DON'T LOOK AT ME IN THAT TONE OF VOICE! IT SMELLS A FUNNY COLOUR.

I have synesthesia. It's not a disease, it's just a thing. A lot of people have it, and often don't really realise that they're synesthetic because it's not in any way detrimental to your health, nor is it particularly odd if you've grown up with it all of your life. It's a bit like having brown eyes, some people do, some people don't. But it's not the same for everyone. Synesthesia is when your brain doesn't communicate with itself in the 'normal' way, and your senses sort of get mixed up. Some people, for example, see colours when they hear sounds, and for some people it's very vivid. Some associate an actual tangible distance when it comes to concepts of time, for example Monday will always be two feet in front of you, slightly to the left. And I, I taste in colour; and when I touch things, I will taste a colour (for example, to touch an orange (the most hideous of all fruits) it tastes brown, with a golfball like texture, and crayon brown).

I never really knew this was odd until I went to the doctors a few years back. about something entirely unrelated, and he asked me to describe a taste, and I said it tasted really white. The whitest white you'll ever taste. He looked at me bemused, and I just went quiet. Not long ago I was asked if I wouldn't mind taste testing some products for a supermarket, and I said yes, because I like free food. And as lovely as some of this food was, when they were asking me to rate certain elements like the sweetness of the flavour etc. I suddenly realised I was having to translate what they were saying in a way that I could understand, because things don't taste sweet or sour or spicey. I was tryign to work out if it meant pale, textured, dull or bright. Eventually it got to the point where I was just getting confused, so I quickly guessed at numbers and got out with my free thank you chocolate bar.
to try and give an example by what I mean about tasting in colour, I'm going to share an extract from my diary (yes, my actual, real life, full on diary. Feel lucky reader!):

"There's a smell, it's a countryside smell, though I do not know the source, and it's a highly beautiful smell. It does not go all the way up your nose, rather it feels to hit a blockade at the top of your nostrils. It smells the most wonderful grey, like the clearing raincloud of grey, except with the texture of smoke, and for the brief time it is assaulting one's senses, it give everything one touches a most wonderful silvery tang."


I'll allow the lovely Stephen Fry to explain this further.

WHO DOESN'T HEART A HYDE?

'Jekyll and Hyde' is a great novel, one of the all time greats. If you've not read it you'll've heard of it. Everybody knows the story of Doctor Henry Jekyll....... don't they? Or do people just think they do? Commercialisation after commercialisation, retelling after retelling and reference after reference means that the actual story has been very much lost.
Jekyll and Hyde are not good and evil, god and the devil, your good side and your dark side. The story is something much more human than that.

Henry Jekyll is an upstanding member of the community, he is a good man that does good deeds. Respectable and polite, and must appear at all times to be so. So he takes a potion, and a madman appears, a monster takes over his consciousness and kills a man, right? No. Jekyll creates a potion that has the express intent of changing his physical appearance, and only his physical appearance. He still has the mind of Henry Jekyll, he is the same man in a different body. So why? What is Hyde?

Hyde is a disguise, the ultimate and perfect disguise. Hyde lets Henry be who he wants to be, but who society and social standing will not allow him to be. Hyde is rude and impertinent. He cares little, if anything, for social convention. When he tramples the small girl in the opening of the book, what offends the by passers is not the screaming child and the horror of his actions, but the fact that he makes no pretence of being sorry or offended. He doesn't care what people think of him!

The reason Jekyll stops being Hyde is because Hyde he kills a man and Jekyll does not wish to be imprisoned in his body (irony). Reading it, it is not hard to consider whether Jekyll would have struck out. Probably not killed him, he is stronger in Hyde's body, we know this, but you can't argue that it's Jekyll's temper on display. We know he's capable of being calm and thinking with the same genius he was using at the start of the book because when he is incapable of swapping bodies back, he works in his lab with the same fervour and intellect, just in the body of Hyde.

Hyde's body let's Jekyll be who he truly wants to be, where nothing is at stake, nothing can be lost. He can be as insulting and as rude as he pleases without fear of anyone besmirching his reputation. That's where retellings get it wrong, they tell the story of Hyde not Jekyll, of the monster, of the madman. Because we love that character. So why does everyone heart a Hyde? Because these are the characters that we fall in love with. Nobody wants to watch/listen to/read about somebody who follows social conventions at all times because they're boring. They're us. People who follow the rules and live ordinary live. Just ordinary. But somebody who breaks away from that. Who becomes Hyde, now they are well worth telly time.

Think of Banksy as the great example we have of Hyde. Whoever he is, by day he's just a bloke. Follows the rules and live his life. But then he changes, he changes into a deviant who is loved and loathed in equal measure, and as an audience, we love that! Hamlet no longer cares for his standing at the court, he wears his heart on his sleeve and we become enraptured by his story, he breaks the norms without care for convention. He's Hyde. A better Shakespeare example being Edmund ('King Lear') who when in public plays the perfect, clean son, with the perfect reputation, alone he becomes himself, an evil and manipulating man. Hyde! Comedians are loved because they tell the stories we want to hear about the conventions we're obligated to follow being broken. Everybody wants to tell the patronising bank manager to piss off, comedians tell the anecdote where that happens. Sitcoms put show us people breaking the conventions and the humour derives from the situation they are put in. Hydes one and all.
Every actor becomes Hyde the second they step onstage. The moment they become a character they can do anything they like without the fear of it damaging how people see them, what you do in character is not you, you are someone else. You can do anything without fear of it damaging your reputation as a human being. It's safe onstage, it's a place to be Hyde.


Everybody loves Hyde, because of who he is and who we want to be. What he represents is not evil, it's not bad. Stevenson puts forward a dark example, yes. It drives the narrative forward, it forces the audience to ask questions and it makes for a good book. But don't let people tell you that Jekyll and Hyde are good and evil, go and read the book. Think it through for yourself, see what you find instead of what you've been told to look for. Perhaps you'll agree with them, perhaps you'll agree with me; or perhaps you'll find something else, something beautiful and interesting that no one else has spotted. If you do, be sure to go against the social convention and tell the world about it.

"YES, AND I TREAT EVERYONE AS THOUGH THEY WERE A FLOWER GIRL"

Were you to ask me whether or not I had ever seen a piece of theatre that had impressed me, naturally I would've said yes. A piece of theatre that had ever really got me thinking? Of course. A piece of theatre that had ever actually changed my life? Up until very recently, I would've had to say no. But now, I think I have. I know I have. Watching Bernard Shaw's 'Pygmalion' at the Royal Exchange theatre has changed the way I view the world, it's changed how I view myself. For the first time I have seen a piece of theatre that has managed to change me. I know! Deep or what?

'Pygmalion' is a play about Professor Henry Higgins (who was marvellously portrayed by Simon Robson! I actually cannot emphasise enough how perfect a performance his was!) trying to change Eliza Doolittle from flower girl to lady. From a 'common as muck' woman to somebody who could pass into the company of royalty without them batting an eyelid. And initially he relishes the task that was a bet from Colonel Pickering, looking upon it as quite an exiting academic task;

"You have no idea how frightfully interesting it is to take a human being and change her into a quite different human being..."

All he seems to be forgetting is the human element of it all. The emotions and feelings that seem to bypass him on his intellectual cloud. Reading the programme before the performance I found myself fully respecting Bernard Shaw's decision to make sure that there was never a romance in this play. Initially, after he directed it and set it off on tour, his actors took it upon themselves to alter the ending, to ensure a romance between Eliza and Higgins, and I can only imagine Shaw's anger. I know that had that been the way that it had ended I would've felt angry (perhaps not angry, but definitely let down). It would've ruined these wholly believable characters and made it feel like a play. Like a love story, and it isn't. It's so much better than that. It's about a friendship, and intellectual friendship, two minds equally as capable as the other learning from one another. One academic, and one human. Think of it as Holmes and Watson without the crimes or drugs. (Actually, Higgins is entirely Sherlock Holmes, which is probably why I love the character so much.)

I do entirely admire Henry Higgins, more so than I have any other character. Largely because he appears not to care at all about how society perceives him. He knows he is incredibly brilliant at what he does, and that he is of a much greater intelligence than most of the people he is surrounded by. He doesn't use this to belittle them, if they wish to learn he will teach them, but he doesn't want his time wasted. I envy his outlook on the world, and the following bit of text is the one that changed my life.
(I am typing this entirely from memory, so I apologise if this isn't exactly word for word).

"Eliza: That's the difference between you and Colonel Pickering. He treats everyone, be they flower girl or lady, as though they were a lady.

Higgins: Yes, and I treat everyone as though they were a flower girl."

'What's so good about that?' I hear you cry. (Naturally I don't hear you cry that, not unless you are hiding in my room, which would concern my greatly.... I don't think I'm ready for a stalker at this moment in time. It's not me, it's you.) It's the philosophy behind it. I think it's something I've always wanted to be able to do, but never had the courage. to be able to treat everyone equally, and not rudely, but not to give people respect they don't deserve (I find it hard to word this, which is why I like the quote so much, it embodies everything I want to be). And really, I've always loved the characters that can do this, from Hamlet to Holmes, all the way up to the Doctor.
And I found myself suddenly sitting up straight in the theatre and realising, I wanted that to be me. Not a linguistic genius with a penchant for accents, but somebody who was brilliant at what they do. Who became excited by wanting to learn more, and somebody who viewed all equally. Not scared to be who they are, confident in what they can achieve, able to be objective about their work, and who will not treat people differently because they should, because they're higher in the hierarchy, be it social or otherwise.

This is it, this is my new motto, my mantra, my way of seeing the world. Everybody out there is a flower girl, and I have so much more to discover that I find myself excited by theatre in a way I never have been before.

It's more than just thrilling, fun and thought provoking; it's life changing.

DON'T READ THIS POST, IT'S NOT VERY GOOD.

Ok, so... it is officially the end of year one. No longer am I a fresher at St. Mary's University College, so here's me basically reflecting on the academic year just passed, and the effect it's had on me.

The thing is, I'm not sure it's been entirely positive. I'm much more self aware than I have ever been before, and notice things and am more analytical of myself, which is arguably a good thing. But, I've lost all confidence in my abilities. Give me a paragraph or two, let me try to explain the thoughts in my head.

I now know that I am shit working in large groups, I just disappear and let someone else take over because, and I realise this is terrible, because that's easy. Invariably there's somebody much more intelligent, or with a better idea, or with a greater capability to vocalise their idea whilst you struggle to form functioning sentences with actual real life words. I am also now very aware that I need reassurance to feel confident in doing something. I need someone to tell me I'm good at it, which is appallingly childish and immature. Surely this just means I need to grow up?
And I've always been aware that anybody who tried that reverse psychology bullshit of not being positive in the hope I'll try harder in order to garner compliments will never work on me. Ever. Sorry, I just don't care that much about any one person's opinion.

I realise that all of the following is stuff that I can work on and change, but I now have no confidence in my acting ability. I mean, I was never under the illusion that I was the next Laurence Olivier, but still.
I'm also scared of directing. I've started writing a stage version of 'Jekyll and Hyde' and was contemplating submitting it to the drama society and asking them, if they didn't hate it, if I could direct it. And then found myself thinking I could never do that, I found myself getting genuinely scared about directing a play here, which sucks! I quite like directing, but again I seem to have lost all confidence in my abilities. =(

And the one thing that I am truly genuinely saddened by that has happened at university, is that I've not been able to sing.
The walls here are paper thin, so I can't sing in my room because everyone would be able to hear me, and there's truly nothing better than belting out a good old song completely out of tune but fuck it anyway! AND I CAN'T DO THAT HERE! =( I can't belt out a song in class because I'm in a room full of people, but yeah. I miss singing.


This is a really weird and pointless blog post, but I thought I write it out anyway. At least I now know what my weaknesses are. And, let's face it, these are all things that I can work on and change.


This is a cactus:

WHAT A TWIT!

So this post is totally going to be me defending Twitter. It's possibly the famous of the social networking sites currently online and, being the modern techno whizz-kid that I am, I've been on twitter for a while.

I jumped aboard the twitter bandwagon before it was a popular one, also I was following Mr Fry before the millions, I feel like I'm allowed to be defensive about it, especially when twats like David Cameron attempt wordplay, and people slate it just because everyone is using it.
That's a surprising popular thing, "If everyone one is using it, then obviously I hate it/it must be shit". It's like in when charity bands were the big thing, schools banned them. Why? I am incapable of giving a none-sarcastic answer. There was no good reason to put a ban on them! The other thing is mobile phones, when they first became a big thing, no! When they first became a big thing with youth, that's when people starting attacking.


This post hasn't been provoked by anything negative, more because I've just checked my twitter feed, and have been informed of a number of important news stories (Just as an aside, Well bloody done! I wholly support every head teacher who is not forcing their students to sit the SAT'S exams.), and have laughed constantly, not just by the various celebrities on my news feed (Hello Mr. Fry! He's back in the country! Can't wait for the new book!), most of whom are comedians, so they're supposed to make me laugh. But the 'normal' people. The just every day people who say what they have to say. And sometimes it's heartbreaking, and sometimes it's heartwarming; and sometimes they can make you laugh more than any professional.

Twitter has proven itself as a force for good a number of times over, such as the Jan Moir article, the various charitable causes that are RT'd by people such as Stephen Fry or David Mitchell. And only the ignorant slate it. To imagine that twitter is some childish, unnecessary thing that only the ignorant and immature use, shows a degree of ignorance and immaturity far greater than mine. I'm not saying that it should be obligatory, that everyone has to use it and that if you don't like it you're a freak of nature, I'm just saying that if you've never used it, how can you ever fully appreciate or understand it?

IT'S BEEN A FUNNY OLD WEEK!

Last Wednesday I saw the drama society's production of 'Accidental Death of an Anarchist' (Dario Fo) which was bloody brilliant. I genuinely didn't expect it to be as good as it was, despite the marvellous reviews, there's always a degree of 'Mustn't upset the students', but I've got to say (taking nobodies feelings into account) it was marvellous. Being (don't judge me) a bit of a Gleek (yes, I capitalised it. Build a bridge, get over it) a bit of 'Don't Stop Believing' karaoke is always welcome, and Mikey O'Neill (who you don't know, but one day will) playing a role he was born for.

Roll on Thursday and say hello to my directing assessment, and the first person to have chosen a comedy as apposed to something all, you know, serious. The opening of John Godber's 'Teechers' (Just taking a moment to pause and recommend that if you ever have an opportunity to watch one of Godber's plays, do so. They're so good!) was the script that I eventually chose, having read about forty, but for this reason and that reason had to ditch.
I'll confess, it wasn't the prospect of directing a comedy that was incredibly daunting, as opposed to directing a comedy that wasn't black (I think you'll find that's the correct linguistic term, not racism thank you very much). Darker stuff, the stuff where you know that you shouldn't laugh but can't help it, that stuff is easy. It's the nice stuff that I was scared of. But it went swimmingly. A few edits to the script, a touch of wordplay, more parody than you can shake a stick at, and a couple of outright insults (meant and (thankfully) taken in good humour!) meant that it actually went down a success. Obviously not perfect, looking back on it there are a million things I'd change to make it better, but still. Bright side and all that.

Then we move on to Saturday, and after a 180 mile trek back to the north I was running a Shakespeare workshop for the 'A Taste of Shakespeare' event being run by the Oldham Coliseum Theatre. A workshop that involved being funny. It involved having to be willing to make a fool of yourself, to just let go (which I am the first to admit is something I'm absolutely terrible at, yet the folk I had were absolutely marvellous. I can't thank them enough); and (and here's the risky bit) using bits of scripts from one of Shakespeare's comedies. Comedies famous for not being funny.

(NOTE TO SELF: stop using parenthesis so often!)

We used Act 1 Scene 2 from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', the first scene with the Mechanicals as it has a nice number of people and enough material to properly play around with. I won't bore you with the details of the actual workshop, but wish to point out that it was funny! Everyone was having fun. Everyone cracked jokes, got the satire, performed brilliantly, and thoroughly enjoyed the comedy of it.

This is all massive pre-amble to a post all about comedy. Comedy is massive, currently there are stand up comedians who are outselling bands and singers in massive stadiums. It's the new rock and roll, and personally, nothing pleases me more.
(That's a lie, a lot of things please me more. Call it poetic licence)

I like to think of myself as something of a connoisseur of comedy. There are very few stand-ups I haven't heard of, sitcoms I haven't had a go at watching, panel shows that I haven't seen. My twitter feed is littered with comedians telling me about their cats (Susan Calman), sock length (Rob Brydon), or baby anecdotes (Mark Watson, Jason Manford, Robert Webb, etc.). I thoroughly enjoy comedy, and am in great admiration of those who have the ability to make people laugh. This world can be fantastically grim. Really it can. We, as people, as societies, are capable of some monstrous and horrific things. It's not nice, but it's true. We're in a bloody war that only seems to get worse. We're still struggling back from the worst economic recession we've had. Our children are an ASBO nation (I say 'our', I don't have kids, but am not young enough to be classed as one). Our prisons are full, our patience thin, our extremists getting louder and our society facing struggle after struggle.
And I think that it is a beautiful thing, an astonishing and amazing and immense thing, a thing to make you feel proud about Britain, that our society is flooded with comedy. British stand ups are considered the best in the world, we have hundreds of stand up venues, it is becoming more and more accessible and more people than ever are standing up and giving it a go, making Britain laugh. I think it's a brilliant thing that as our society gets more and more negative labels, our comedy industry has exploded, and now we have more comedians than we know what to do with. Quick! Commission another panel show!

The fact that satire is so integrated into our culture is a great thing, and although my natural instinct is to be negative toward our politicians, I give them one thing; Gordon Brown mightn't like being satirized and parodied on our screens. Cameron might not like the fact that people only love his poster campaign for the purposes of doodling. Clegg may not particularly enjoy that (until very recently) he was famous for being the guy that wasn't famous. They might not like being a laughing stock, but at least they are.

I would always choose to be here, in a 'Broken Britain' without 'the family' and 'failing systems', that is filled with laughter, than a perfect country where funny is not allowed.


"Lift up your head. Release the tension in those shoulders. And laugh. Because laughter's only human. Laughter keeps us in the moment and it keeps us on our toes. Laughter separates us from the gods while binding us closer together. If you're looking for a miracle, look no further than your most recent belly laugh. Maybe a friend made you clutch your sides till you shook with glee, maybe an old episode of 'Fraiser' had you howling on the carpet. Either way: in that moment you were immortal. and that, my friend, is as sacred as it gets."

Charlie Brooker, 'The Atheist's Guide to Christmas'

DROMIO OH DROMIO!

I went to see 'The Comedy of Errors' at the Royal Exchange Theatre on Saturday, which was interesting. the acting was largely brilliant and saved the play from the flaws in direction. The two Dromios (Owain Arthur and Michael Jibson) were utterly incredible! I cannot emphasise enough just how perfect they were in these roles, stealing the show with a fine aplomb! Catch it if you can.

I love the Exchange, and recently decided that it is definitely my favourite theatre. This is partially due to the fact that with our directing assessments the scenes we must do have to be set in the round, which a lot of people have struggled with and really not been happy about. And this is mainly because, for most people, a majority of the theatre that see is on a proscenium/end on stage, so being in the round is increasingly awkward if you haven't really seen a lot of it. Whereas I've been going to the Exchange since I was 11, and have seen some amazing plays, and some quite rubbish ones. So I sort of know what works and what doesn't, what plays fit and what techniques that work beautifully on other stages just won't here. (Does that sound pretentious?)

Anyhoo! The Royal Exchange Theatre is right in the heart of Manchester city centre, it has two spaces, the theatre and the studio. The theatre itself is like a large bubble that sits in the centre of the great hall, seating 700, making it the largest theatre in the round in Britain, 400 at ground level, the rest above the stage. So no matter where you are sat you have an awesome view. The studio is a flexible little space that seats about 120, it is also brilliant.

The layout is really gorgeously cool as everything seems to radiate out from the stage itself, and there have been some epic shows there. Firstly, Mr Matthew Dunster has done both 'Macbeth' and '1984' at the Exchange, and both have been completely amazing. I think 'Macbeth' is possibly one of the greatest things I have ever, ever seen in the theatre. It was incredibly visual and spectacular and clever on so many levels. '1984' which was on only recently was again, utterly astonishing, but in a very different way to 'Macbeth'. It was very clever in a very quiet way, lots of small and subtle but beautiful things made it a pleasure to watch, and the torture scene!! Oh my word!! You know that it's not real. You know he's not really being branded with an iron, he isn't really using those pliers, his face wasn't actually smashed into the floor, it's not real! But even I wanted to cry out 'Just say five!' as Winston was being electrocuted. It was amazing! And to boon of being able to see the rest of the audience meant that you could see everyone else cringing and covering their eyes. There is no doubt that Dunster is a most immensely talented director! (And I did travel a sort of three hundred mile round trip to go and see '1984'.) Twas immense.

I'm not a hundred per cent sure where this post is going. I guess I just want to say that the Exchange is AWESOME and everyone should pay it a visit. I'm I have to be here in Twickenham with the upcoming season looking so very good, including the poet Laurette herself rocking up for an evening or two.

I've decided that were I to end up working at the Exchange I would be very, very happy and content.

WOOT!

'THIS IS TRUE- TRUER THAN ANYTHING ELSE I WILL EVER WRITE, FEEL, OR KNOW. WHAT I AM NOW IS ME. WHAT I WILL BE IS A LIE"

I've recently been re-reading 'Moab is my Washpot', the first installment of the autobiography of Mr. Steven Fry (whom I greatly admire!), because it is a good read, and an amazing autobiography (having only read a handful of autobiographies ('Never have your dog stuffed' Alan Alda; 'And it's Goodnight from Him' The Two Ronnies; 'Dear Fatty' Dawn French; 'Look Back in Hunger' Jo Brand; and obviously 'Moab is my Washpot' Stephen Fry)) will happily place it at the top of the list.

But an analysis of the book itself can wait, what I wish to ramble about is that it's got me thinking, predominantly of two separate themes. Firstly: writing; Secondly: Riding for a fall.
______________________________________________________

1)

I hate it, genuinely hate it, cringe, pull funny faces, joke about the topic, want to die hate it, when people ask me what I want to do as a career. Partially because most of the jobs within the theatre/performing arts industry sound ridiculously pretentious. "Oh, I wish to be an actor/director/blah blah self-sanctifying blah"; and partially because I never really know. I have a great passion for Shakespeare (and quite a lot of Elizabethan/Jacobean literature). I thoroughly enjoy directing plays, I also thoroughly enjoy acting (though I am well aware of my lack of talent). I had a brief period of considering a comedy career but, apparently, in order to be a comic one must be funny. Not likely then.
But the one thing, the one horrible, pretentious thing that has always been there in my life. The one thing that, had I the balls I would openly admit I wanted to do 'when I grow up', is write.

I want to be a writer.

Even typing it fills me with dread. I'm not sure that sentence will actually make the final post.
I want to write 'Doctor Who', I want to write plays, and poetry (don't judge me). I do, in a nobody-will-ever-ever-read-this way. My vague comedy dreams circulated around me writing sketches. I have all these stories and ideas zooming around my mind that I really want to write and have people see them, read them, experience them. I don't want it to be a secret, I want to be good enough that I needn't fear it. That I won't think up a damn good line and then think "What a pity nobody will ever see it".
But.... I'm not that good. I'm not a master of the English language. I can barely manage the complexities of a normal conversation with a cabbie, let alone scribe lines that could pass the scrutiny of a publisher/producer/director/(God forbid)audience.

"You'll never know unless you try!"

I don't want to try. I don't want to try because I don't want to fail. This is something that I love and by keeping it purely to myself my delusions of grandeur shall never be shattered by somebody saying "Well... that's shit."

_____________________________________________________

2)

That was merely the first train of thought Mr. Fry set about my mind. The second becomes even more narcissistic in nature. This is the one thing that I have been told by every teacher I have encountered that knew my name. This is something I have been told by family and friends alike. For as long as mankind has been a master of the disapproving look I have been looked at disapprovingly whilst informed of the following.

I am riding for a fall.

A few simple facts:

-I have never revised for an exam. I am yet to fail an A-Level/GCSE/whatever (though I have intentionally sabotaged a couple of papers because of boredom).

-I have never written an essay/started an assignment more than a day ahead of time. Again, am yet to fail one.

-I have never sat down and actively learnt lines. I have never dried onstage.

-I have often left scenes undirected until the last minute waiting for inspiration to strike. (Rather unfairly meaning that anybody working with me needs to be damn on the ball and able to work well and work quick.)

-I have gone to run workshops with nothing prepared and just improvised.

-I leave most of my life until the last possible minute and somehow seem to get away with it. It rarely crosses my mind that it wouldn't get done. Starting my A-Level English Language coursework at 02:00am on the day it was due it never crossed my mind that it wouldn't happen, because it does. It always does.

This isn't arrogance. I never really flaunt these facts and this attitude, it isn't very becoming. This really, honestly, sincerely isn't me saying 'Look how clever I am' because I'm really not. I often fear my IQ dips below double digits, so grand is my incompetence at life. Just the everyday aspects of life like conversation, being normal, paying attention, maintaining the social norms etc. These are just the facts. These are the reasons why I have been told, for as long as I can remember, that I am going to fail one day and that I shall deserve it.
One day I shall get a shock when I am fail at something for which I have not tried. (I would also like to impress upon you that I do try at things. I have occasionally been known to work very hard, for all the good it's done.)

What I have been riding on throughout my educational career thus far is not intelligence (L, O, and L), as opposed to luck. I rather imagine, taking the example of my English coursework, that I only did rather well because my teacher had never seen an episode of 'Doctor Who' in his life, not because of my skillful linguistic analysis. I like the imagine the staffroom conversation was something like:

"A: What's a Rutan?

B: I dunno, but they're at war with the Sontarans.

A: The what?

B: *shrugs shoulders* Apparently they were invented by Robert Holmes.

A: Is he an alien?

B: He's the writer!

A: *Confused face* Sod it, we'll give her an A"


But, rarely does effort (in my education) pay off. Looking now at the first term of my time at university. The things in which I did well were those for which I could have hardly put in less effort. In some cases the only way that I could have put less effort in would have been not to write the damn things. However, the module in which I put in the effort, I remained conscious and actually paid attention, took stuff in and did the reading; at that I failed miserably. I showed exactly zero improvement throughout the course of the term.
This is only the most recent of a lifetime of examples. If I try at something, rather if I have to try at something, I'm shit at it. And I'm rather fed up at being shit at the stuff that I like as opposed to the stuff I couldn't give a damn about.

This also appears to have gone off on something of a tangent. And has no real conclusion. One day I will crash and burn, the people in my life have happily and continually informed me of this. Statistics inform me of this, my luck has to run out. I can't live a life on chance.

There appears to be, somewhere within me, lord knows how it got there but it is deeply embedded, a sort of blasé faire mentality that I cannot seem to shake. It's probably immaturity, a sort of 'Fuck you!' way of seeing the world. You insult me, you fail me, I shall just become more introvert, less co-operative, less organised. If you must keep telling me that I am 'riding for a fall' then the childish part of my brain shall merely climb onto my metaphorical horse, place a blindfold over my eyes and thunder onward; because I can. It is yet to let me down.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

So, there you go. Those are two pools of thought taking up precious brain space that I thought I would share with... well, nobody.


There's an odd safety in posting all this here, because I know nobody reads it. Nobody gives a shit. It's rather liberating.

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW.....

Let's have a show where a bunch of people who are dreaming of a stage career have to keep singing a song about dreaming. There's a producer somewhere who must be very pleased with himself I'm sure.

Every time I watch something like 'Over the Rainbow' or 'I'll Do Anything' I spend the entire time going "I could do that!"

I couldn't, but I can dream!

I think I have a very strange relationship with singing, in that I love it, I really genuinely do. More so than I'm capable of expressing with my stunted vocabulary. There's such a feeling of freedom, something intangible happens, which is a bugger because I like things to be both obvious and simple. Anything more will destroy my analysis-reliant way of seeing the world. And if I'm alone, with absolutely NO CHANCE OF BEING HEARD AT ALL WHATSOEVER! I can belt out a tune with the best of them (this is a lie, but that's how it feels). Of course, the second someone is within earshot I can't do it. This is pretty much because I'm very aware that in reality I'm not very good, however in my daydreams I am every major west end role. (And in my imagination, I am very, very good!)

But, I've sort of persevered with singing despite people telling me not to. I still rock up to sing out of tune at the odd choir. My nieces, who must be nice to me because I buy them stuff, have heard me sing almost every song I know, and getting them to sing, to see them genuinely loving it makes me really happy. Few folks have said 'Stop it Evans, you're hurting my ears' in so curt a sentence, (apart from one) but I'm well aware I'm clinging onto a... well, it can't even be described as a dying dream, it was never really alive. And it sucks! To want to be good at something and to suck so badly at something you love doing is a right pain up the arse.

[Just as an aside, I'm listening to an 'Awesome Show tunes'-esque album whilst writing this. Who is this Barbara Streisand.... like, whatever!]

I realise this is a really whiny post after months of nothing (I have no excuse, I am just lazy) but I suppose what really annoys me is that I'm not going to do anything to change the way things are. I'm the only person in the world that gives a damn whether or not I can sing, and I'm neither talented nor charismatic enough for anyone else to bother (I'm doubting anybody would have made it this far through this blog post). I'm not going to get singing lessons because I'm too self conscious, (and probably couldn't afford them), and, as the saying goes, you can't polish a turd. (I hate that phrase! But cannot think of a better way to word it!)

So, back to singing in the shower and quietly hating all the people I meet who actually have talent. I don't care how nice they are, if you can sing and I can't, you are on my hit list.

¬_¬

NORTHERN SNOW > SOUTHERN SNOW

THE MISSION: BUILD NEW AGENT, CONSISTING ENTIRELY OF FROZEN H2O

AGENTS: SECRET AGENTS KATFLAP AND JAMMY DODGER

TIME: EIGHTEEN HUNDRED HOURS

VISUAL AID: CAMERA BROKEN, OLD VISUALS USED TO PROVIDE EXAMPLES OF PREVIOUS WORK

ACTIONS: Sadly it must be reported that much snow was lost before the mission could take place due to a snowball fight. However, the agents struggled on despite the cold, cold snow. It has been observed that Agent Jammy Dodger has very much gained her father's tendency to complain about every little thing ("Auntie Kat... this snow doesn't work!" Come on now child. How hard is it to roll a snowball?). Agent Katflap was also observed muttering obscenities at the snow (thankfully out of the hearing of Agent Jammy Dodger) that the snow was particularly hard to roll.
At this point again the two agents descended into an altercation involving much throwing of snow. I would not recommend these agents for serious action.

Eventually the snow had been collated into three spheres, which were then stacked one atop of the other. After this there was a manic hunt for a necessary implement in their new agent, however, once found the carrot was place within the head to form the nasal passage of new agent. Adequate twigs were discovered and delicately placed to form limbs, and stones for visual and vocal purposes.
Also, the stones were rather superfluously placed to form buttons on none existent clothes. It is recommended that before the next snowfall these agents undergo basic accessorising training.
A hat and a scarf later the new agent is complete. Upon what appeared to be a fairly strenuous thought process, Agent Jammy Dodger named him 'Snow'. A hot chocolate later, with 'The Muppet Christmas Carol' playing on the new HD piece of televisual equipment within Agent Katflap's home, both agents fell into a slumber.

MISSION EVALUATION: Lots and lots of fun! =D

THIS IS NOT A PIPE

Last day of work today! Handed in all my essays, all my performances for this year have been performed, and my very last lecture is long gone. Woo!
In our last lecture we had to discuss the piece of theatre we had made and things that we had learnt and discovered about creating theatre that we had not previously known. The play we made was, well, not brilliant (though, admittedly, it's allowed to be a bit rubbish, only a first year!) and Dan was trying to describe how we wanted the piece to not be in your face, but rather to resonate, and this got me thinking.
I've been doing far too much thinking recently, for Christmas I shall allow my brain a day off, it never comes up with any good stuff anyway.

In my opinion (I'm aware that I'm not really educated enough to have an opinion to hold any weight, and that none of this will be original, but bear with me) there are basically three different types of theatre. There's theatre for escapism and entertainment, that's purely there to make you happy and therefore the happiness will last for as long as the show plus however long you can remember it/until someone spills coffee on you on the tube. There's theatre that is very much in your face and yelling at you 'THIS IS AN ISSUE! DO SOMETHING!' that again only lasts as long as you are in the experience. And then there's the theatre (which we were aiming for) that relies upon a sort of aftershock effect. This idea that, when watching the play, there's perhaps not as big a response as one would expect, but something about it just sticks. There's something about it that makes you think, perhaps something would be said or seen in life that relates to an image or a line in the play, and that sets you thinking, and only once that process has been set in motion do you fully appreciate the play and what was done and said. I think that that type of theatre often sticks with you for longer. Not that I'm saying any type is better or worse than the other, it's just what I think.

The best example I can think of to try and explain my aftershock theory is a painting by Rene Magritte of a pipe (a smoker's pipe, not a lead one in the study with Professor Plum) and underneath it written 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe', 'This is not a pipe'. I love this painting partially because it's not a painting you have to study, it's a little pocket painting that you can look at, not making much of an impact it must be said, remember and take away. It's not like a Dali piece which you spend ages peering at and studying and finding all the glorious intricacies of it, you just have to remember how it looks.
The first time I saw this painting I was only about fourteen and my first reaction was very much 'Of course it's a pipe, weirdo' and I never thought much of it afterwards. Until it was brought up in an episode of 'Boston Legal' where a girl who couldn't smile painted herself looking glum and captioned it 'The Smiling Girl' saying how Magritte had inspired it. I then thought of the painting, I saw it as something very different, now it was something hypocritical, it made hypocrites of the viewers as it tricked you into objecting when you didn't know the story.
The next time I had call to recollect this painting was during our a-level devised piece which was based on the stimulus of 'dreams'. This time when I thought of this pipe that is not a pipe I saw it as something of an hallucination, an 'is this a dagger I see before me' type image. And during this blog post thinking about the painting that I love I've realised that I now see it as a painting that keeps secrets. It knows something that we do not and we will never know (I ought point out that I've never seen or read anything by the artist talking about the painting, I don't want to).

I like to think I can keep track of my mental maturity with how I see this painting. But it does sort of link with the point that I was trying to make, if not in a very rambly and long winded way, sorry. I'm not sure who will still be reading this far (I'm not sure who will actually be reading this at all). I also realise how incredibly geeky I sound discussing my opinion on art... sorry.
I tried to defend my non-geekiness and somehow managed to share the fact that I am in possession of a chess board where all the pieces are shots glasses, so that when you capture a piece you down the shot. It's great! Possibly some of the finest chess I have ever played.

ALSO...

Sorry, two posts in such a short time is quite ridiculous, but I feel the need to say
I really miss Shakespeare!! None of the work we've done thus far is Shakespeare, and I'm really sad. It's just because when I went walking yesterday (I have a tendency to stage plays in my head as I walk) I started directing a version of 'Macbeth' and got really enthusiastic about it, and realised just how much I missed working with that William bloke. (I realise loads of people hate Shakespeare, but I read (and SAW them! SAW!!! They're plays! You're supposed to watch them! They make so much more sense when read aloud, honest!) it before I was old enough to be cynical, and genuinely love the good plays (not the shit ones he wrote, and he wrote some) and read them of my own volition instead of having a bored teacher talk at a bored class.)

..... I should get to work now. Essays to write.

£400! ='( [OK WELL, £385, BUT WHATEVER....]

So, just got back from auditioning for '4.48 Psychosis' (which I love! Genuinely! It's awesome! However she only wants two people (preferably men) so yeah... not gonna be in that play am I? )= Shucks). Anyhow, Keith Johnstone! Keith Johnstone is a theatre bloke, who wrote a theatre book (these past two posts are very studenty aren't they? Ooh, Howard would be proud!) called 'Impro', which I read, and is AWESOME!.

Essentially there are four points Johnstone makes (at least, there are four main things that I got from the book. I'm assuming someone cleverer would spot more interesting stuff than myself, but hey ho). They are: 1) School and education are a destructive process. 2) Status games are everywhere. 3) Everyone is scared that they are a little bit insane. 4) Everyone is a little bit insane.

It's a really, really good book, (Can't emphasise this enough!) and Johnstone is now my new favourite theatre practitioner bloke. Basically, I was hooked the moment he started talking about how much he hated school and how the school system was generally bad. He writes about how once he was reading a poem and started crying. He wrote that "If I had cried at school the teacher would have been horrified. I realised my school had been teaching me not to respond". He writes how a young girl was in the garden with her nurse, the nurse pointed out a flower and said how beautiful it was. The girl says that all the flowers were equally beautiful but the nurse insisted that hers was more so. "Actually, it is insane to insist that one flower is more beautiful in a whole garden of flowers, but adults are expected to warp the perceptions of children in this way.
I hated school, and was therefore a horrible student. I didn't do essays, I skived off lessons, I hated quite a few of my teachers and quite a few of my teachers hated me. If I didn't see the point in doing something I didn't do it. I don't blame my teachers, of course I don't. It was my fault I didn't do the work. It was my fault I didn't try harder. I have never revised for an exam in my life, because I never felt the need to. One of the reasons I chose the university that I'm at (as much as I do love it, and it's a very good course, and nearly two hundred miles away from home (always a boon)) is that it had the lowest grade boundaries to get in. "then you should have revised!!" I can imagine many a thought process going. If only I'd've worked harder I'd be cleverer. But I didn't want to. It was all so dull, and I am so average that nobody ever bothered. I was a horrible student, but because my grades were neither good enough or bad enough to warrant special attention I got away with all kinds of hell. And that was my mentality toward education. And here's a bloke who's written a book saying 'I hated it to. And it wasn't my fault, in my opinion, the school is the one that got it wrong'. Right on!!
(I have never used that phrase before, I never intend to use it again.)
Uni is weird because I spent so much of my time in school kicking against convention, that to get here where everything I hated about school doesn't exist, was bizarre. I don't quite know what to do with myself if I'm not rebelling against something, I spent so much of school doing things begrudgingly that it is very much out of my comfort zone to be allowed to be enthusiastic without danger of earning a 'nerd' status. The fact that this book then goes on to say "Let go!", "Have fun!", "Everybody's mental, enjoy it! Use it!" means that I love it. (And am very much of the opinion that this should be compulsory reading for any future teacher! (Not that I am a future teacher! Don't panic! Good god could you imagine? I'd be worse than Mr.Doctor.Robot))

Linking back to the title, I googled Keith Johnstone, as I am a part on the DotCom generation, and discovered that he has a website. He's still wandering the globe giving workshops, 'Great!' thought I. He's in London once in 2010, 'Wow' the voice in my head exclaimed, 'I'm in London in 2010'. He will take all variety of people in his workshops, not just professional actors or really old or really young, in fact, the more variety the better! 'This means' said the voice, 'that I could potentially be in a workshop run by Keith Johnstone! This is awesome'. And it only [Pause! Mock the use of the word 'only'] costs £385. The voice in my head said sad, sad things.

Hence this sad, sad smiley = :'[

...GOOD...WEIRD...WEIRDER!

Saw some plays today (not uncommon for a drama student one would hope (Actually! I'm going to have to stop saying 'one' because everybody takes the piss!!! I'm sorry if my idiolect involves the correct use of personal pronouns! Bullies!)). We saw the level 3 folk move about a lot. That's quite a fair summary methinks. The plays were 'Numbers' (Good), 'We do it to ourselves' (Weird), and 'Cache' (Weirder!!). I'll be honest, this post is mostly going to be about 'Numbers' because I liked it most.

Also, slight interruption, I realise nobody reads this, but I'm posting more often!! Dude!! Be impressed!

'Numbers' essentially focused on the question 'How many people have you slept with'? It went over how some experiences (They replaced words like 'hold' and 'chest' with numbers, and I was so thinking of worse things than 'hold' when she was saying it!) were routine, the casual fuck that means nothing. They also had recordings of people discussing sexual encounters (real people, one of the voices was recognised. A girl talking about a time 'when [she] was still straight' and spent the night with a girl. There were a handful of sidewards glances and mouthing of 'Now way!' (Also, another digression, I'm right in thinking that 'Dyke' is no longer considered a PC term, because a surprising amount of people are using it! Including a lecturer!! The conversation went: "She could be a lesbian?" / "That's a question, is she a dyke?")). And then, the big thing, was your list. Your numbers.

It's that conversation. And the judgements that come with it. It's how many are you comparing me to? How special is this? It genuinely got me thinking (an evening of sex related plays and this was my thought process! My mind is so not a dirty as many would make it out to be!) because many people start this conversation with their drainpipes with a sentence similar to the following "It doesn't make any difference, I just want to know".
Bollocks! Of course it makes a difference. Perhaps not a massive difference, I would hope not a massive difference, but it does, no matter how much you mayn't want it to. Or is this just me? It's either more than you expect, or less than you expect. There's time before any relationship when you don't know them. They have an existence and creation and memories and heartaches and, as much as we care to imagine otherwise, love that we can never know. We can never be a part of it and there is a whole era of happiness that you know you did not cause. And the second you have that conversation, all of that time that you knew of, but didn't care to acknowledge, all becomes real. It becomes fact and unavoidable and true. It changes things.

Another point the play brought up was this question of how much numbers really matter. Does a high number make you a slut, or a low number frigid? There's an episode of 'Will and Grace' (Love 'Will and Grace'!!!!!) where they make lists of how many people they've slept with and Grace's number is higher than that of her boyfriend's. However, they then make another list of how many times they've had sex, rather than with how many people (I admire their memory skillage) and the boyfriend's number was substantially higher than Grace's, even though she'd slept with more. I think at one point Karen has a line "Well, it means that people enjoy sex with him more and you less" because they stick around longer with him. This may seem like a slight digression, but it's a valid point well made. Of how much importance are the numbers. "Too fucking important" we are informed within the performance.

I liked this play, unlike a lot of physical theatre shizz (especially student physical theatre shizz) it made sense. The concept and story (I use the term 'story' very loosely) were not only clear, but very clever. Also, the people in it were very good! I could never imagine being that healthy! The thought alone fills me with dread.... maybe I shall consume some Doritos to stave off the nightmares of exercise.

So yeah..... sex.


EDIT: One of my all time favourite quotes, a genuine question of a friend of mine:

"So, lesbian sex, fill me in!"

AND YOU ARE BETTER BECAUSE???

Now, I'm not particularly subtle about this in my life, but I LOVE Doctor Who! On facebook my religion is listed as Whovian. I have loved it for as long as I can remember and continue to love it still, and am getting increasingly fed up of having to defend myself.
I was listening to 'Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf' today, which is a brilliant,


Sorry, slight intermission there. Fire drill, the guys then locked me out of my room, and the security dude (most useless person I've encountered thus far) just looked at me with a blank expression and asked what I wanted him to do about it. Which is a fair point I suppose, after all, he could have thought that I was asking for a tent and sleeping bags to brave the bitter cold. Or even a lot of rope and a grapple hook to scale the walls of Old House and fall in through the window!

So... back to Doctor Who. 'Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf' is by Tony Hadoke and is basically him saying how much he loves it and why (with a few satirical swipes thrown in for good measure), and it's really awesome listening. It opens with:
"I was born to be a Doctor Who fan. I wasn't a strapping youth, I wasn't born with a macho gene, I wasn't born with the confidence gene... I needed a hero." He spoke of how the Doctor was always there when he needed him, that his mother would soften the blow of bad news by presenting him with a new Doctor Who novel, and that the Doctor was the one role model he could count on. He spoke of how he got bullied and how his tormentors said he must be gay to like Doctor Who
"Yes, I must be gay to watch a man save often scantily clad attractive young women from monsters, whereas [his bully] watched 22 handsome and sweaty men run around a pitch in shorts, hugging and kissing each other in celebration."

Genius! I suppose I really love this show as I'm listening to it days after having to defend my own admiration for this glorious, anarchic, witty, and (in David Tennant's case) incredibly good looking hero of mine. My conversation was something along the lines of them saying it's childish, and why do I like it, do I know all the stupid little trivial things like all the actors who have played the Doctor, and is this why I'm still single? And then me saying, well what TV do you watch? He was a corrie fan. And why does he watch it? Because it's interesting. And does he know the names of the actors who play the characters? Does he know the characters' histories and story lines? He did. So why is his escapism any more valid than mine? Why is it acceptable to be wrapped up in the lives of teenage mums and an unnaturally high crime rate, and not in the adventures of a Time Lord? The only difference between the two is that one is sci-fi and famous for its fan base, the other is a soap.

The actors to have played the Doctor (that count) are William Hartnell, Patrick Troughton, Jon Pertwee, Tom Baker, Peter Davidson, Colin Baker, Sylvester McCoy, Paul McGann, Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant and soon to be Matt Smith. I'm not ashamed of this knowledge, I'm proud of it. Doctor Who is my escapism because it's fabulous escapism. It's complex, it's imaginative, it's scary and exiting, it's intricate and carries on well beyond the tv show, it's human, and most of all, it's fun. At the hearts (hearts! Geddit??) of it all there is this one, slightly awkward genius who doesn't quite fit in anywhere, who just has a laugh.
My first memory of being scared of Doctor Who was in 'The Two Doctors' by Robert Holmes, one of the greatest writers ever(!). In this sequence that genuinely had me behind the couch the Doctor (Colin Baker) had been stabbed by Shockeye of the Quanzine Grid, who was an Androgum. The Doctor had run away, but had fallen and left some blood on the step, Chessene, of the Franzine Grid, who was a Androgum TA (Technically Augmented) by Dastari (a super genius, also anagram of A TARDIS) so that she would no longer have the cannibalistic tendencies of an Androgum became the scariest character in the universe (I hadn't met Davros yet, and she is way scarier than the Master). Knowing that somewhere the Doctor was being chased around a field by a mad alien with a sword, I saw Chessene spot the blood on the steps, fall to the ground, sniff it, scrape it onto her hand.... and then lick it.
To this day one of the creepiest/scariest things I have ever seen on TV. I was seven years old when Doctor Who entered my living room, and I have been hooked since. (Though I kind of got my Doctors in the wrong order, I was reliant upon the schedule of repeats UKTV Gold had.)

The Doctor became my best friend and my role model. I was an odd, introvert and lonesome youth (I'm and odd, introvert and lonesome adult.... I say adult, don't mistake grown up with maturity), I hated school and the bureaucracy and hierarchy of it (though I wasn't quite that eloquent until well into my double digits) and here was a character that I sort of empathised with. I know that I'm not a genius and that I'm not going to change the world. I know that I'm never going to step into a blue box with a strange madman and see things far beyond my own tiny imagination (any innuendo you found in that sentence was your own dirty mind, not mine!). However I am allowed, however often I feel like it, to snuggle up with a some hot chocolate in my Doctor Who mug, put on my Dalek slippers, take a yoghurt out of my TARDIS fridge, pack away my Doctor Who Monsters jigsaw and Space Travels book (with a pop-up TARDIS!!!), and watch this character on tv. I can watch him fight Morbius, or the Slitheen. I can see Bok explode in all his paper mache glory, or Adric go boom in Earthshock. I'm allowed to do that, and enjoy that just as much as you want to watch Jedward.

My escapism is just as good as yours, if not better. I'd rather die trying to stick something down a Sontaran's probic vent (innuendo belongs to you) than waiting for the X Factor to cast my vote.

100 DAYS!

The 100 days challenge starts today!! Do something once a day for a hundred days in order to achieve whatever.... (I'll avoid going into PR).

I best get started then! May update later with my failed attempts.

[Drawing a picture a day..... lol]

REALLY? REALLY?

Now, I never thought that I would ever feel anything toward Katie Price (or Jordon, depending on how many times you've seen her topless). I mean, she's a sort of none entity, I neither loved her (although I'm astonished that people say "She's my hero!"... SHE'S your hero! Really? O_o), hated her, nor, til recently, pitied her; but watching "I'm a celebrity get me out of here!" I'm beginning to. A) If you're team Andre, surely you wouldn't be watching her, B) there have got to be better things to do with your time/money than torment her, C) she is most definitely not the person that most deserves to be hated in there, and D) really after Dec felt the necessity to tell her to 'shake everything' when she was covered in bugs, all the good jokes have gone! (Although, if you know any good Jordon jokes (I use 'Jordon' merely for the alliteration) do feel free to share.)

I know that she's now left, and to be fair, I don't blame her, and I realise that she can be quite an irritating none entity. But come on! How many trials can you make her do? =/ It got tired.




Sorry, I got distracted half way through typing this and have now entirely lost my train of thought and have run out of things to say....

Toodles.

OH DEAR.

I'm a bit terrible at blogging aren't I? Sorry. I would type more, except I live an ridiculously dull and tedious existence. If there were anything interesting to blog about I would.
Well, since my last post I've started uni in London, which is ok, [They're all normal down here!!! It's bizarre! I can't quite cope with sane people!!] dong 'Drama and Theatre Arts', not 'Drama and Theatre Studies' like most other universities. no, no, no, this sounds far more pretentious. Gotta love it.

Also, if you care [whoever it is that reads this *waves to stalker*] in may 2010 I shall be running from my uni 'digs' (as it were) to my own front door. 190 miles over one week (I hope). So, find my other blog (Yeah, I have two! Only since starting uni have I realised just what I dweeb I truly am) lost-her-mind.blogspot.com, and give me money.

BEST.LETTER.EVER!

Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:

When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted fan,
Jim

101 THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE (ish)!

Help! I need to fill up this list, all suggestions welcome!
[Although I've not yet finished the list, I'll start ticking off the ones I've done]

1) Get into shape
2) Get a piercing (do ears count?) [/]
3) Get a tattoo[/]
4) Send a message in a bottle
5) Run a marathon
6) Join the Mile High Club :)
7) Get a drainpipe
8) Write a novel
9) Sleep under the stars
10) Learn to juggle, with three balls
11) Find a job I love
12) Skydive
13) See the Northern Lights
14) Kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower >.<
15) Walk the Great Wall of China
16) Put my hands in a print outside Mann's Chinese Theatre
17) Learn a second language [/]
18) Visit the birthplace of a cultural icon
19) Go Nessie spotting! :)
20) Complete a Crossword puzzle
21) PBB Road trip ^^
22) Be in a band
23) Write a play (and get it performed)
24) Direct with the RSC
25) Busk
26) Write a journal everyday for a year (without missing a day)
27) Finish 'Don Quixote'
28) Read the entire of the 'Complete works of Shakespeare'
29) Go camping [/]
30) Learn to draw well
31) Learn Yoga [/] (ish)
32) Learn to play an instrument [/]
33) Take part in Oktoberfest
34) Go to Disneyland
35) Go on the London Eye [/]
36) Learn all the myths associated with the constellations
37) Fly a kite
38) Finish university without failing miserably
39) Get married (lmao)
40) Research my family tree
41) Be sereneded by somebody :)
42) See my favourite band live [/]!!!
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