So, I’ve considered starting a blog since, well…since Livejournal . I was informed at some point that the whole site had turned super “emo”. Truthfully “emo” was never something I really considered a negative but you know, peer pressure. I also realised I was older than half of the kids posting drab and angsty schpeels about their lives. So much older in fact that you could shove a whole bunch of them into a sardine can, average out their age and still I’d be older….although thinking about that statement logically I guess it’s a mathematical definite if you consider mean averages. Anyway.
Then I moved to New York City and assured myself that I would have plenty to talk about and share with the world about being a struggling student/theatre artist/educator. It is true, I did have many, many things to say but somehow never got around to expressing them in any other form than chugging on a Friday night and consequently bitching about the price of tuition at NYU and why MTA kept raising their monthly train fares.
It’s 23:50 on Valentine’s Day 2011 and I’m sat in my bed in my parents’ house in the suburbs of London after being forced to leave NYC due to visa issues…half admiring my new bedding and half considering why on earth I have finally bothered to set up a blog. I’m pretty tech savy, but I have no idea how to make this thing look pretty, and lets get one thing straight. No one gives 2 hoots about what I write here, it’s all about the way blogs look…right?
I’ll start by exploring the concept of “power”. The power a man in a nice suit has over a bored and unemployed woman. It’s amazing what a hint of flattery will cause the desperate to do. Saturday, I met a man who told me I was funny. What a subtle and ingenious stroke of my ego! Mister Ben does not agree with the gentleman because when I relayed the conversation that took place, he shook his head and cringed. My erratic train of thought and consequently absurd one-liners do not amuse el senor, but seeing as the other man was looking so dapper in his suit and not only humoured my ridiculousness but also encouraged it, I would be inclined to prefer his opinion.
Therefore, my desire to be witty re-ignited and egged on by the handsome chap who so dutifully informed me of my talents at making him chuckle, I have resolved to give this whole blog thing a go. Because heaven knows, I’m not quite ready to make an utter fool out of myself through stand-up (another of the man-in-the-suit’s suggestions). I am shaking my head right now at the sheer notion that I let myself be charmed into this. I feel like a failure to Feminism. For years I’ve procrastinated and avoided doing something that I repeatedly told myself I should do, if only to maintain a practice of “writing” and what finally makes me pick up the proverbial pen? A Darcy-look alike model scout who had the misfortune of catching me on a particularly chatty day.
Ah well, I’m here now and a little part of me wants to prove my senor wrong. I can make people other than myself (and him, sometimes) laugh. Seriously though, my inner psyche thinks I’m a fucking riot. A hootenanny and all other sorts of words that I chuckle at. I amuse myself and am easily amused. I’m simple and smiling, the easiest combination in my opinion.
Having motivated myself to complete a goal that I added to a list on a serviette in some bar, sometime around my 25th Birthday, the dilemma now stands…What to say? What insightful comments on the world can I provide that no-one else has already sent out into the realms of cyber space?
Oh and one more question, are my sentences too long?