, the course…that is another story alltogether – It is terrifying me in a not good way, it is damaging my self esteem – and that can’t be good…it is not what I came here for…I came here to learn and enjoy and build my confidence – I know that sounds like typical actor whinge – won’t be told I’m doing the wrong thing, right? except I don’t mind – I don’t- I expect to be not doing the right thing. Tell me I’m doing something wrong and how to fix it and I’ll adore you for ever – tell me I’m not reacting in a way I would or pull how i feel about a course off my status updates on FB and I will be upset and unimpressed.

But there are options at least, at least i think there are and hope they are good…

’cause right now I’m thinking performance art looks like a pretty good option.

sometimes internal monologue writing sucks

The last month has thrown me, I’ll be the first to admit that – in fact the last three months have thrown me so far out of kilter that if I was a train I would be crashing through lounge rooms on my way to my destination…

I have become this invisible, lost wallflower of a girl.

And I can’t find clothes.

If you know me you know I live my life by my clothes – in a ‘remember that day when we…” “Oh yes, I was wearing that red singlet top and you were wearing that black dress” kind of way – or in a “I remember my fifth birthday party because i was wearing that dress my great grandma made for me and i loved it so much” kind of girl – I use them to define me in a more understandable way, in an outside world that in general doesn’t ‘get’ me, makes it simpler for them…so this really means something. Not in a ‘i have nothing to wear’ way but ‘I have NOTHING that looks like me” way…

I look through my wardrobe and nothing says me…

I wander through shops and nothing says me…

And yesterday I realised why – because the me I am trying to be is not me…

I am black, always, all the time.

I am cafe’s in alleyways and arcades in between streets in  the city.

I am doing something that makes me believe in my talent not tear it down.

I am tartan and fishnet tights.

I am doc martens and converse. I am jeans and havianas.

I am the beach.

I am living impractically so i can live somewhere that feels like home.

I am me most when I am truely loved.

I am coffee at degraves,

I am wooly scarves and winter coats,

I am being loved and loving fully back,

I am feeling so so much and not questioning it but using it,

I am looking forward without dread which causes illness,

oddly enough I still expect respect (go figure – this one really makes no sense)

I am summer and beach and byron bay,

I am not shattered and broken hearted,

I am not discovering that what I moved for may be too much for me, as it drains my emotions to the point of near breakdown,

I am not four hour long arguments nearly every day of the week,

I am not children who blame each other for their unhappiness and being unable to help them see things true,

I am not this seventies flat in this overcrowded suburb that feels so unlike home, that even my children don’t want to bring their friends to,

I am not suburban malls on the weekend,

I am not dressing like everyone else,

I am not hiding what I feel,

I am not soldiering on while being destroyed,

I am not a backpack.

I am not here,

And this is just the start of finding myself again,

But it begins now.

It’s about that time of night….

It’s always Saturday night, whenever I’m exhausted, worn out and past the need for sleep that i feel the need to blog.

When I want to write about all the hundred things that are running around my head in ever decreasing circles.

The things that stop my sleep at night, that make me suddenly pass out in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, that makes me snap at my beautiful girl because she ALWAYS has to have someone watching her, with her, near her, doing everything for her and she-is-ten…

And I can’t.

I can’t because it might make this blog so dark that no one would ever visit it again.

I can’t because I don’t want to show all of the not so good bits of me to the world not yet, and the one time I’ve tried in the last week, I was told I wasn’t doing it the right way.

I can’t because I’m scared I’ll upset or hurt people who read this who have upset or hurt me, and that matters to me.

I can’t.

Just enough to write that I can’t stop crying, for whatever reason my heart has been broken, my trust destroyed and my spirit nearly crushed. and I am just holding on.

Just enough to write that I am so exhausted by constant pain that blinds me to the rest of life. So exhausted by my inability to consume because its the only part of life i can control right now.

Just enough to say that I will blog happily soon again but right now it is Just.Too.Hard.

All of it.

I want to tell amusing tales of my children or acting class, or life outside, or moving to a new state – but right now I am bereft of any…

Maybe next Saturday. Maybe.

The death of a bag…..

I, Unlike many women do not hunt shoes, or diamonds.

I am on the constant hunt for the ‘Perfect’ Bag. One which has a comfortable strap, is long-lasting, looks kind of cool and doesn’t hurt my back. It must always be a Motherbag (as brilliantly described by The NDM), which means it needs to be big, or have lots of compartments.

My current bag was an emergency purchase the last time I was up in Sydney before my move as my current bag had bitten the dust in a dramatic falling apart-hysterical-fit-loosing-both-ends-of-its-strap-and-magnetic-button before collapsing in a heap in the corner at the station…where had to find a bag to replace it VERY quickly, as it was carrying vital items I needed, thus this bag was bought – bargain and sacklike, with a strap that comes undone just glancing at anything above 1 kilo in weight it is the most temperamental bag I have known…

So it is to be replaced, soon, but do not tell it, it will be sad and purposeless, then again, I may use it for old socks….anyway…

There have been a series of blogs writing about their bags and the insides of such – for instance Snob Nicky, whose bag is much cooler than mine, and as I need a distraction from my last post, which continues unabated, I thought I would give it a try, before it becomes, you know, an old bag (ha, ha,heh..nup)

So, here is my bag…

Lovely isn’t it – kind of Elephant Hide grey (and yes my carpet in the WHOLE FLAT looks like this)

and here is the hole in the front pocket that I lost all my change, and, more importantly, several barley sugars from…stupid hole…

The side pockets – containing – Antibacterial wet ones, and antibacterial gel, the best bag pen EVER (made of solid wood, writes in real ink is indestructible, was a fantastic surprise christmas gift in 2009), 3 biros/pens, 6 train tickets, the peel off lid from a bottle of Orange juice, an old tissue and an ATM receipt…..

The main part, in sections – My 2010 carry everywhere tiny diary, my notebook for class, two more train tickets, another shopping list on the back of an envelope, My class handbook, my Meisner book I am reading for class and deodorant, bought from a 7 eleven, in a help my top REEKS emergency moment, along with Impulse, which has been passed on to my daughter….

Second lot – empty 1.5 litre water bottle from todays class, “The Big Girls Book” useful for those ‘I need something to read yet have nothing’ emergencies, of course since this went into my bag from some glossy magazine, such an occasion has not arisen. Tissues, another pen, Notebook full of little squares and origami that I love but still feel guilty pinching from my daughter (she got it as a 9th birthday present and left it on her floor for a month – I thought it was justified…) small stuffed toy dog my kids gave me, black and white purse, meant to hold ‘special things’ with two business cards for the same Prahran cafe inside, my wallet and my sunglasses.

Main section part three – 1 light wrap cardigan (black), 1 singlet top (black), I hat (green and crushable) all of which have had use for me, my children or a cold fellow student in the last week. I know it seems silly to carry spare clothes but i got into the habit with kids, I’d rather not be cold and after ‘smellgate’ (see above) can you blame me for the spare singlet top?…

There is one very small separate section inside and into it I cram everything small or that I might need in a hurry, it is where my wallet and phone habitually live (unless they make a kamikaze like leap for the bottom of the bag, usually at check-out or when I desperately need to make or answer a phonecall…anyway…

Today it contains – Old butter menthols, Cocoa Butter lip balm and spf15+, the remains of the unescaped change, blank cardboard, bottle of pills that contains anything i could ever need, Raferen – which is Neurofen but cheaper, Herron Blue – Neurofen but cheaper, Pentagram on a chain which I took off pre audition for my current school thus will not put on again, receipt, iPod with tragic collection of music that i must change (when shuffle becomes predictable you know you have hit a wall), my keys, the salada biscuit I was supposed to eat today and the lone barley sugar that remained, left behind, abandoned by his friends….

My bag also usually contains my camera (plugged into laptop to bring you these delightful images and my mobile phone (charging), oh and the water bottle usually has water in it.

So there it is…a goodbye post to this bag – unless the next one I get sucks, then I may have to deal with its temperament, or just go to Aussie Disposals – at least their bags are tough, if not waterproof….

just re-read this. oddly it made me cry *sigh* guess I’m on day seven now – everything hurts-like-i-have-no-skin-and-can’t-breathe day

Its been 6 days…

6 days of avoiding or being to exhausted to blog.

6 days of blog reading and comment reading and being so so glad and honoured by so many of the comments on my post here after feeling that no one liked me (poor me- sniffle sniffle)

But it hasn’t been 6 days in which nothing has happened.

On day one I felt very bad for a friend who wrote a brilliant post and then felt the need to withdraw it (which I totally respect – but it was such a brilliant idea and I am very proud of her (she knows who she is)

On day two I was so exhausted from my Classes that week that blogging just felt impossible – I also hit a wall my – “I am crap and letting everyone who may have believed in me down” wall in the classes. But I keep going because I love them. Adore them in fact. And damn it, I know i can do this.

On day three I was curled around myself in bed after having my heart ripped apart and privacy invaded and I longed to blog, to blog past the foggy-ness and the sadness, to get it all down and all out, but i couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I will but I can’t right now. My world had turned into a giant foggy mess.

On day four I slept, I slept and slept – I tried to escape the screaming in my head and heart in sleep. I also had a night out with class from acting school and it was good – Somehow I put the screaming bit of me in a box, put some of my walls back up and met some amazing girls ( I am lacking in female friends) and they are amazing. I discovered that Sydney at night is soothing when your heart is bleeding, especially in the rain. i also discovered that my one pair of high heels cuts into the back of my feet badly and that I look ridiculously skeletal in a dress inhereted from my mother. I also realised how absolutely hurt and distarught I am with her – this dress will be thrown in the bin and the ‘how the HELL did you think moving away from your grandchildren while they were little? haven’t you abandonned me enough’ letter will be written- as childish as it is.

On day five I cried,sobbed, screamed. It was Valentines day and I was in serious pain. I slept al lot and cried a lot and lost myself in this book which helped at least a little – it resonated way too much with me and that was scary, but it was an amazing read. But i was still too scared to post as I still didn’t know what to say.

On day six I pulled myself out of bed in a panic thinking it was an hour earlier than the time was. Out of horrid heated nightmares that I cannot run away from, waking up to fear and emptyness. My head screaming and heart hurting and a large blanket of sheer disbelief covering me .Collapsing back in bed and waking again two hours ago, same symptoms but finally realsising that I need to write something. Anything. Or I never will again.

So I wrote this.

A story I was told…

I’m ill, in an "I can’t move unless it is rushing to the bathroom" kind of way and it is not fun.Also my stupid pre-paid internet cut me off before i had used my data limit…
But I have a good yet sad story to tell – names have been changed to protect the people who told me…

As many of you know i started at a new Acting school this week (exciting, exciting, nervous, nervous) and on orientation night I was seated next to Jess, an 18 yr old who had moved to Sydney also to do the course, who I had met at auditions for another school and we were chatting, then our voice teacher Emily joined us.

she is an amazing woman – travelled in India these holidays with her 2yr old and 5 yr old, has learnt in so many places, complimented my scar and suddenly i was telling her about my life, all of it, the bad stuff that had happened with medications, why i was here and she GOT it, she had been there too (this kind of thing means a lot to me – anyway) so poor Jess is sitting between us possibly terrified by the too crazy** women talking about their children and wondering what the HELL she was doing her when Emily asked us who are favorite actresses were…Jess said Jonny Depp – multiple oohs and Aaahs – I said Naomi Watts and also, even though it was very sad, Heath Ledger (he is and always will be). Thus we began talking about the tragedy of his death and the wonderfulness of his life…. Then Emily told us an amazing story, in a night of amazing stories.
She had met a rather famous actress who was currently over in LA fairly recently, calling her Amy, and Amy had told her this story.

Amy had known Heath Ledger quite well and she and some of his friends had gathered together for a dinner a few weeks after his death.
They had talked and reminisced and rejoiced his life and then his tattoo artist, who was there, began tattooing some people, they wanted something tangible to remember him by – there were butterflies, and doves and Amy (which was how the story had started – emily had asked about her tattoo) Had "I CANB’T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD" tatooed down her arm…
Emily asked why this to remind her of Heath.
and Amy said because that was the last text message he had sent her, spelling error thanks to predictive text.

And I think that THAT is the best tattoo exisiting in the world today. It will make her smile and cry and it is REAL.

I love acting school.

**crazy in the BEST way :)

Neglected blog and First Days

Dear Blog,

I am so sorry that you have been so greatly neglected over the last few weeks. This has been due to many reasons – the main one being I haven’t had the internet to go to your homepage and do the blogs PROPERLY, I haven’t been able to add pretty pictures, and that would leave you underdressed, for this I am sorry.

During this time you have missed a couple of interesting events…First time ever to try and convince a very reluctant Super of building to call out a plumber on Australia Day as toilet was about to overflow – not our doing – but the amount he ranted about cost and how lucky we were to be signed into a twelve month lease so the owner couldn’t raise the rent to have a working toilet – surely they can’t do that, I’m in Sydney, not, I don’t know, an impoverished part of Africa… houses since the 1900′s have had toilets out the back and nightwatchmen..included in the rent I’m sure..but that Australia day i would have been happy to be back in a National Park with a composting toilet – and that takes a lot. (you know my low tolerance for ‘going bush’).

Another First : The invention of the ‘skink game’ wehave no car, therefore have to walk everywhere, with a 8 yr old and 10 yr old in tow – this often takes 20 times longer than neccesary, especially when it is hot, as it is, in summer – thus I invented ‘the skink game" first child to spot 100 skinks gets an icy pole when we get home…everyone knows where we are now as the children barrel down the road shouting "SKINK" every two seconds and rendering the poor sleeping in the sun little lizards premeturely deaf – but it often gets us home, oh, five minuites earlier than if I hadn’t had the bright idea….

Another first – Bub 1 and Bub 2 started at their new school – their uniform combines the yellow of lines painted on the road and the blue of the Sydney bus company – we will not lose them in a crowd. Bub 1 had a brilliant day, Bub 2 not so good – but we shall see how second day goes tomorrow.

Another First – Along has come Chronic Fatigue Syndrome – leaving me exhausted, achey, headachey and nauseous – it is horrible and I don’t know how to cope.

And the final first – I started my much longed for acting course – I had orientation and got given FREE BOOKS – okay – I paid for them, but not when I was given them so they felt free – and everyone there is just so happy to be there – people have moved from Queensland and Far distant parts of the state to be there so it MUST be good, right?

But the biggest first of all? Living for almost a month (or so it feels) with no regular internet. I miss my tweeps, I miss my blog, I miss reading blogs and I hate watching the little graph count down my remaining internet time…get your act together N**Space – I paid you to transfer the internet and I’d like it NOW please – may be going slightly insane from deprivation..
.
So here for you my lovely waiting for me blog is a picture to make you pretty and a post because you have been neglected – lets hope it all shows up on the page…

because we have been seeing black and white butterflies and blue and black butterflies everywhere :)

Am also thinking I cannot call my Bub’s Bubs anymore – at 8 and 10 they just are not – very sad :( any alternate ideas welcome – am thinking "the Monkey" and "Willfull One" at the moment….