“Your value does not decrease based of someone’s inability to see your worth.”

Lately I’ve been feeling pretty down. I don’t have a job at the moment and the fact I have nothing to occupy my time, no income and no way of paying the bills that I have has started to get to me so I thought I would write down how I’m feeling and see if that made me feel any better. You know, get it out there rather than have it all bottled up.

So it started at the end of the last year. I work as a seasonal tour guide and absolutely love it (didn’t think I would, but I do) and I was going for a promotion there which would have secured me with a more permanent contract rather than only having work for about 6 months of the year. Unfortunately, contrary to everybody I worked with’s thoughts’s, I did not get the job I was going for which was the start of the downward spiral thing I’m in just now. I started getting really frustrated and resenting the people that were responsible for not giving me the job so decided that maybe it was the kick up the bum that I needed to actually do something I really want to do. 

I tried to put a positive spin on the situation, but almost two months later and I am really losing that positive spin. It’s difficult to keep it when you are constantly being rejected for jobs that you are more than qualified to do. This is at application and interview stage. It starts to make you doubt yourself quite a bit. One of the worst things I’ve had to endure the last couple of months is, “your interview was excellent, unfortunately we cannot offer you the position.” I know that they are trying to make you feel better by saying this, but lets face it - it doesn’t make you feel better. All it does is cement in your head the fact that your best just isn’t good enough.

A friend had posted something on Facebook yesterday which was just one of those “motivational” quote things which I don’t normally pay all that much attention to, but this one stuck out for me:

“Your value does not decrease based of someone’s inability to see your worth.”

so I decided this was going to be my mantra. Feeling down? Tell yourself this until you feel better. The problem is it isn’t helping. The reason, I think, it’s not working is because I am both parties in the statement. It’s gotten to the point where I cannot see my worth. If you’re told you’re not good enough for long enough you’ll start to believe it. And I have.

So it’s gotten to the point where I stay in bed until the afternoon. Sometimes I’ll shower, but more often than not it’s just easier to stay in my pyjamas. I spend pretty much the entire day alone because it’s just easier than having to pretend that I’m in a good mood or trying to put a positive spin on yet another rejection. I realised last week that I hadn’t left the house in 7 days and of those 7 days I probably only shower 3 or 4 times. And I am constantly missing friends because when I moved back home to my parents two years ago it meant I had to move 200 miles away from all my friends so any time I want to see them it actually needs planning.

I know there isn’t any structure to this and it really is just a bit of a wallow in self pity, but as I said at the beginning I just wanted to write down how I’m feeling and just put it out there. If I’m honest I don’t think it’s made me feel much better, but I have been looking at that quote in bold writing for the entire time I’ve been writing this so I’m hoping there is some subliminal thing going on and I’ll snap out of this soon.

That’s really all I have to say at the moment. All I was going for was the whole “a problem shared is a problem halved” thing.

Student Again

Soooooooo…it looks like I’m moving to London this year.  “Déjà vu” I hear you say? Yes, but this time I’m going no matter what.  I have been accepted (again) to CSSD, but the only difference is this year it is an outright place as opposed to on the reserves and having to wait months to find out what my fate is. 

I have had quite a hectic time of it this year – what with auditions almost every month of the year.  This has led to quite a stressful year, but there have been quite a few up sides.  Firstly, I got to go to London…a lot.  Secondly, I found heaven in the form of a night at the theatre seeing Ghost the Musical.  Did that one both times I was down and let me tell you, it was a major cry-snot fest both times. And most importantly…I got to see my wife!!!  She moved down to London at the beginning of the year and since leaving uni I haven’t been able to see her every day of the year for at least 19 hours a day.  This has been quite a shock to the system let me tell you, but not the last couple of months. Back to inappropriate accents (especially for multi-cultural London), inappropriate conversations - mainly a lot of innuendo over a Valentine’s day dinner (amazing what a creepy ;) in a text can do) and very loud bedtimes, but not in that way (get your minds out of the gutter).

It’s gotten to that point where I’m thinking, “Christ, you literally have nothing to say.  Why are you writing this?” And then it goes onto, “Why did you write that? People don’t care about your inner ramblings!” But, I digress. Although it is true, I don’t really have much to say.  I have been living extremely quietly up in Dingwall (when I’m not down in London). Working in a call centre which is an absolute hoot let me tell you.  There’s nothing I like more than being abused on a daily basis by ignorant so and so’s.  But I can’t really say much about that for fear of getting fired if I do.  And as I may have mentioned I need to save all the pennies I can because I was accepted to CSSD.  Ah yes, I did mention that.  Never mind. 

Well, I think I’ll leave it short and sweet this time.  I have a feeling I may be updating you all with the goings on of the search for funding as it could be a long few months, but that’s just something for you all to look forward to.  I bet you are waiting with bated breath.

Don’t.

Home

I’m back.  You’re probably thinking:

“My goodness, he hasn’t done anything in ages.”

And you’d be right in every sense. 

My life has just been one huge adventure since graduating and I am about to tell all. Here goes.  The day after graduation I moved out of my flat in Glasgow (nice big city, lots to do, many friends and a great job there) and back home with my parents in Dingwall (tiny town, nothing to do, no friends and unemployment).  As you can probably tell my excitement at this was immeasurable - mainly because it was non existent. 

Now don’t get me wrong, being at home with my family is lovely.  Proper dinners, actual heating instead of extra layers, clothes getting washed etc. and obviously spending time with them all.  The problem is, I used to only see them about once a month and I used to look forward to it, but when you are spending all your time with them you realise the saying is true – absence really does make the heart grow fonder. 

Another thing I dislike about Dingwall is the fact it took me about 2 months to get a job…in a call centre. 

“What are you doing with your degree, Raymond? Oh, I work in a call centre.”

Not exactly what I had in mind when I started uni. It also couldn’t be any further from the theatre if it tried either.  No drama, not much hilarity and there are never any musicals on. But, I have to remember it is just a stop-gap to get me to London in September. Yes you observant lot, it appears I shall be re-auditioning for postgrads again because nobody wanted to give me any money last year to go. Shocking.

This state of affairs has led me to drink around about a bottle of wine each night now. Up side - it’s not binging if you do it every night; downside – it’s verging on alcoholism.  Another upside is I very rarely feel hung-over the next day now. Score.

I’m getting to that point where I have nothing else to tell you again.  I told you I’d done lots since moving back home. Get up, work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat. I literally cannot contain myself.  Well, I’m off.  If anything exciting happens I shall let you know, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.

Post Graduation

So, as per usual, it has been a long time since I have told you what is going on in my life.  Well, the big old graduation has been and gone, I am no longer a student.  I’m now merely an unemployed person.  Great.  Job hunting has been a lot of fun, let me tell you.  It’s always good to apply to hundreds of jobs and get rejections from almost every one of them.  Then you get the joy of that one interview.  This could be it.  A job is within your reach.  Then you go to the interview and all you words appear to trip up between your brain and your mouth and there just appears to be a devastating pile up when they come out.  Suffice it to say I did not get that job, especially after my weird exclamation that my desk would be neat because I like all my items to be at right angles to the edge of the desk.  If that isn’t a factor that says employ me this instant I don’t know what is.

On a slightly brighter note, you may remember me going for an audition in London for a music theatre postgrad.  Well, having gone months without hearing anything and assuming that it was a big fat no, I got an offer to start in September on Friday.  This is an amazing achievement for me and I couldn’t be happier, unfortunately while I thought it was a no I did nothing about funding so I have no money to pay tuition fees and live.  Now I am frantically emailing and phoning any organisation that may give me money.  Not going to well so far given I started on a Saturday.  Lets hope somebody will come through and help.  This is something I cannot give up on before I have even started yet because of something as simple as having no money. 

I have even started looking for flat shares which is getting me extremely excited.  It can also be quite amusing given some of the requirements: Smoking – fine, student – fine, DSS – fine, but you must be South Indian.  OK.  Well, now that I have started my weird ramble again I have realised I have nothing else to say so you are, once again, going to leave disappointed by my boring life.  However, if you enjoyed the read please feel free to give me some money.  Every little helps after all.

Hopefully the next time I speak to you it will be from London.  Fingers crossed.

My Hectic Life

I turned on my computer so that I could do something relatively productive.  And lo and behold, here I am with a 150g bag of kettle chips writing a blog about me sitting here eating a 150g bag of kettle chips and writing a blog.  I feel this may take quite some time to write as well given every time I have a crisp I feel the need to make sure my hands are clean enough to touch my keyboard.  You would see the irony in this statement if you could see the state of the room I’m currently writing this in. 

So, it’s been quite a while since I last wrote anything.  You must be anxious to find out what’s happening in my life.  I can feel it already.  Well, I have a pretty hectic couple of weeks coming up what with uni deadlines, auditions and a show.  Uni deadline I’m kind of on top of because it’s only 60% of your dissertation you have to hand in.  I’m nearly there, unfortunately, for the person reading the 60%, it is not in any way a good read.  They don’t say it’s meant to be good, just as long as there is 60% there.  BAM!

The audition is an entirely different matter.  I am so unprepared it’s unreal.  Given it’s in six days is not helping with stress levels.  For some reason they feel it’s necessary to hear two monologues, four songs, and a devised piece.  Seriously?  What is the need for that much?  Anyway, I still don’t know one of my monologues (a Shakespearean one at that), I keep flitting between songs that I’m going to sing, which is not conducive to good practice sessions, and I can’t seem to find the devised piece I wrote about three months ago.  So all roads lead to this being an awful audition.  Oh and on a side note, I am on the reserve list for the school I auditioned for in London, very happy about that.  The other problem I have with the audition is that it falls on the same day as our dress rehearsal for Carousel.  This means I have a 9-5 audition (if I’m lucky enough to get a call back) and then dress rehearsal from 7-whenever it finishes.  Long, long day. 

Which leads me nicely onto the joy that is our production of Carousel.  I really do think it’s going to be a good show.  We are looking far better than we did this time last year, given we have managed to get through the whole show twice now, whereas last year we were still unsure of one scene the night before opening night.  Always a good place to be in.  To anyone in Glasgow or East Kilbride area that reads this, make sure you come along - it should be worth the money - which isn’t something I usually say, believe me. 

Well I don’t really have anything else to say to you all.  I feel I have procrastinated for long enough and should really do some proper work.  It may be a long time before I make another post given after the next two weeks I may just go into hibernation. 

Cheery-bye

I Think I'm Going Through The Menopause

That got your attention, eh?

OK so I think I must be going through the change.  Yes, the menopause.  You know the thing middle aged women go through?  This is the only logical (or close to acceptable) reason why I would cry so much.  It takes nothing for me to get a lump in my throat, examples of this are standing ovations, adverts, books, songs, tv shows, and the list goes on.  Now, don’t get me wrong, sometimes this is completely fine, but other times it is just downright ridiculous. 

Friday night was an example of an acceptable time to cry.  I was in London for an audition on Thursday and since we were there (my flatmate Fiona came with me) we decided to go see a show on Friday before returning to Glasgow.  What to see?  The choices were endless but nothing was taking our fancy so we picked a new musical which neither of us new about, Love Story.  Now, we didn’t know it was a film beforehand therefore didn’t know plot or anything.  Bad decision.  Always be prepared.  90 minute show with no interval; 45 minutes of joy and hilarity, 45 minutes of heart-wrenching sorrow.  How could the writer possibly give this 25 year old leukaemia and die.  She was only just married.  They were trying for a family.  Fair enough, they told us at the beginning of the show she died, but not like that.  This was my legitimate crying time.  A good 45 minutes of cry snot. 

Now, tonight I have discovered the joys of Into the Heights, a new musical about Puerto Ricans in America.  It is amazing.  I didn’t know anything about the story but downloaded a few songs.  Already I have cried.  Some lady died, I didn’t know her, don’t know her part in the story, but sentimental old me cried.  I cried.  Then I listened to another more up-beat song came on.  An amazing bass line, a real summer song, and I got a lump in my throat I was so excited by it.  How can this happen?  Music has this weird hold over me.  No matter what is on I cannot control my emotions.

So you see this is part of the reason I think I must be going through the menopause.  No control of my emotions.  Have you ever met a woman during the menopause?  Now, apologies anyone actually going through/gone through it, but I’d rather not have prolonged periods of time with you, (unless you’re my mother reading this, because I love you lots and lots and lots) you are crazy creatures.  I don’t think I’m crazy, I just think I have the emotional side of the menopause.  Is this possible?

Oh God, another good chord progression just occurred and my stomach did a flip.  Seriously you should see the smile on my face, it’s outrageous. 

I hate to tell you this now that you have gotten this far in.  But – and I am truly sorry about this – I have nothing else to say.  I wasn’t feeling well today so stayed at home and I have only just now got bored so wrote this.  I will have a purposeful post one day.  Just keep holding out for it.  Just you wait.  It will blow your mind.  One day. 

IT'S CHRIIIIIIISTMAS!

Hello and welcome back to a little snippet of my life.  You will all be glad to know that my life has finally returned briefly because…I have finished uni for Christmas.  Yay for me, boo for my liver (but it’s ok, because I have two.)  I had my penultimate recital ever on Wednesday and it went pretty well if I do say so myself.  Just have to hope the grade reflects my feelings on the matter.  After said exam I had to travel to East Kilbride to do a run through of the first act of the show I’m in for a few elderly people who may not even remember what they were doing last Wednesday for all I know.  So this may have been totally pointless.  Anyway, once this was done I got to do what I have been waiting all December to do.  Have a drink!  And, my oh my, was it good?  Who knew gin tasted like gold after a fortnight of not having any?  (For anyone that doesn’t drink it, it does.)  But, because I am a good friend and had other people performing the next day I decided to be sensible and only have a couple.  This, of course, took every fibre of my being to do, but I succeeded.  So off I went with a merry head and a skip in my step to bed. 

Hello Thursday.  All is fine, no head ache (wouldn’t usually expect to have one after two, but it had been an unnaturally long time since I had had a drink (2 weeks, remember) so anything is possible.  Up at 8:30, showered, dressed and out the door to be in uni with tea and croissant at 9:20 ready for a day of listening to lovely music.  Well, I say lovely.  Start of the day was extremely promising with a couple of great recitals on organ, cello and a few percussionists.  Great, I’m in for a treat.  But then, what should happen?  A band starts to set up.  A band?  Yes, a band.  Sound check and all.  Where have they come from?  Nobody knows.  Whose recital is this?  Nobody knows.  All very odd.  And this marks the days turn for the worst.  I start to despair at my horrendous choice of front row seat (chosen so I had a great view of a friends performance earlier in the day, not because I am any sort of geek.)  My mind cannot feel anything other than sheer horror, yet my face shows the most disturbing fake smile which tries to express “Wow, that’s great, you’re doing wonderful, really pushing the boundaries, you look like you’re having so much fun.”  However, all is put right when a couple of pianist friends come out and end the day on a high with great playing and great programmes (and no bands.)

This marks the end of performance exams and the actual start of drinking.  All head to QM (and by all I mean 6 of us) and start on the cheeky vimtos, of which I was a virgin, but now love.  They really do taste of vimto.  Who knew?  Apart from the person that named them.  After three of these I move onto vodka, then a couple of gins just to even it up, don’t want the spirits thinking I have a favourite now.  Over this period our group has slowly depleted to just three and we head to another bar with a lovely little £2 a drink offer.  Who could refuse?  And what do I find on entering?  Only my favourite thing in the world.  A PUB QUIZ!  It was relatively boring other than the fact we came second, which is surprising given some of our earlier answers included gems like an actress called Big Fat Jaq (because we knew she was tall, fat and all the names included Jack in the answer; and ditto was another favourite in that round (although surprisingly enough, if my memory serves me correctly, that was correct).  Anyway, pub quiz over it was time to get some food.  On leaving the pub Catherine and myself spotted the fancy swing hanging beside the door.  Now what responsible drunk person would pass a swing (a piece of wood hanging on two pieces of rope from the roof) and not want to get on it.  Me and Catherine were these people.  Sit down, easy, oooo take a photo, such fun, now swing.  Not so much.  You see the physics of the swing were not thought out properly by the creator because on lifting your legs you merely topple backwards into a big pile of drunken mess on the cobbles below.  Mortifying but still hilarious (especially when 2 seconds after we had fallen a couple of girls did exactly the same on the opposite swing).  Get up, dust off, eat food, then KO in Catherine’s bed until the next day when we get up stupidly early.  Have ridiculous conversations with Catherine regarding everything from me being a football fanatic (or at least that’s what my underwear told her) to contact lens solution (which actually wouldn’t have gone amiss given I’d slept the entire night with them in, ouchy eyes).  Ok, so miracle of miracles, I still feel fine.  No hangover.  Nada. 

New day, new hair.  Go to barbers to get haircut (have uni night out tonight so must look dashing, obviously) and then walk home in the freezing cold.  Get home, shower and then power nap.  Get up, wash essentials (not those essentials, naughty), dress then out the door to purchase a bottle of champagne, wine, vodka and gin.  This night could not possibly end badly with a shopping list like that.  Get to Catherine’s, again, drink champagne, then drink more that Catherine bought and leave for our civilised dinner.  Lovely night of food and drink with lovely people, all very merry and very (my computer wants me to change this to much, why?) civilised.  Head back to Catherine’s, again, to get stuck into the litre of vodka.  Which we do with a vengeance.  By 2 o’clock I’m lying in the dog chair (they don’t even have a dog) with a throw over me hoping I don’t vomit everywhere.  Get up to go to toilet, sit on toilet without taking trousers off or lifting the lid to find this a ridiculous idea and leave the toilet.  I didn’t need anything just before you think I defecated or urinated in my clothing, I did not.  Lollop into Catherine’s room to gatecrash some conversation by flinging myself on bed and losing consciousness.  How did I become that old man?  You know the one, the one that always ends up asleep in the corner at parties.  That’s mainly all I remember of the end of the night. 

Now, it’s Saturday.  Get up ridiculously early again as Catherine is going home and I am working.  Oddly enough I feel grand again, except my eyes given it’s the second night I’ve slept with contacts in.  Why didn’t I take solution given the previous days conversation?  Because I’m an idiot.  So I get home at 11:00, hop in shower and have to leave for work at 11:30.  Still feel great (are you seeing where this is going?)  Get into work and start my shift, great on a bar by myself so nobody has to worry about my sleepiness.  Only have 190 people on my level and it’s a matinee so not many people will be drinking.  Great.  Not so great.  Turns out the minute my shift starts I get the hangover.  Why?  Because karma’s a spiteful bitch, that’s why.  And to top it off, apparently afternoon ballet crowds are alcoholics.  So I actually had to work.  This did not please the hangover and slowly paralysed me with hangover badness until all I could do was moan softly into the forearm on which my head was almost constantly resting.  I feel the lesson I learned this time round is not to drink three nights in a row, when you haven’t had a drink for an age.  No matter how much fun it seems. 

Well that’s you all caught up on the last few days for me.  It’s Christmas holidays now so no doubt I shall have a return to entertaining stories of drunken debauchery in the new year.  Until then, have a merry Christmas/Hannuka/Bodhi (or whatever you do) day and a happy new year.  I will.