Where is that man? Who? You know, the love of my life? That one person that epitomises perfection in his being. His stature being bigger than mine so that I feel safe, protected. His muscles that aren't too muscley. Him with his ability to sing, dance and act and make my knees go wobbly everytime he steps onstage. Him the the rockstar edge and rockstar ability neatly hidden away for family meals. He who loves to spend time with me, talking about the universe, he who wants to be quiet, who just wants to sit. He who makes me want to jump on him just by looking at me. Him with his always knowing the right thing to say apart from the times when he doesn't but it doesn't matter because he's passionate about it and beleives he's right. Him and his ability to calm me with his touch. Him with his magical eyes that I could gaze into for hours. He who cannot look bad in a suit. He who makes me laugh until I cry. Him and the effortless way he can pick me up and put me to bed when I fall asleep on the sofa. Him and the way he believes in me. He who hates everyone I hate. He who never feels like an effort, he who I could never be without.

You seen him?

Weight.

What a fascination. For some more than others of course.

There is a world. A strange world where girls (and some boys) can get lost. Sometimes just a day, sometimes weeks. Sometimes, they say, it is possible to get lost there forever. It is a strange world, full of blurry images. Images you can't make out and day by day you are not sure what you are looking at.

I've been to this world. Many times. Luckily (or some may say unluckily), I have always made it back to this world. Usually pulled back to this world by something very real. Or by being very weak. Strength and spirit.

Being an actor doesn't make it easier of course. When you are an actor, people (in particular teachers and mentors) feel they can tell you what you are and what you need to be, maybe not realising that it will send you to this strange and scary world where you will get lost for a few weeks before bounding back into the real world and then some.

I feel the need to write in an abstract way. Despite my title being blatant.

The sad truth is, this world can be a wonderful and magical place too. A place where you are in control, you like what you see and people compliment you. People compliment you on your fabulous change, your journey into this world, not really knowing what they are congratulating. People and their compliments keep you strong in this desire to succeed in this world, despite the world moving beneath your feet. You don't get compliments like that very often in the real world. So you start to believe it to be true and safe and right.

Then, when something clicks, or you lose it, or before you know it you are bounding back into the real world begging for forgiveness or at least for someone to hold you in their arms, no one believes or really cares about what you have seen or experienced in this place, this world. And you start to wish you'd never come back.

And it'll happen again. This circle of proof. This idea that one day you will succeed in the other world and then, with the drop of a hat, the real world will finally be yours to claim.

Check it out...

So for anyone actually reading this, I have created two new sections on my Blogger. On the right you will see "Poetry" and "Song Lyrics" and this is where I will share my other writing style.

Enjoy x

Bored.

Bored.

I mean what do people do?

Ok, so usually I'm so busy with a show and a relationship that I don't have time to ever feel bored. Time off is a rarity and is usually spent with my nearest and dearest eating pizza and drinking milkshake in bed. But now....I honestly can't think of anything to do.

I've watched movie after movie, I've worked my way through ALL of Sex and the City, I've eaten copious amounts of doritos, I've got drunk alone, I've gone to the theatre alone, I've read books and plays, I've cleaned everything, I've decorated but now I'm bored. And I was bored all along really.

Jesus.

Maybe this is what happens when your hobby is your job. I don't even sing very much at the moment. 1, because it annoys my new non-musical housemates and 2, every time I sing it reminds me of what I'm not doing anymore. It reminds me of how endlessly boring my life is without singing.

I really can't go on like this. It comes back to that waiting that I wrote about. I'm literally waiting for my life to pass me by. I don't have anyone to share it with. By the time I find someone to share it with I'll be so closed off and set in my boring ways I'll have forgotten how to function with someone else in my life!

So I'll try and write.

...before I go mad.

BDD

about.body.dysmorphic.disorder

At one time or another we all worry about our appearance, but when you wake up degrading your nose, hair, chest, WEIGHT, etc. and then continuing to have these thoughts all day, that's when there is a problem. Closely linked to other disorders and psychiatric conditions, Body Dysmorphic Disorder (termed shortly BDD) is a serious disorder that is growing fast. People that suffer from BDD not only dislike some aspect of how they look, they're preoccupied severely with it. Most get to the point where it is very hard to go outside or sit down comfortably, or go to work and talk to others, without thinking the self-degrading thoughts about their flaws. The thoughts soon over take the person's mind and it is all he/she can think about.

I think I might have to come back to this when I'm feeling brave.

Pret A Manger. Euston Rd.

The pendulum swing. A theory of balance.

However crap your life may seem, soon it will swing back the other way.

Is this the truth?

Or is it that the more crap your life gets, the more that average everyday happenings seem great?

Now, my life isn't crap. I happen to enjoy it most of the time. But it's the waiting that we do that I find odd. It's not a case of laziness. Of waiting for the phone to ring. It's that moment where you have nothing to do, so you wait. You put some music on, and you sit, and you wait. Now of course you could put some washing on or clean the bathroom but for now that's not important.

I find these are the moments I miss since giving up smoking. I tend to race full steam ahead. At least when I smoked I gave myself a breather....so to speak.

Am I different? Do I spend more time thinking than the average human? Is this bad or good?

I actually stopped in the middle of Victoria underground station the other day and watched and waited for the person to whom I'd just said goodbye, to come bounding back down the steps and sweep me off my feet. I must watch too many unrealistic romantic films. But are they unrealistic? I know I've felt it.

I think we, the people of London, should slow down. Time moves so quickly here. I'm pretty sure the love of my life could have run past me three times already today without a second glance. Why are we so afraid to look at each other? Why is it deemed strange to make conversation? Why do we then get drunk and surpass all these boundries in a bid for freedom only to blame it on the booze the next morning?

I'll be the first to admit to using alcohol as a release. A chance to dance, a chance to sing on the tube, a chance to be a dirty flirt and kiss the person that your sober pride would not allow.

If only honesty were a living requirement.

People often laugh at my bluntness. They call it 'unladylike'. People have shouted at me for not keeping secrets, but Jesus, the things that could happen if we were all just up front and honest! I don't know how anyone can let a day go past wondering 'what if?'.

What if I'd told him I miss him?

What if I'd just said hello?

What if I'd just kissed him?

A dear late friend and mentor once posed the following question to me -

"What is your life if you have no one to acknowledge it?"

He didn't know. He was a single man (well, in the traditional sense).

This question has played on my mind for years since. And it poses many further questions. Like, what is in my life for me and what is in my life to be looked at and admired by others?

As far as acting goes, screw the west end, screw television. If money were no object I could happily perform in the smallest shittiest fringe theatres for the rest of my life and be happy just to be doing it. No acknowledgment required. Just maybe every now and then a stranger who is moved...

As much as someone can acknowledge your life, they can also judge. I know this. I've been that judge.

Hmm.

So why do we constantly text someone we know we can't have. Just LONGING that maybe they will, I don't know, change their mind? Or come to their senses?

Lesson for life: Never fall in love with someone you ultimately can't have.

Sounds simple enough right?

Wrong.

If only you could pick how you feel and who you feel about. The number of times I have now sat next to my ex and best friend and just LONGED to feel something more than I do. It would be so simple. He loves me, I'd love him. Happily ever after, into the sunset, bla bla bla.

Have you ever felt like you've walked away from the one person who will ever really love you?

It's tough but I guess you know ultimately if you've made the right decision. You can't go on pretending to love someone just because they hold you high. Everyone likes to feel beautiful. But there comes a point where you realise, and you reflect, and it's nothing, it's meaningless. A haze lifts and what once was there becomes pointless, dream like, empty.

I am the terrible case of two extremes. I am the fussiest woman in the world when it comes to men and always know on first glance whether I can or cannot feel for someone. So, most of the time, perfectly wonderful men will pass me by without me giving it the slightest chance. On the other hand, when I see something in someone that I like, well, that's that, head over heels, love lifts us up where we belong, awe-inspiring, cherubs playing harps madness.

The latter tends to be one sided.

I have never cheated. And yet I am so often that horrible "other woman". Isn't that just as bad?

Probably. But in "other woman's" defence. I do not believe we do it without believing that somewhere, somehow, he might leave his so called beloved and praise our beds instead. The minute a man complains about his girlfriend - well! Hello! Full steam ahead. Permission Granted.

3 weeks of hot sex, thrilling conversations and sneaky passionate kisses later....

Reality. Good bye my lover.