First off: I have finished my course. You are probably slightly resentful that I did not bring you along as I said I might. However, I did write in excess of 80,000 words for assessment purposes and a large amount of this was a chronicle of our day-to-day activities. This number does not include the notebooks that I have filled with my scrawls. By the time I'd made a note of everything that we did in a day and then re-written it to hand it in later there was nothing I wanted to do less than talk about it more. Here is a selection of highlights, however, for your perusal:
- There was no Naked Day. Praise Jeebus. However, we did do these things called Object Exercises and, as a result, I have seen all of my classmates in their underwear at least once and have stripped down myself. One guy even got his kit off completely but I had been pre-warned and sat somewhere where I knew my view would be obscured. Taking my clothes off was far less of a biggie than I thought it would be and my abiding memory of the exercises is boredom. We watched each other doing the blessed things for HOURS. Putting make-up on, curling hair, endlessly. I thought Bla was going to win "Most Tedious" for her exercise where she got ready for a plane to New York and we watched her do her hair and make-up for 40 minutes, bleeding the session into our lunch break. Eventually, Ingy took first place with her Sleeping Partner exercise. I have a page of notes dedicated to a frustrated conversation between three of us sitting next to each other fuming because it was taking over an hour. She took four minutes to open a single sweet packet. I know because I kept glancing at the clock in disbelief. The finale of the exercise was her changing and, given that she is a particularly pneumatic young woman, it felt like our tutor was making sure that definitely happened. She has never lived that down.
- The most unbelievable person on the planet teaches at GSA. His name is Ian Ricketts. There is no real way to explain him. I never felt more special or beautiful at GSA than in his classes. In our first movement class with him he exhorted us to walk tall, saying, "be magnificent. Anything less would be untruthful." The highlight of my year was his woodland walk.
- I learned that I have a lot more to learn. Particularly in terms of how to use my voice. Several of the things I worried about when I started have been an issue that I've had to work on. I started crying in one class because I didn't understand how to use my tongue to make a proper 's' sound. I am still working on it. I've had to work hard to improve my posture and my neck tension is something that I have to force myself to stretch out every day. I often forget.
- I already miss the structure like you wouldn't believe. I loved the first two terms where I knew where I had to be and I could eat whatever I wanted as any weight I gained would be melted off because I was working so hard. I was on two or three extracurricular dance classes plus full days of moving, stretching, working. I was also trying to keep my running up in between. In term two I was an actual machine; I've never been so fit in my life. I have slacked off since...
- My housemates were not great. Two of them were also performing arts students and so I got on with them quite well as people. As housemates, however, they were all pretty dreadful. Crap at recycling, terrible at clearing up after themselves, reluctant to clean. If you are not already aware, at one point in the year there were faeces on the bathroom carpet. However, I am still glad I didn't live in halls. My room was a quiet haven that had many of my things in and my evening ritual was one of the things that kept me sane.
- My coursemates were delightful. There were some that I got on better than with others, which is always the way. The fact that the majority of them were significantly younger was sometimes an issue, mainly because of my energy levels. Many of them were shocked that I am my age but given that many of them were straight from Uni, I felt it was more that they didn't know very many people of my age socially. They have an idea of what a woman in their thirties is like and I didn't fit in to that. The main thing I noticed was how bad so many of them are at just having a normal conversation. They have the attention span of gnats and forget to ask questions. I got told off a lot towards the end of the year for not offering up information about myself because they thought I was being modest or whatever. I refrained from telling them that they either didn't listen or hadn't asked.
- I got to see what it's like to be onstage at the National. I got to play Hedda Gabler for an assessment, just one scene but still one of the most satisfying things I've ever been able to do. I got a distinction overall and for my written work stayed pretty damn consistent with one piece of work getting a mark of 90%. My best mark for acting was 87%, which was for my public production; I think part of the reason I did so well is because I am an amusing onstage drunk.
I was dumped in the Easter holidays. I had spent weeks collecting notes and scribblings for my Hedda Gabler essay and had just started writing when he did it. It took me several days to get back on track. That still irritates me more than it perhaps should. The whole thing irritates me perhaps more than it should. I don't know whether irritates is the right word. I think because there is so much that feels unresolved for me, I am struggling to get over it. I got cross with him for being thoughtless and he ended it. So was it my fault for bringing attention to his failings?
When I was the dumper I wanted to leave it all behind, partly out of guilt and partly because I was already one foot out of it. As the dumpee, I was still wholeheartedly in it and have not coped well with it being over. To be honest, it was the nicest relationship I've had. The most content and the one where I could look to the future and think, "yes. I will happily continue to do this for some time." I wanted to jump headfirst into a future with Thomas. One that involved camping and long walks and The West Wing and pancakes for breakfast and long discussions about things I didn't really understand. I am really, really sad about it still. I wish we could be friends now but I am starting to, slowly, get the hint that this isn't do-able. I can no longer expect him to text me back quickly if ever. I can't expect him to care that I am sad or hurt. It's been a while now and I should be over it.
I have tried. I signed back into internet dating while drunk and was immediately popular because drunk me is apparently better at writing profiles than sober me. Only one guy was of interest and we eventually went on a date (I did go on a date with one other guy and chatted to others but I could barely muster enthusiasm for any of them). He talked for hours about cycling. By an amusing twist of fate, it was on Thomas's birthday and I decided that they would get on far better with each other. The chap I was on a date with didn't even bother to ascertain my feelings on cycling or he might have found out that I can't even ride a bike. It seems unbelievable to me that you can have a conversation with someone on a date and not realise that you're the only one talking. I left feeling extremely down and deleted my profile.
How long I last off the websites is dependent on how lonely I feel. I am in a strange place at the moment where I haven't met anyone I fancy for ages. But now I am out in the world as an actor (more on this later, fingers crossed), I am more likely to meet people than in an office. It's just that the real world involves a lot more to-ing and fro-ing. You have to establish if people are single, straight, interested in a relationship, interested in you. The comforting thing about the websites is that you are all there for the same thing, in theory.
I wish my epilogue had more of a happy ending. Maybe I am just not going to ever be in a long-lasting relationship. Or maybe this is the sequel and I should just keep you posted.
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