Friday, Saturday, Sunday

So I might be blogging more and perhaps that is beneficial to my general skills of expression and, more specifically, my writing, but I’ll be honest with you, its doing absolutely nothing for my title skills.

I mean, look at that thing up there. Is that not the most boring title ever? I mean, it might be kind of cool as a title to a novel (DON’T steal that. I TOTALLY want to write a novel called that now). Even as the name of a poem it might be a bit evocative. But, as a blog post title? Jeeze. Give me a break. That’s just snooze-worthy boring. Hence why I will not be posting this to Facebook or Twitter or to any other social media place and I apologise to any regular readers out there who may be currently reading this. I’ll try to be as entertaining as possible to make up for that crap title.

So I’m stating this post now fully aware it will not get done in time, because I am heading to a feminist discussion group in an hour or so(yes, that’s right. I’m a feminist. And I discuss things. Discuss things I’ve read. With other feminists. I’m such an intellectual). But I’m also aware that I haven’t written anything in, oh, 3 days and if I leave it another day I’m in danger of not posting anything more in this ‘new-thing-per-day’ folly. And, as a side note, I finally figured out where this idea came from. Its from ‘Friends’. That’s right. I don’t actually have a single original thought, feeling, joke, fashion-sense or motivation in my life that doesn’t come from ‘Friends’, apparently. I DO NOT LIKE THIS PERSON I HAVE BECOME : ‘Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul/And there I see such black and grainèd spots/ As will not leave their tinct!’ (I’m hoping that quote might improve my cultural standing with all you people still reading along at home).

ANYWAYS, back to my stupid, ‘inspired-by-crap-NBC-mid-90s-television-series-blog-thing’. Three more days of being 29:

1) Watched a full episode of Glee

You’d think, on the surface, that I would be the perfect candidate for being a fan of Glee. I like show tunes, I like quirky things, I like a capella singing, I used to be in a choir, I’m a girl. But there was something about the show that I never quite trusted. See, if I sense that someone or something is really, desperately trying to appeal to me, I’m instantly turned off. Boys that are interested in me generally have more luck if they play hard to get than if they lay all their cards on the table and just go ahead and tell me how much they like me. And so I sensed it with glee. Here was a show that was trying too desperately hard to be liked. Maybe not specifically by me, but by people like me, people who had overlapping tastes, interests and prejudices. And because I don’t like to do things that people expect of me, because I like to pretend that I am a unique and original human being (though my clearly ‘Friends’-washed brain would certainly suggest otherwise), if I sniff out that desperation to be liked in something, I will refuse, point-blank, to like them. Just to stick it to that smug TV producer and director and writer who thinks they’ve got me pegged.

Still, though, many of my friends seemed to be great fans of the show, and from the small clips I’d seen, I did enjoy the performance of the terrifying head of the cheerleading squad. There was part of me that thought, perhaps, I was being over-hasty in my dismissal of the show (like my dismissal of Amy Winehouse’s music – ok, was wrong about that – or every single Tarrantino film  – yes, ok, was wrong about that too. But, hey, isn’t that what growing old is all about? Being able to admit when you’re wrong?). So, when I arrived home on Friday, jet-lagged and sleep-deprived, thinking all I wanted to do was veg out on the couch with some form of bad food and watch some mindless DVD, well, the first season of glee owned by housemate seemed like the perfect option.

And, well. May I just say something, please? Sometimes, sometimes, we grow wiser with age. And we realise that the pride and egomania of our youth was misjudged. And we put aside our mistaken philosophies and we embrace, whole-heartedly, with an overwhelming and all-encompassing joy, that which we once dismissed. Like, eating vegetables. Or, going to bed at a reasonable hour. Or, our parents.

Watching glee for the first time ever, however, was not one of those times.

I’m sure I’m going to get some hate-mail over this (I got hate mail over my opinions on Peppa Pig, why wouldn’t I get it over Glee?), but, what a hideously sexist, racist, mindless, badly-written, over-acted, ridiculous and annoying piece of crap. I hated most of the characters in the short clips I saw of them on ads and from walking through the room when my housemates were watching the TV, but convinced myself that if I watched the show and ‘truly understood them as human beings’, well, everything would be different. Everything was different. THEY WERE MORE ANNOYING.

Unfortunately, not all new things can be good. Sometimes, new things are bad. And this was one of those times.

2) Saw my friend, Brydie’s cabaret show, ‘Sugar and Vice’

Luckily, my whole weekend did not follow this horrible pattern. I headed to Brighton on Saturday (straight after work, I might add. That’s right, I got home from the USA on Friday, went to work Saturday, then Sunday and then today too, actually. I have managed to work 21 hours just in the past 3 days. Its like I never went away!) where Brydie was performing her show as part of the end of the Brighton Fringe. It was kind of bizarre coming back to Brighton and finding the fringe still on actually. Part of me was like, ‘But, I’ve been to Alaska for 2 weeks, Brighton! I’ve been to the end of the earth and back! And you guys… you guys are just doing exactly the same thing you were doing when I left! Has the world not changed? Did you not feel the shift? How can you all be acting as if NOTHING EVEN HAPPENED???’

Ahem. Anyway.

I had heard quite a bit about the show from Brydie and I’ve also known her for a very long time (since her first year of university, actually). I knew that I liked her a lot and I knew that I had enjoyed her performances in the past  – having cast her in the first show I ever wrote (a theatrical version of Neil Gaiman’s ‘Stardust’. Natch. And let me just say, I wrote it WELL before the crappy film version). But, this show brought out a whole different side of Brydie and I just adored the production. In all honesty, it was way too short for me. I would have happily sat there for hours more hearing more stories and songs. A perfect mix of humour, pathos and ironic covers of Third-Eye Blind songs. It also included original music, which I was not expecting and blew me away even more (that’s because people who write music are, to me, possibly the most awe-inspiring people on earth. Which is why my brother, sometime around the age of 14, when he decided to be a composer, changed from being the annoying little pipsqueak I had the misfortune of sharing a house and last name with into a hugely talented and serious genius, possibly with magical powers and/or a direct connection to some kind of higher, mystical, and quite possibly shimmery being. Not being able to write music myself, I can only conclude that witchcraft and wizardry is somehow involved in the process. And, besides, he’s studying music at Hogwarts/Oxford. FINAL PROOF THAT MUSIC COMPOSITION INVOLVES SOME KIND OF BLACK MAGIC)

Sorry, got side-tracked. Anyway, Brydie’s show was amazing. I love discovering that your talented friends are even more talented that you could ever possibly have hoped or imagined. Definitely a step up from the rotting carcass of crap that was glee (oh, I’m definitely getting hate mail).

3) Enjoyed a nap before midday

There are certain things that I grew up believing whole-heartedly. Onions are the devil’s food. Sleeping past 9am made you a fat, lazy slob. My arms are too fat for singlet tops.

Some of these things I still believe (onions ARE THE devil’s food), some have been proven wrong (you can still have a nice day ater 9am, 10am or even 11am) and others I’ve discovered, over the years, I don’t care so much about anymore (you’re right, my arms may still be too fat. But, suck it up, it’s hot and its my constitutional right not to cover my shoulders if I don’t feel like it. Really? Its not in the constitution? They protect your rights to have guns but not singlet tops? Oh, and I’m not actually American, anyway? Right, ok, well, moving on…)

One of the rules I used to live my life by was that you couldn’t, couldn’t have a nap before midday. This was MADNESS. This was the WORLD GONE TOPSY-TURVY. What was the point? I asked myself. What was the point of even waking up in the first place if you weren’t going to make it past midday??? Also, I was convinced that naps before midday made you feel unbelievably unwell, whereas naps after midday just made you feel hungry and thirsty. Yes, ok, let’s not get too deep into the logic of it all, because I’m certain there is no rational reason, its just what I thought. For 29 years.

So, anyway, after sleeping approximately 4 hours on Sunday night and not much the night before (thank you jet-lag, late-night shows and the desire to talk ad nauseum to your friends who you haven’t seen in 2 weeks, even though they are staring at you with half-closed, lazy eyes they are so exhausted and close to sleep), I arrived back home in London staring down an 8 hour Sunday close shift (the WORST kind of Sunday shift) feeling slightly worse for wear. Seeing how I had to start work at 3pm, I decided it was best to take my nap as soon as possible. Despite the fact that I had only gotten out of bed 3 hours previously.

And, well, here’s a shocker for you: it was absolutely fine. It was more than fine, it was great. It was so, so necessary. I was so blissfully happy and deeply asleep that I had that glorious feeling when waking up of, ‘what time is it? what day is it? where am I? who am I?’ (There are some times that this is a scary, panicked feeling – when you feel like you’re meant to be somewhere, doing something, probably right at that moment. But, some times, when it kind of washes over you in waves its a really calm, wonderful feeling. All you’re really aware of is sounds going on around you, the heaviness of your eyes, the softness of the bed, your relaxed, floppy limbs. I highly recommend it). So, in the end, it turns out pre-midday naps are perfectly acceptable, if you really need them. No more forcing myself to arbitrarily stay awake past midday just so I can have an afternoon nap. Mid-morning naps all the way!

And, so, in summary, this is what I have learnt in the last 3 days of being 29: Glee is crap. Brydie is jaw-droppingly amazing. Morning naps are the bomb.

Go. Continue through your lives certain in this wisdom.


1 Comment

Filed under 29, London

One response to “Friday, Saturday, Sunday

  1. Pingback: Racist. Sexist. | oh! the places you'll go

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