Sleepy kitten

I messed with my sleep patterns a bit this weekend and am thus unable to really wake up particularly. After the night of booze and pink lampshades, I got home but didn't get to sleep until 2ish, then woke up at 6.30 and went swimming, then slept for most of the afternoon, then went to sleep about 2ish, woke up about 7 the next day and slept most of the afternoon. If I am to truly pursue this crazy exercise-y lifestyle then I should perhaps make other changes to cater for it a bit more.

In addition to this, I was very disappointed after a week of pushing myself to have put on weight at Weightwatchers last night. However, the fact that my weekend's diet included tapas (with at least a bottle of wine to myself), chinese, pick'n'mix sweets, roast pork and potatoes may have contributed to this. Dammit!

So earlier nights on Fridays, avoid alcohol, avoid eating out and try and stick to the diet a bit more. Argh. I may give myself a day off a week but I think three is a bit excessive. I must get rid of the weight that I haven't properly managed to shift since before Christmas and then keep going! I'm determined now!

I finished Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland yesterday. It's an excellent book about the way that the world has shot off in a diagonal from the way that it should be. A girl goes into a coma in 1979 (the day before my birth, which, embarrassingly, is one of the reasons I was intrigued enough to buy the book. Interestingly the book is full of similar coincidences, so maybe not so embarrassing) and wakes up 17 years later and is disappointed by the way that the world has developed. Time doesn't exist and the only thing that people can get excited about is how efficient everything is (she also gets sick of everyone telling her about AIDS and the collapse of the Berlin Wall). It's very interesting and full of metaphysical ideas which are left tantalisingly close but never fully explained. I approve of not treating an audience like morons so appreciated that. I'm not going to bother doing a link because I don't seem to be particularly successful with books. However, the book thing seems to be becoming a regular thing. Maybe I should also review the Sudoku puzzle book I fall asleep over every night in bed. I don't like reading in bed as I either get too excited that I can't sleep and want to keep reading, or fall asleep and miss things. For some weird reason, that seems impolite.

Not a happy blogger

I have been put off posting this week as I understand that I have been criticised for being rude to people. In my defence, I would say that I may be flippant but I never plan to insult my friends or family. Please, anyone who has received a name and is unhappy about it, provide me with alternatives. If the content upsets people too much, by all means stop reading.

So, now that that's out of the way, there were quite a few things I want to write about this week so here's my week in short:

1. Went out to a birthday do last Friday and ended up initiating conversations with people I'd never met before. Given my occasional stilted speech and extreme shyness, this felt like an achievement. Yay me!
MuleBoy enjoyed himself despite spending the hour previous to the party telling me he didn't want to go. Yay him!

2. Met up with old friends who I haven't seen for months on Saturday. Ended up freezing and watching Tootsie in a house with broken heating for four hours before we decamped to Miss Funky's parent's house for heat and fajitas. The Gay Tory and I found that we were both extremely useless at music quizzes and for some reason decided to team up. We lost. I also learned a new song:

Lesbians, lesbians
A woman takes another for a lover

Lesbians, lesbians
They don't have to be..undercover

3. I decided to exercise and have so far been to an aqua fit class and a boxercise one. I am going swimming tomorrow morning as well. I hurt, which I expected, but feel amazing, which I didn't.

4. In the course of preparing for fitness, I had to buy a new sports outfit as I only had some t-shirts and some brown jogging trousers that are saggy at the knees.. The new thing was half price and necessary but it still counts as falling off the wagon. I start again here. Unfortunately I also need a new bra as I didn't have enough support. Can't decide whether this will count or not.

5. I am going out to get sozzled tonight and plan to be embarrassing. MuleBoy is not coming but will have to deal with the aftermath. Feel sorry for him, everybody. Unfortunately alcohol tends to be the main cause of weight gain for me but I plan to not think about that this evening. I just hope I'll manage the swim.

That was my week. I had a lovely time, thank you please.

Hmm, definitely a very deep thought

So, I love my new hair, it rocks and is the closest a gal like me can ever get to a stylish bob-type thing. However, am not sure about it with a centre parting. Side parting, I feel like a Hollywood starlet, back when that was a worthwhile thing to be. Centre parting and it turns into terrifying triangular hair, a curse for the curly. You straight-haired people will never know the true terror of triangular hair and what happens when that gets frizzy. Believe me when I say that I look almost indistinguishable from Crystal Tipps, a sad fate for anyone who isn't animated (as in drawn, rather than full of expression).

I Heart Books

I have just finished two books in two days and have started on a new one this morning. I go through periods of voraciously devouring books and due to the play finishing have got back into my stride a little. The first book was extremely enjoyable and quite long, so I was reading it throughout the run but, for obvious reasons, could never just sit down and plough through it. Ursula, Under by Ingrid Hill, a book which allows the reader a glimpse into the lineage of a small Finnish-Chinese-American girl who fell into a mineshaft and there bore the responsibility to live, being the last person in this epic line of people. I loved it, particularly the narrative, which was extremely omniscient and at several points made reference to a God who could see not only what was and what is but also what will be and what could have been, and by using this technique gave you insights into what could have been a better or worse life for the characters in question. Another thing I liked was that it was never sentimental and wouldn't linger on the potentially emotionally manipulative scenario of Ursula's predicament, focussing instead on differing viewpoints and practicality. I recommend everyone to read it.

The second book took me less than a day to read and was a horse of a totally different colour. A Year With The Producers by Jeffry Denman was an actor's diary taken from his auditions to his appearance as Matthew Broderick's understudy in the original Broadway production. I love reading about people who work in theatre, there's something about it that both undercuts and perpetuates the myth and glamour. You hear about the slog and the hell of auditioning but at the same time get to read about parties where Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft conga around a restaurant with the rest of the cast in tow. However, I was very glad I had seen both films, even if I'd never made it to see the production onstage (do you know how much those tickets cost? And it's currently John Gordon Sinclair who I am not that keen on) because it is written for an audience who know the show reasonably well. Someone coming into it completely cold would be rather confused by the references to Little Old Lady Land and chorus line swastikas.

So, I'm a big novels geek but at least MuleBoy would be proud of me for reading consistently adult books as he moans at me for reading children's books. He has yet to discover the genius of Philip Pullman and Garth Nix (seriously, if you haven't read Garth Nix yet, he is excellent. I wasn't a big fan of Sabriel but Lirael and Abhorsen are well worth it).

Rumours

I met up with my friends SpyGirl and Her Loveliness yesterday. SpyGirl is heading back to Italy tomorrow, which she says is due to her completing her studies in International Politics and that sort of malarkey but this must be a lie as WE ALL KNOW that she is really a spy doing spy things. I'm still rather confused as to why she's going back early as she was originally intending to meet up with a boy from her course (read: fellow spy) in Austria in order to have sex but has decided to change this to another time and the Lebanon (apparently Austria is boring so by going to the Lebanon she plans to combine sightseeing and sex).

However, this meant that this was my last opportunity to pump her for information about her Dad who, it is rumoured, writes romantic fiction under a female pseudonym. When told that he has been quizzed about this before and responded only with an enigmatic chuckle, SpyGirl decided that this meant he didn't but was trying to make himself look more interesting. However, she plans to investigate so we shall find out more in the future. I would love to know how the rumour started if it isn't actually true as it does imply a flight of fancy in the originator. SpyGirl then responded with a rumour about a mutual Mexican acquaintance who apparently left her job and disappeared back to Mexico in order to sort out her father's estate when he died and found herself the recipient, along with her siblings, of several million pounds that she had absolutely no idea her father owned. Apparently she is now staying in Mexico and living it up. Well, wouldn't you?

Bad Hair Day

I am getting my hair cut tomorrow, which isn't soon enough to my mind. For some reason, I decided to let it grow longer than I normally would and I am getting to the point where I remember why I cut it all off about 7 or 8 years ago. Dear Gods, let it just be shorter so that I may style my hair! I am also trying to decide in what way I would like to be pampered on Saturday and trying to find somewhere to get a moustache bleached. Any suggestions, please let me know, I am starting to get desperate. No-one has, of yet, mistaken me for a man but it's only a matter of time. I remember reading somewhere that in France they have a pet name for the feminine moustache but we seem to be terrified of hair in Britain. I found a stray white one on my jawline the other day and felt like an old crone. I seem to spend half my life shaving, waxing and plucking and would love someone to come up with a permanent hair-loss solution, wouldn't that be amazing! I have a list of ways to improve my appearance should I ever be visited by a genie and that's nearly top. At the top of the list is hair on my head that is obedient and that I can change the colour and style of at will. I'd have so much fun with that.

Hoorah for me

On a lighter note, it has been one month and counting since I last bought clothes. Yay me.

Well, I guess that's that, then

So we had our opening night of our show last night. It went well, generally pretty smooth, and the actors did well and got a good audience response. I think it'll be really excellent by Saturday as there's no rehearsal which works as well as just doing it in performance. I feel guilty for not having been very director-ly on Monday after the Dress Rehearsal and having done no St Crispin's Day type speech to really rally the troops. These three days have been so much harder than I thought they would be and at that point, I just wanted to clear up the problems and go to bed. MuleBoy is convinced that I will want to direct again in the future and at some point it'll suddenly click and I'll be desperate to direct again. So far, I'm just not there and I can't imagine ever being there. I have enjoyed the rehearsals, think the cast are amazing and am proud of the final product but I just don't feel the connection with directing that I probably should in order to want to do it again. I don't really like the responsibility and it doesn't give me the same thrill that I get from acting. So in future, I shall stick to the bit that I really love and leave directing to the people that crave it. Like the Mule

Poorly again

Again, apologies for neglecting to post. I'm generally just not in the mood when I'm at home and especially not when I am feverish and coughing up the contents of my lungs. Funny, that. Anyhoo, I am back at work and trying to work out what needs to be done and trying to get through several miles of paper. It's at times like these when you realise that there is stuff that just doesn't need to be done. I think filing is overrated for a start, we only seem to do it at all to cover our backs when we get audited. Or in order to be able to say "hah, we did send you that letter and we have the proof!" Basically, it's a general cover-all. I reckon that if the world was more trusting, we wouldn't need filing at all. Please everyone, let's make the world a more beautiful place. More trust, more trees!

I kept expecting MuleBoy to tell me I could have last week off from rehearsals as well but he wouldn't do it because he is a big meanie. I was living in fear that I'd pass germs on to the cast and tried to keep a distance. Easy in the theatre, tricky in the other tiny rehearsal spaces we have. I hid behind my scarf a lot of the time. As no-one has gone down with it yet, I am praying that this remains the case.

In all fairness, it is now Show Week, so I guess it was a bit short notice to let me off rehearsals (although surely a benefit of two directors). Yesterday was a long 12 hours comprising getting the set up, sorting the props, setting the lights, programming the lights, having a cue run-through and then a full run-through. Much to their credit, all concerned were tireless and uncomplaining and me and the Mule felt ourselves to be very lucky being surrounded by such a committed group of people. Hooray for you all and much thanks.

Strangely territorial

We had a meeting of our theatre group last night. The company chose a play that I can't act in for our July slot, so I am resigned to behind-the-scenes roles until December, when I shall be wowing the world with my playing of a one-scene-only Librarian. So much for that whole "no small parts" philosophy. Sorry Herself, but there was another play I really fancied doing so I am a bit disappointed. Good luck, though.

But this disappointment was overshadowed by the fact that in my place, the theatre where I spend a vast amount of my free time and have done since birth, there were suddenly interlopers. Now, I have grown accustomed to the fact that other people use it, it is public property after all. However, when these people comprise mainly of fellow members of staff from my work place, and ones that I am quite often not that keen on (I was at least able to point out to Big Sis both the man I regularly describe as Hagrid with BO and the-man-from-that-meeting-where-I-said-I-was-going-to-hit-him-with-a-chair-and-stab-him-with-my-pen) then I have good reason to feel discomfited by their sudden presence in my private life. I spoke to Hagrid on my way out and found out that they had been watching the play going on in the theatre, which sounded very worthy. I was quite shocked to find that the-man-from-that-meeting-etc had actually appeared in the show and found it almost impossible to imagine him doing anything other than be incredibly annoying and disgusting (I am still emotionally scarred from having to look through his office, the man himself is impeccable but the office... (shudder)). So not only are they trespassing upon my place, but also upon my activities. I probably shouldn't be this crazy about but I didn't like it. Part of it is that they are all very clever and have jobs that reflect this whereas I am not and do not. So I feel at a disadvantage to them at work and just enjoy having this bit of me that is special and talented that helps me know that I am as good as them and better in the thing that I do. So, basically, work and private life don't mix in my head very easily.

Fatal Addiction

I have failed. I bought some clothes yesterday. Although I can't feel too guilty as it was necessary clothes-buying and I'm not sure that socks and tights really count, especially when there's a 3 for 2 offer on at Boots. I shall rule that out and state that I am nearly up to a month of cold turkey. My last expenditure was a whole £10 on three items of clothing at H&M so I can start feeling smug soon, I think. I nearly caved last week as I looked really cute in a stripey t-shirt that only cost £6 but I figured that the whole feeble rationalisation thing is what normally gets me into trouble anyway. My aim is to avoid buying new clothes until it starts being hot again. I have already donated a great deal of last year's summer wardrobe to charity as I was swimming in some of it (in terms of size rather than actually went swimming in it), had managed to bleach a bit of it with this stupid cream I was trying and have just plain gone off the rest. I hate summer clothes so tend to get stuff that will last for a minimal period of time (the same length of time as the fabled British summer) but as I am going away to Italy for two weeks this August, I feel the need to get summer clothes that are both reasonably flattering and slightly durable. Thus, I am being frugal until a) I crack or b) it's May and starting to warm up. I would not put any money on b) if I were you.

Poorly

I would like to know whether I am a hypochondriac or not. I've been off for most of last week with no real signs of illness other than feeling crappy and needing to sleep. A lot. Generally, unless I am showing visible signs of being ill; fever, vomiting, the runs etc, I will feel guilty about being ill. I will also try to go back to work way before I am feeling better and end up getting sent home in disgrace. This time I cried which was so embarrassing. I would just like to know whether my brain is in control of my being ill or whether it's the bits of my body that are affected by the actual illness. I think mainly, that I would like to stop feeling guilty about being poorly.

0, for a muse of fire

I found a fun game on the bbc website on Tuesday and finished it yesterday. You can find it here. Being both gory and reasonably challenging (as well as perhaps based on Theatre of Blood) I enjoyed it thoroughly. My personal favourite was the death that had elements of Merchant of Venice and Titus Andronicus.

I was talking about food at a post-rehearsal pub visit last night. I don't eat fruit and feel panicked if someone makes me try to eat anything except an apple (I can eat them, don't know why. None of this is rational). This led to a discussion about other people's food habits and we found out that someone's Dad eats cheese and strawberry jam sandwiches, which prompted MuleBoy to ask if he was pregnant. The justification given was that he likes cheese, he likes jam; why not eat them together? I can't really be too disgusted as I used to eat uncooked spaghetti and brown sugar sandwiches, we had a shortage of fun food (the words "why don't you have some fruit? was the refrain should Big Sis or I fancy a snack) in our house and this, for some reason, became a viable alternative. I don't remember enjoying them very much, however.

(PG) Tips: On the tea front I have been advised on how to get around this by a fellow feline. Am not sure as this still involves having to make tea but shall think on't.

Cup of Tea

I'm finding the politics surrounding cups of tea a very tricky balance at the moment. I normally drink water at work, which is all very healthy but we've run out of bottled water and when I drink the tapwater I feel like it is covering my throat in limescale. So, how do I create a comfortable balance between drinking tea infrequently enough so that I don't have to make it for anyone else and frequently enough to cover the gap left by water? Currently I drink, on average, a cup of tea per week, sometimes less. Everyone else drinks about four cups of tea and coffee per day. I therefore feel justified in never making a batch of hot drinks. One of the (many) things I like about this job over my last (evil) job in the accountants is the lack of enforced tea-making. But now I want more tea! I may have to bite the bullet and make a batch, which will either soothe the troubled minds of my colleagues and morally justify the very few teas I have, or set a dangerous precedent.

On an unrelated note, I am wearing an outfit which I am unsure of today. It seemed a good idea when I set my clothes out last night (it sounds anal, but it's either the night before or getting dressed in the dark, as sleeping MuleBoy and the wardrobe share the same room) but I am now reconsidering the skirt in combination with the sparkly jumper. Well, there's nothing I can do now, short of buying a new outfit in my lunch break and I have sworn off clothes in order to save holiday money. I'm expecting this particular resolution to last for about a week.

Time, Please!

I went out to the Monday Night Drinking Club last night for the first time in ages. I haven't really been to a pub since the whole new licensing stuff was put into effect. Thus I am really sleepy this morning as there was no time called and no overly officious bar-manager type asking us to go (definitely the downside of the Wetherspoons chain). I feel like a kid who's been given a taste of freedom and then regrets it when they get all tired and sulky. Added to that the current insomnia of MuleBoy who, after ghosthunting on Friday with his friend Zombie (we share an enjoyment of the horror films and, hey, cool name), cannot seem to sleep any earlier than 4am. He woke me up when he came to bed at first attempt this morning at 2 and then again at 4 when he came to bed proper. That said, it was a very nice evening yesterday. I went to Weightwatchers and found that I lost 3lbs last week, and then went to the pub and spent time with people I like. So I can't help feeling that the upside outweighs the down even if my back-cracking yawns have been disrupting the office this morning.

They didn't even know what animal I was!

We had auditions last night and I really sucked. I kept giggling when I was supposed to be taking it all very seriously and we had a game where we had to be people with animalistic traits and no-one could guess my animal. I was very disappointed. I thought I made a good tiger.

losing the ability to speak

I have noticed a worrying trend in my ability to speak coherently to other people. The trend being that I seem unable to do it. It isn't exactly new but it is annoying. Part of it is that I will start saying one word and then halfway through change it to another for no apparent reason. Or I'll say one word but mean to say something else. Once at a family party I was asked what drink I wanted and I said icecream. I thought I was saying lemonade but ended up saying icecream about three or four times, getting more and more annoyed. Last night I tried to tell someone that I wasn't feeling very coherent and ended up saying cohesive, which obviously was still true. But I find it really weird. It's like there's some essential connection missing between the part of my head that thinks up extremely witty repartee and the part that governs my mouth. I think speed has a lot to do with it; if I write it down, I can communicate better because I have time and I can correct it afterwards but speaking well is often something that eludes me.

If you've seen me speak in front of a number of people, then you will have seen my strange little way of talking that involves me correcting myself and rambling and using strange word choices. It almost looks intentional now but it is really just my way of governing the discrepancy between mouth and brain. I guess it's why I like acting, I only have to worry about the how rather than the what. I can do that.

Snooze Button

Just a quick word today, but don't you think life would be easier without the snooze button? This morning I pressed it 4 times, which is excessive. Having it there is so much worse than not having it there. With my old alarm clock, if I wanted to continue sleeping I would have to reprogram it and reset it, a process that would result in my waking up completely and deciding that I may as well get up anyway. Snoozing is far too easy and far too seductive especially in the dark days of January. Ban it, I say!

The only consolation I can gain from the snooze button is the hope that it wakes my upstairs neighbours and makes them feel all cranky and sleep-deprived as the bell rings out every 9 minutes. Oh how I hope for their sleep to be disturbed. Noisy feckers.

A less muted hoorah

I have lost weight over Christmas. I put on weight before Christmas so not completely ideal, but there you go. 4lbs to go until I am back where I was and then 1stone 4lbs before I reach my overall goal. It feels achievable now as I've already lost more than that. Hooray!

My next plan is to start exercising on top of eating less. This needs to be implemented soon as I'm going paintballing in two months for the first time and I would quite like to not be the one gasping and wheezing for air because I am so unfit. Especially because I am the only girl and have to prove a point. So I shall march onwards, continuing to lose weight, looking prettier and kicking some serious ass (or a humourous donkey, I'm not choosy).

A Bit Shit

I'm sure that the twos of people who read my blog have been quite appalled at the lack of posting over the Christmas period. It is shocking I know, but the truth is that I spend so long at the computer for annoying work-related things that I cannot be arsed to use the computer for fun things any more. The only exception is when MuleBoy and I have a row about what actor appeared in which film and we have to check IMDB.

So I apologise for not updating before and I hope that you all had a good Christmas and New Year. I had an ace one, particularly as I spent all last week at home doing very little and feel rested now for the first time in a really long time. It's my longest holiday since last Christmas! I've been making do with long weekends here and there, which are lovely but haven't eased the ridiculous sense of fatigue that I've been feeling.

Don't get me wrong though. I still didn't want to come back and actually had a tantrum yesterday morning when the MuleBoy tried to make me leave the Playstation and get on with something a bit more constructive. The main thing that bothers me is that we've spent two weeks together, pretty much all day, every day, and it has been awesome. Going back to seeing each other briefly in the evenings as we get on with all the other stuff that we commit ourselves to is difficult. Ah, well, such is life, I suppose. I wonder if I could persuade him to stay under my desk on the days when he doesn't have lectures, hmm...

In other news, it was great catching up with family and seeing friends over Christmas. Many board games were played and I decided that I will refuse to play Trivial Pursuit in the future. Mum and Dad's needs updating and the Millennium one that the MuleBoy's Mum has doesn't make any sense. Also, playing it with my Granny is a pain in the arse as she generally accuses other teams of cheating. In one particularly weird instance, Beanpole and I were having an argument because he'd given an answer, but not a final definitive answer, that I'd accepted and he said that I shouldn't have done because tactically I should have let them carry on and convince themselves out of the answer, to which I was pretty much just saying "but I said you were right" in a confused fashion and was then told by my Grandmother that I was a bad loser. I blame the excessive amount of cheese being consumed. I got to watch a lot of classic films, including National Lampoon, which wasn't too unbearable from my freak's perspective. MuleBoy still hasn't watched It's A Wonderful Life (next year, next year) but I managed to get him to watch The Princess Bride which he had avoided because of the genre. I think it was all of the best of... lists it appeared in over the festive period and Christopher Guest that swung it. Embarrassingly enough, the confrontation between Inigo and Count Rugen still makes me cry and I have seen it so many times. I ate masses of food (who didn't, lets face it) but was halted by MuleBoy the food nazi, protector of my weight loss. Thank God he's there but I still resent it. It's like he's my external willpower and I'm his external memory. I got lots of lovely presents and managed to stretch out the enjoyment of receiving until last Friday when I went out and used all my vouchers. Big Sis and husband Beanpole (I expect a suggestion if you don't like it, Beanie) gave me a voucher for a massage and I went and got pummelled on Friday morning, then popped into Chi and went and spent my Dotty P and Monsoon vouchers. The latter was the most fun as DP vouchers went on the necessary jeans as my old ones look slightly ridiculous as a result of weight loss (hoorah, although muted as I have WeightWatchers this evening and ate like a pig over Crimbo). But in Monsoon I tried on pretty dresses I could nearly afford and lots of other fancy, floaty things. I said no, after about a half-hour of prancing around the dressing room, to a beautiful dress that was Titania-esque and picked a fluffy angora and silk top in the most gorgeous shade of green and lots of nice jewellery instead. I love clothes, can you tell?

Jeezy Creezy, what a long post. Je suis fatigue.