Being Happy is Death to Comedy…?

I have a problem. A problem that I had never foreseen being an issue:

I AM HAPPY.

Up until now any comedy writing I had done had been linked to the fact I had been single for so long, yet now I am an in a happy relationship I have found I am stuck for material. No wonder the funniest comedians of the past tended to be depressed alcoholics, they had a wealth of tragedy to draw on for their humour; I am so blocked!!

Now I will say I wouldn’t change my boyfriend for the world, and I do love being in a relationship but I wish I could think of things to write about! My loser-in-love material doesn’t really work when I have been sat holding hands with a boy in the audience throughout the first half of the show.

I was feeling a bit down and artistically stifled until the other day when an interesting thing occurred to me after the third gig of the week: there had been a unusual amount of female acts at these gigs (normally comedy open mics are full of men, generally talking about their ‘members’ with pint in hand) and every single one of these ladies had her own take on being single and a looser – my take was that musicals had clouded my view on relationships. So we (lady comics in a sweeping judgement of the open mic circuit) are actually all doing the same material. This made me think:

IT IS TOO EASY.

Talking about why you’re a looser in life and love is just too easy and should be a given if you are a stand-up comic. So actually although I feel blocked and unable to do my old material, perhaps this is a chance to actually think outside the box a bit and come up with some reasonable material that may actually push me forward as a stand-up rather than just a comedienne trying to get boys laughing at them because they never had much luck with the opposite sex growing up. Which is totally what I was doing.

Any comediennes out there reading this and getting cross at me thinking, “well it’s okay for you Miss Happy, I really am a single loser” I am sorry if I offend, I was one of you for 7 years and it really was the fault of Judy Garland, Doris Day and Gene Kelly. I even spent 20K training in musical theatre and mixing with boys that also loved Judy Garland Doris Day and Gene Kelly but ironically they didn’t have any problem finding boyfriends. £450 and a comedy course later I have met someone very nice (who even won’t mind if I make him watch a musical or two, as long as he has time to get to Selhurst) so I clearly was just barking up the wrong trees for a long time. Yes, I made an analogy there in which I was a dog; maybe I haven’t lost all the self-deprecation after all.

Premature Love-Declaration.

When is the right time to say: ‘I Love You’? When do you know that you actually do? Are there different kinds of love at different points of a relationship?

Now I am not saying I am a Ted Mosby and declare: ‘I Love You’ on the first date, but I have been known to make drunken declarations to boyfriends that I perhaps haven’t been with long enough to justify such an outburst. I blame this, and most of my social problems, on musicals. In musicals you either have love at first sight like Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron in ‘American in Paris’ or indeed Michael seeing Stephanie for the first time in ‘Grease 2’ (don’t judge me on that second example). I used to call musicals ‘those marrying films’ when I was little, I had a love of MGM Golden Era musicals rather than heavy going plots. This fact has coloured my view of the speed of a relationship – you had to meet, fall in love, have a few hiccups (you know, like a crazy farm hand trying to set you on fire in, ‘Oklahoma’, or being incredibly underage in ‘Gigi’, or falling in love with a girl that is really hundreds of years old and living on a magical floating village in Scotland that only appears every 100 years) then reconcile and marry within 90mins. Of course I jest, it’s more like a week in the timeline of the plot (unless it’s ‘Showboat’ where everyone is screwed for decades). But needless to say I have always loved the idea of a whirlwind romance and I do get swept up in my own emotions.

I asked some friends how long they waited until they said they loved their partner and I had a range of answers, one said it took 3 months, another 6 and one was more like 8 or 9 months. I did have one friend say that their partner said it after about 6 weeks and he was surprised but not put off, but that he told them: “as long as you really mean it, say it all you like, although I’m sorry I can’t say it back yet” – it took him 3 weeks more.

What was also interesting in getting people to think about when they first said: ‘I love you’, they then thought about how their feelings had grown and developed since that point – that although the initial lust and excitement that makes you want to declare your love fades into comfortable coupledom, their feelings were now deeper and different to the first time they said, ‘I love you’. One even questioned if they had in fact ‘loved’ the person at the time they first said it because their feelings were so much deeper now.

My Mum used to upset me as a little girl by telling me she wasn't 'in love' with my Dad any more but she did love him. She equated being 'in love' to 'soppy, romantic feelings' that 'can't last' but it fades to a stronger love, a love of friendship and companionship for your partner in the truest sense of the word. In other cases when this first flush of love fades sometimes the rose-tinted glasses come off and you are left with something, sadly, not quite as beautiful.

I love you, maybe

So, how do you pin-point it; when do you know that you truly love that person? Do you love in different ways throughout your relationship? Is it when you realise you can’t stop thinking about them, or when you realise they are the ‘the one’, or only when you think you would die for the person?! My musicals background should make me think it is something you only realise and declare in dire circumstances, after overcoming great obstacles and always done with a huge romantic gesture. But upon hearing one friend tell me she declared her love for the first time quietly as a whisper to her half-sleeping boyfriend mid-cuddle, there are perhaps better ways to do it than as a result of a near-death experience covered in sweat and tears with an orchestra playing in the background.

It is hard to know when to tell the other person too, you may know them very well, but it is the one area that you are never 100% of how they will react and what impact that may have on the status quo of your relationship. I have sometimes found myself swallowing an ‘I love you’ to a partner, even when I have just meant ‘ahh you’re amazing, I love you!!’ as an exclamation of happiness that I may say to any friend. Is this perhaps going a bit far just to not rock the boat?

When I was a teenager I used to test the waters with boyfriends with the good old: 'I luv you' - 'Luv' didn't seem as intimidating as it's properly spelt cousin and they couldn't get weirded out by you saying 'love' as it would be them over-reacting as you didn't actually say it...?! Now wonderful smart phones give us the ability to use emoticons to express how we feel without committing to strong feelings. I have friends that test the waters with little pictures of hearts rather than saying 'I love you' or indeed '*picture of a heart* you' - this can be made even less threatening by turning the 'you' into a 'u'. Just never put an 'I' at the beginning, that is going too far obviously - that is the line clearly. PLUS, if they get weirded out you can just saying you were doing the Paris Hilton type thing where they literately say 'I heart' such and such. Stops them in their tracks. Starting to think that I over-think this stuff.


I don’t think I can form any answers to my musings but I know whenever I get a bit tiddly I will profess my love again to whoever is nearby; I just hope at some point I mean it and that the other person says it back. And that it isn’t a lamp post.

Why I Wish Life Was More Like Musicals Part 2

If life was more like musicals we would all look like this on our wedding day:

Why I Wish Life Was More Like Musicals Part 1

If Life Was Like Musicals: Cowboys would have colour coordinated shirts and long, silky scarves:

But alas they look like this:

The Book of Faces

So today I, against my better judgement, put my relationship status on Facebook. 'Why does this qualify for a blog post, especially considering you haven't blogged in so long Marinda?' I hear you cry. It just got me thinking about how social media has turned relationships into this weird status symbol - pun intended. For years I have refused to even show the relationship status bit on my profile feeling that, not only did it not sum up who I was, but also it is private information that shouldn't matter to my friend's mums and that person I worked with once on a promotion. There is also one big reason not to have your status on there though...what if it all goes wrong? Breaking up is a horrible thing let alone to have the added pain of changing your Facebook status so some person you worked with once can console you with a colon and an open bracket. Don't even get me started on the nasty people that break up with people by changing relationship status - this blog is not for them, stop reading if this is you. They probably can't read anyway. People do think it is odd if you don't update your status though, 'are you ashamed of him?', *knowing look* 'are you not sure about it?' *knowing look* or when indeed they find out you have a boyfriend, 'oh I didn't see it on Facebook?' *upward inflection and hurt tone*. I have noticed a trend for announcing engagements on social media, perhaps even with just a picture of a ring on a hand - I am not sure how I feel about his but I guess it is cheaper than 'save the date' cards. 'So why have you done it, Marinda?' Yes well...now that a huge picture of my face has appeared on his profile and vice versa with huge lettering announcing our coupledom with many people 'liking' his fact I am wondering what possessed me. I guess I just feel sure of our relationship after being together for a few months, and I did wonder if it bothered him that we hadn't put it up on Facebook as it does seem to be the done thing; maybe he was one of the people asking if I was ashamed of him although he would never say so. I am slightly flattered people have bothered to 'like' this happening, but I realise I am small fry considering the amount of engagements being announced every day by my friends. Despite this, I am happy with my little achievement. Even if every time I go on our 'timelines' it is there for all to see stretched across the page as breaking news. Ah well a couple more updated statuses and 'shared' memes and it will be yesterday's news, pushed down into the ether of 'Timeline'.

Branding your face...

...not with a hot poker or anything.

I am currently on a course that is covering everything you need to know about marketing yourself. This has resulted in my trying out every font imaginable to really see what encapsulates 'me' to the point where I have written my name out so many times it neither looks like my own name nor even recognisable words anymore.

This is one of the things I hate about being an actor: how incredibly self involved and pretentious is this whole process?! I have been staring at my CV and headshot all week looking at layouts and I keep thinking of all the writing I could have done during this time - I have a whole host of sketches eating away at my frontal lobes giving me a comedy lobotomy at the moment.

It's all so expensive too. I have been out of work for a while, so I need to focus my career and in turn perhaps make money, but I need to spend money on marketing material to hook perhaps a new agent and definitely show myself to casting directors - I refer to this as the Vicious, Impossible Cycle of the Entertainer - or VICE - which is what I'm gonna have to turn to soon just to pay for fricken business cards and headed paper...

Impro

Last week I played an impro game called 'Yes Let's' with a group of 5-7 year olds. The game is quite simple as you shout out somewhere exciting to go, for instance, "Let's go to the moon!", everyone shouts "Yes Let's!" and we mime going off to the moon etc. After a few goes I started taking ideas from the audience as it were:

"Johnny, were do you think we should go next?!"
Johnny's 6 year old face turned from pleasure to surprise to constipation; "...er...." "never mind Johnny I will come back to you. Hannah, where are we going next?"
"Let's go to the land of sweets!"
"Yes Let's!" everybody chants and off we go on our mime to eat some sweets.
"Johnny got any ideas yet?"
"....oh...ummm..." the pain of his brain trying to think of something exciting coming across his face.
"It's okay Johnny I will come back to you! Brandon where shall we go?"
"Let's go swimming!"
"Yes Let's!" And off we all go swimming around the room.
"Right Johnny do you have an idea now?"
"...ummmm....Let's all....get in a box?"
"...yes...let's..." the class utter, confused but compliant.

Now you could argue that considering the imaginative premise of the game that Johnny was actually thinking "outside the box" metaphorically speaking; but from the look on his face I could see that the pressure of being creative on the spot was enough to reduce him to wanting to get into a mimed box and rock there.
And that is what he did.

I wonder if politicians were like Johnny at 6...

TFL

The F does not stand for 'For' as I discovered this week.

I don't mind trains normally. They are a reasonably less stressful alternative to driving around the city and they get you where you want to go...most of the time. Last weekend was a small exception.

The Met line had work on between Harrow and Baker Street but, ya know, all was okay as the blessed Chiltern Line was on and even running extra trains as that's the kind of stand-up organisation they are. They are normally my salvation after a long day auditioning, or taking classes rather than taking the bumpy Met line surrounded by grammatically challenged graffiti.

On this particular evening I had enjoyed some comedy by Adam Buxton on the South Bank and I was making my way back to Marylebone when I received a text alert letting me know Chiltern Railways had severe delays so "don't travel unless you have to". Well I had to. And 'delays' just means they are going but delayed right? Oh no, this is not the definition currently held by Chiltern Railways; when I got to Marylebone the trains were all cancelled. Bugger.

A grumpy, vocationally challenged Customer Service Assistant stood advising people that if they needed to get back to Gerrards Cross, High Wycombe, Beaconsfield etc then they were paying for taxis to get you home. However if you were wanting Amersham or Chesham, plus any of the stops along the way, to hold on there in the station as they were going to run a solitary train to Harrow for us to pick up the Met Line. Apparently all the signals looked like disco lights and kept flicking between red and green, hence knowing they could now run just the one train on the tracks.

I decided to hedge my bets by flitting between the taxi rank and the station concourse, thinking if a taxi could get me as far as I could go for free I would pay the rest - I just wanted to get home by this point.

As I reached the taxi queue, I say queue I really mean 'bunch' quickly turning into 'mob', it was close to going tribal as they certainly weren't appreciative of the man with the clipboard as their leader. A woman desperately shouted at the man that she needed to get to Seer Green; as if none of the 30-odd people around her wanted to get to their home.

A taxi finally approaches as the group of men, women and children grows to 40 strong. The driver tells the man with the clipboard that he is destined for Gerrards Cross. "Seer Green!" shouts the woman from the middle of the crowd as if the driver got it wrong, I suspect she is a fan of the persuasive techniques of Derren Brown.
Several people silently, with daggers in their eyes, place their hands in the air for Gerrards Cross, climb in the taxi and leave us mere mortals. Another comes along: "Anyone for Beaconsfield?" "That's next to Seer Green!!" Several more hands go up and reach the car before this mad lady can push through. She is about 40, well dressed and I would hazard a guess she would refer to herself as a 'Yummy Mummy'. I leave for the station concourse, not wishing to hear any more.

I am walking up to the platforms when I half hear a, slightly jollier, Customer Service Representative defusing a hostile take-over. He is explaining to some grumpy commuters about the situation before leaving to find out the latest news.

I was stood by a smug-looking, bespectacled 50-something year old man who was apprehending a slightly confused looking South American girl. "Where do you need to go?" he enquired loudly and clearly as if she were a deaf, 70 year old.
"Oh um.. Rickmansworth" she replied in almost accent-less English.
"Ah...you need to ask the man with the clipboard"
"Yes it doesn't look like my train is running any more"
"Yes you need to talk to the man with the clipboard" he said loudly and slowly, this time accompanied with a patronising mime. "I'm going back home to Aylesbury"
Silence from the girl.
"Have you ever been to Aylesbury?" the man continues.
"Er no I don't think so..."
"Oh you should it's just lovely. A beautiful place is Aylesbury" he tells the exotic beauty who is probably from a place that is so beautiful it would have bullied Aylesbury had they been to school together.

Who actually says that about where they live? And about somewhere that is a big development building site at present and for the next few years? Yes a lovely new theatre has been built there but without a car park and next to a building site for Waitrose. Rio it is not.

I am ashamed to say I had a certain amount of pleasure knowing that if this girl held on a few more minutes for the train I was to get on, she would easily get to Rickmansworth on the Met Line. Mr Smug Aylesbury was screwed.

We eventually made it onto the train towards Harrow and whilst sat there I remembered a conversation I had overheard on the way in where the man sat in front of me actually said the word 'Width' 24 times in one minute. I kid you not.

"It's like a length but shorter. Wid-th. Wi-d-th. No not 'with'; Width! W, I, D, T, H." And on the hilarity ensued.

I couldn't tell if he was on the phone or talking to the poor girl sat in front of him, but the conversation then went onto him explaining the wonders of buying vegetables on the market:

"Honestly it is the most economical way to get your vegetables. My friend has a big family, and he buys them on the market for not just his family but another family too and you wouldn't believe what he gets for £20. You can get carrots and onions and broccoli..."
Already I am wishing I had investing in noise cancellation headphones. Is this man really going to slowly recall every vegetable he knows?! Oh yes he is. Luckily for all of us on the carriage he ran out after four types and went back to carrots. Carrots came up three more times in this conversation. I could feel myself start to rock.

So back to my late night journey home and I have made it to Harrow on the Hill. An hour later than I had expected, but I was halfway home. I am told to go to platform 2 where the next train that will get me back to my car isn't for another 20 mins at 23:47. I sit reading my SFX magazine for a while and a guard comes up to me and asks: "Are you waiting for a train to Amersham?"
"Yes Amersham" I simply reply.
He looks at me, slightly concerned and asks: "not any further along the line then? You don't want to go to Aylesbury?"
It took every fibre of my being not to say: "I've heard it's lovely"
What is with people and Aylesbury?!!

Finally the train rocks up and we sit in the cold carriage awaiting our safe return home.
And time ticks on...we are still sat there.
The driver announces that this is the 23:59, which granted is only 12 minutes later than we had previously been told by the guard on the platform, but it is the last straw when you hoped to be home an hour before and it is freezing sat on a train with all the doors open for 12 minutes.
A confused lady makes her way past me to the driver's open door and asks:
"What time is this train going?"
"It's an eleven fifty-nine train" he said in a very hostile tone and standing to his full height over this diminutive lady.
"Sorry I was only asking" replied the lady;
"Humph!" growled back the driver.

We surely have a transport system second to none.

Applecart

So last week I went to the Apple Cart festival in Bethnal Green just as rioting was gripping our capital.

The trip was a bit last minute after chatting to my friend Lucy in the morning and deciding to pop in to meet her and her boyfriend. I had actually flirted with the idea of open toe shoes, jovially laughing at the silly people on Twitter discussing the practicality of wellies; oh how stupid was I...?

I may point out at this juncture that I'm not exactly a girly girl: a singing teacher actually once said, whilst trying to sort my character 'type' based on clothing style and personality that I'm not exactly a tomboy but I am "rather boyish"; therefore I'm not a tomboy which is a girl that is a bit boyish, oh no I am actually 'boy-like' - thanks.

I decided to go in cloth 'Babycham' trainers which ended up covered in mud: IDIOT. I spent half my time jumping over puddles and walking like I was wearing 6" heels, trying to not slide over and having horrible flash-back visions of an incident when I was 9 and I fell in a big muddy puddle, caking my beautiful blue duffle coat *Shudders*.

As well as moaning about the mud I REFUSED to use the port-a-loos. Even when I found the much nicer ones hidden in the quite posh 'folk music' area (why was that?!) Luckily I have the bladder of a camel. Not in a jar or anything.

It may sound to you that I just moaned all the time, au contre! I had great fun being out with adults for a change, although I did feel a bit of a disproving granny about the constant smell of weed everywhere. It was a family festival so kids were running about and I had an internal struggle with feeling all teacher-like and protective of the children around all the druggy-ness, juxtaposed with the desperate need to be as far from a child as possible on a day off. Every time I heard a jolly laugh or moan from a small person I wanted to dash in the other direction. Don't get me wrong, I do really love performing at parties and teaching children but my word I do not envy parents. I know I probably will change my mind soon enough - my friend Louise is very pregnant right now and she is convinced that I will end up with my equivalent of the Von Trapps. Hmmm I think 7 maybe a bit too many thanks very much.

I watched, amongst others: Tim Minchin, Jon Richardson and the very clever Abandoman, Irish impro hip-hoppers.

I did see an alarming amount of very 'loved-up' couples - I think the sunny weather brings them out. Now I normally would be oblivious to this in the same way that (bad analogy alert) someone over the age of 12 would walk past alphabetti spaghetti in the supermarket without noticing it; you had a it a while ago but you kind of grew out of it and got busy. But seeing it all around I started to wonder, what's so bad about pasta shaped like letters? Why do I choose hoops? I bet they taste the same. (Actually reading back this weak analogy I think it makes me sound like I had chosen to be a lesbian and now thinking of turning straight again which isn't actually my point). What I mean is I have been single for a long time. A long, long time. Out of no more reason than I've been a bit busy. At least I think that's the reason; it's been so long I don't really know why. At the festival there were couples just everywhere, including some incredibly new babies, and I did actually start to think, "am I missing out on something?".

All the romance of the day quickly faded though as, at one point whilst trying to watch Tim Minchin, I was treated to some inappropriate groping happening between a couple stood in front of me. That took the shine off it.

Edinburgh Blues

Well...it's that time again, the Edinburgh festival is here. I usually go every year and spend my days pretty much in the Traverse watching new writing. This year, alas, I cannot afford it. It wouldn't be so bad if it was not being referenced EVERYWHERE. It's like breaking up with someone and having to see them everywhere you go - am I being overly dramatic? A bit. Next year, though Edinburgh, I'm all over you.

The Perfect Shuffle Part 2

I forgot to add to my little story of joy from yesterday: I had to go shopping - now anyone knowing me will be aware I'm not the best shopper, not enough patience and I don't really like the general public, especially those that go to the certain shopping mall I happened to be on on Saturday (yes I'm snobby I know, my Grammar school had ponies, it's just the kind of girl I am, deal with it* I have been told to make an amendment here and just state my tongue is firmly in my cheek, and also that they were fat little ponies that I never went near!) but anyway I needed a bag with a proper strap and the one I had been lusting over for a few months was on sale from £35 to £26. Now I'm such a penny-pincher when it comes to this kind of thing I was umming and ahhing until I threw caution to the wind! I get up to the till, I buy said bag and it's....only a tenner!!! A dance of joy immediately followed, and considering this is a kind of emo-come-goth shop I fear it may be the first and last time this happens there.

Right! Now onto the next painful task of finding a wallet. Still at the age of 26 I tend to rely on 'Claire's Accessories' to supply me with a cheap PVC one that doesn't really close properly but is big enough to hold all my rubbish plus not cost the stupidly high prices of real 'lady' shops. For the two instances I have had to buy a wallet in the past approximately 8 years I have managed to find something on sale to suit my needs.
I browse round 'New Look' only to come across the PERFECT wallet for me- everything I'm looking for in size, compartments and colour. I have been looking for such a wallet for a year and yet I glace the price tag and it says £16.99. I'm sorry but I have never been prepared to part with that kind of money in New Look, cheap as I sound. Where do they get off charging such prices.
Again I umm and ahh and my Mum says, "Oh just get it, you won't find another", "Yeah but Mum, honestly I have never spent more than £6 on a wallet - I just don't know". "For goodness sakes get in the queue girl, we need to get home for the dogs." So, begrudgingly, I get into the annoyingly long queue awaiting my turn to greet the surly shop assistant. When I get to her, I hand over the wallet and reach into my bag for my credit card, muttering to myself all the while. Out of the corner of my eye I see the price on the till display...no it can't be..."That will be £6 madam"

My Favourite Joke

So the BBC have decided to do a TV show based on the comedian's favourite jokes, mainly from the comedy greats such as Morecombe and Wise, Pete and Dud etc. And they have decided the best, most appropriate time slot is 11:05pm on a Friday night?! This is almost as annoying as the stupidly annoying editing that has been conducted on said programme in which the comedians talking about each sketch interrupt the footage and spoil the joke. Well done BBC. I have nothing against listing to these comedians speaking about their idols but STOP QUOTING THE JOKES AND LET US WATCH THEM.

I have decided to add in my favourite jokes today

'Andrew Preview' Sketch with Morecombe and Wise

Vitameatavegemin from I Love Lucy

Jeff has too many legs in Coupling

Hiphopopotomus

Roller Skating with Frank Spencer Although I could have chosen so many of these for the sheer braveness of doing all his own stunts.

The Man Drawer Sketch Michael Mcintyre

Dead Parrot of course

Ken Dodd is equally someone you could use anything from The same as Tommy Cooper.

I dare say the best Two Ronnie's sketch although there is so much to choose from

I do love the series 'How I Met Your Mother' but that isn't so much jokes as brillaintly written series. Sometimes the Big Bang Theory has excellent Set-ups and Pay-Offs.

Daniel Kitson's story shows have to be some of the most beautiful and hilarious pieces of theatre I've ever seen and I URGE anyone with the chance to see him to SEE HIM.

Night all,

Mx

P.S. I almost forgot about Danny Kaye and this brilliant sequence from The Court Jester

The Perfect Shuffle

'Every day I'm shuffling'
WELL today is a day of note. Today is a day of the perfect shuffle. No I'm not talking about those crazy LMFAO chaps but of the dangerous world of the ipod's shuffle function. I say dangerous because as anyone who uses their ipods for work, namley teaching children, will know there is a whole chunk of music on that thing that you do not want to be stuck listening to on a crowded, standing room only train when you can't reach your ipod to skip or, indeed, just can't be bothered. I know this sounds vaguely lazy, and maybe it is, but the perfect shuffle is without the need to skip tracks and it is incredibly rare with the ticking time-bomb that is my itunes music library. I could be one minute listening to something great and the next minute I may have to contend with, 'The Wheels on the Bus' or anything from Hannah Montana's oeuvre. This being said, of course I have some guilty pleasures on there. The first that springs to mind is he soundtrack to 'Summer Holiday'; I'm sorry you try listening to that album and not gain a spring in your step for the day ahead.
So today I am on the train and I decide, "Why not? Let's try the shuffle function, I haven't dabbled in a while, what's the worst that can happen?" On comes the first song...'No Scrubs' by TLC, Oh My Word I have not heard this song in years! I have instantly been transported to being a teenager again, bliss. Next up, Ash 'Oh Yeah' and Oh Yeah I am staying in my teenage years and I'm happy until up pops 'Rebel Rebel' David Bowie - Oh I could not have planned it any better unless it was Magic Dance from the Labyrinth soundtrack. This is going too well though - surely a skip is going to be in need soon...but no here we go, 'BOOM SHAKE THE ROOM'! I'm already planning the celebration blog of which you are reading when up pops, 'Spiderwebs': No Doubt, 'Set You Free': N-Trance, 'Don't Look Back into the Sun': The Libertines and then only to finish on the 10minute version of 'Bat out of Hell' by Meat Loaf. A 'No Skip Day' and apparently, I later hear on the radio, today is the 'happiest day of the year'.

Return of the Mack

Return of the Mack, Return of the Mack....
Guess who's back...back again... and other songs about returning! I am back in the world of blogging and I have chosen both the criminals Mark Morrison and Eminem to speak for me as we share such a close affinity. So the last time I 'blogged' I was off for a singing job in Norfolk in Christmas 2009 and all was well, a pretty devastating bereavement then occurred and that was it for blogging for me; it felt trivial. Until Now.

So almost two years on from my last blog, but what have you missed? Well where to start, where to start...the rowdy pensioners starting fights during my speed-awareness course? The child that told me 'we should be happy with what we've got because some people don't have a home and can't even speak properly'? I could launch straight into the incident of the time I was waiting to go into an audition and started chatting with a part-time actor-come-community support officer who decided to explain to me about the tricky-ness of finding those pesky severed heads after decapitation from jumping in front of trains. Hmmm maybe more of that later.

The thing that has sparked my engine, as it were, was reading Jon Richardson's 'It's Not Me, It's You' WELL, talk about 'Killing Me Softly' (and no I don't actually want anyone to actually talk about that stupid song: 'yes apparently it's about Barry Manilow', 'oh how interesting', 'he used to play for Bette Midler, didn't he?', 'Oh I love her, she's fabulous') I could identify with a lot of this book, although I'm only half way - there could be a big twist as yet and it could all be a dream or he was dead all the time, but I doubt it. Now obviously anyone knowing me and knowing something of the comedian Jon Richardson would say, "WTF?!" (they would say full words, obviously, but I don't like bad language on my blog thank you very much) "Jon Richardson is quite obviously incredibly clean and tidy and if we remember your room in Uni/drama school correctly it somewhat resembled the junk yard the scary lady in Labyrinth lived in, minus Sarah's replica house."
Ok I will give you that, BUT what I did feel a similarity with was not just his discomfort in the discussing of bodily functions - THANK GOD SOMEONE IS FINALLY SPEAKING OUT ON THIS HORRENDOUS OCCURANCE IN POPULAR CULTURE; neither was it because of his neuroses (I have recently started my own party business and I have to take two of everything: double the amount of balloons and prizes, two iPods, two Ipod docks plus back up Cds and player plus on top of this I not only pack all my equipment the night before, I then check it all 5 times before setting off and half way down my road, I pull over and check it through again as, whilst driving, I have convinced myself I'm missing something vital that will ruin this 6 year old's party and it will forever be my fault that this child then needs psychiatric help and doesn't grow up to be a happy, well-rounded human being all because of the disappointment that was her 6th birthday party) - but for the simple fact he has been single for many years due to the search for perfection in everything he does. This I get.

I have had relationships in the past that have been good for a while, but then gone south. I then have had a long period of time that I have devoted to my career and it's been ok; the media would make you believe I am a complete sad-case, or that I have emotional issues, but really it's been a mixture of not being all that bothered and not meeting anyone I have liked enough to pursue anything. This would be firstly because most of my male friends are gay and secondly, and most importantly, I am seeking something that probably is impossible. Any readers of this blog will know I place most of the blame on Jane Austen, Teen Films and Musicals but is this so bad? TV would make you think that a romantic drought of 2 months is shocking, I think this is misleading and unfair; try 6 years. I might point out at this juncture that in no way do I require pity - you may all be fabulously in-love out there but I'm just happy waiting it out to meet someone that's right for me, I have other things to keep me occupied in the meanwhile - which seems to be Richardson's point (although I haven't got to the end yet so I'm not sure quite what his ramberling point is, if there is one). You may also be wondering, 'Marinda, what is your point?' Well, dear readers, I guess it's a kind of round about way to say read Jon Richardson's book, I found it really refreshing to find I'm not on my own, especially when it comes to a love and demand of proper grammar and the distrust of menus with incorrect apostrophes. He also is not a fan of B&Bs and having to make awkward breakfast chit-chat - I know this may surprise a lot of you as I am Little Miss ChatterboxTM during most hours of the day and was only complemented this week on my excellent telephone manner, but this is probably one of my top ten hated things, ERGH!

The Quest for Stardom

It was about a year ago that I had my showcase at the end of my time at drama school. Lots of things have happened - maybe not as many big things as I would have liked - but lots of things. I found something i wrote at the time that makes me realise thank God I'm not back there again:

It has been three days since I had my London Showcase – symbolising the end of my acting training and the start of my career. I am back in my home town; at the first theatre I ever performed in dressed in a colourful ‘Andy Pandy’esque outfit with brightly coloured make up sat at the side of the stage wondering if this really is: ‘showbiz’. I have been a children’s party clown for years and years: a fun Saturday job for my teenage self and now a suitable stop-gap whilst waiting for my ‘big-break’. The company also puts on theatre shows and I have been roped into performing in an anniversary performance under the slight pretence “all the old guys will be back”. A grand total of two out of approximately twenty have turned up and I am left wondering if I’m a bit soft...

Until 5:40pm yesterday I had not a single call from an agent and I was feeling pretty worried. Other members of my group (generally male) had various calls as soon as we had come of stage, yet all I had was a concerned feeling as in my head I had thought, “I am AWESOME, people will be clamouring to sign me if these other guys are having interest”. Thankfully an agent I had met previously as a mock interview through my drama school the previous month was still interested and wanted me to meet them again the following Tuesday. Of course since then I have been worrying that the other agents will wait until next week to get in contact and I will have already given this one an answer! I have luckily since snapped out of it, realising that firstly this one hasn’t actually offered as yet and secondly, the phone is not ringing...

Clueless

Working with kids is a weird thing as, despite only being in my early/mid twenties I start referencing pop culture from when I was a teen and I get blank faces from the teens I'm teaching. I never got it when adults would roll their eyes when it was me not getting the reference and now it's happening the other way around a bit too quick for my likening. I've just watched Clueless again and I'm shocked to see it was first out 14 years ago. Yes 14 years!!!! I know that the rest of my life now is going to be full of weird moments like this and I don't like it....

M x

Sister Act:: Rise of the Understudy

On Monday Night I saw Sister Act the Musical. It's good. Not amazing, but good fun. A very expensive looking pantomime really. But Debbie Kurup who was on for Patina Miller (who I think is on holiday) was AMAZING! I've seen Debbie in all sorts of shows before and she is always a stand out but she was just fantastic in this. Thankfully they didn't bother doing the announcement at the beggining that Patina wasn't on as I cannot stand the obnoxious groan and moan you hear from the general public in the audience (notice how I distance myself from them lol). Google Debbie Kurup everyone - she's fab.

M x

Temping Tuesdays

ARGHHH teaching is not my calling. It is not to say I'm not good at it or indeed I don't enjoy it sometimes but it is not what God put me on this earth to do. I actually treat my teaching as not 'just a job' but something that I feel is worthwhile - until yesterday.
I teach all ages acting and singing after school but yesterday not only did I have a parent moaning that she didn't understand why they need to warm up before singing but I had a group of 14 -16 year olds that admitted that they probably couldn't find 15 minutes during their week to look at lyrics of a song for the following class... WHY DO WE BOTHER?????!

The End. Now I have to go and work with 1 year olds at a creche...

A Little Rant...

This week I have admittedly watched a lot of E4, which as we know results in watching the same American dramas all day on a loop. It does also mean that you have to listen to that dreadful announcer man who thinks it's hilarious to use the word 'ruddy' in every sentence but this week he didn't just take the biscuit - he took the whole 'ruddy' tin!

Background info:
I am absolutely mad about the American series, 'How I Met Your Mother'. It's tag line is 'A Love Story in Reverse' and so you are watching just that - the lead character, Ted, telling his children in the fututre how he met their mother. It's very cleverly written as not only can you watch any of the episodes as one off funny programs- if you watch all the episodes from every season they are intricately weaved together so, for instance, something mentioned in season one may now be explained properly until season three. A normal sitcom can't do this as it would have a pool of writers and different director each episode - this doesn't happen with How I Met Your Mother as it's always the same team.

Why am I furious?
WELL. The stupid advert for How I Met Your Mother is a ridiculous negative advertising ploy to say that 'it's just like Friends' and you've seen it all before. Firstly this is not true and Secondly why on earth do that think that would make people watch it- if they have spent money on buying the program in for E4, why on earth demean it with it's advertising??? I wrote to channel 4 yesterday and gave them a piece of my mind on it and aparently the email will be passed to the appropriate people. They are such IDIOTS!

Mx

The Quest for Stardom

My word I have become Slack Alice. I apologise for not writing for ages then I follow it by not writing for ages. So what's been going on?
I attended a course on new musical theatre which was really good, I directed Little Women the Broadway Musical in a week then went to visit Bath and Cornwall and now I am back and about to record a demo CD. Thunderbirds are GO!

Bath is amazing - I just hope the next time I am there it is because I am filming a period drama! And I hope Rupert Penry Jones is near by....

Talking of which he was in the dire 'Match Point' last night - for ONE whole scene! Oh Rups!! Mind you I think i would take a part with one scene to be opposite the beautiful Johnathan Rhys Meyers. Although I would have to hold back the laughter from the terrible acting. Shouting does not a King of England make.

Anyway enough of this nonsense. Everyone must take notice of a fabulous young composer called Michael Bruce. He worked with us on my course and he is destined for great things - there is a concert of his work in London on November 1st which I won't get to see as I'll be in Norfolk working but please go!!

New headshots came through this week - I'm really happy with them but my word where are I finding the money??? Becoming an actor is so expensive....