A time for change...

Tomorrow is the end of 2007 and like most cliched endings, is a dawn of a new era for many people, mostly significantly for me as I prepare to uplift my life and move to a different country on the other side of the world. It's been a long time since I wrote my last entry and I am angry at myself for not keeping my writing going over the last five months. Life has been eventful. It's been full of events I could have written about, but life took over, as it usually does in these situations and I foolishly put this blog to one side. I'm also considering opening up this blog to all my friends and family soon, so they can keep track of my life when I get to Sydney. I'm in two minds as I enjoy the anonymity and regular purging exercise I get from releasing all my thoughts and rants into the cyberworld. We shall see.

I have a musical to write and other writing to start and my new shiny white beacon of an iMac seems to be inviting me to use it solely for Facebook and porn. There are far too many diatribes on the passive nature on owning a computer to be included in this entry, so I will leave those for another time.

Moving to Australia is a thrilling and terrifying prospect. I'm currently facing a big chalkboard which has lots of intricate scribblings all over it which I've accumulated over the years and now stand poised with one of those eraser blocks in my hand, waiting to wipe it all off in one smooth swipe. I want to start a fresh new scribble and I'm hesitating, as hover over my life in London just one more time admiring everything I've achieved, I know deep down I'm not really losing anything it's just the action that terrifies me. I suppose this feeling is natural to someone starting a new chapter and many of my friends are envious of the freedom I have before me. I will however truly miss this moment in my life as it is rich and I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now. It's so predictable how making this decision has made me appreciate what and who I have in my life right now. Clichés that rear their ugly heads in fiction and in other people's lives are now making a long overdue appearance in mine. A comforting thought perhaps?

Thoughts on the boy Potter...

Okay, what I'm going to say will be considered controversial. Well, not if you're a literary critic, although they have all been quite praising about it I've noticed, but I've just finished the final installment of the Harry Potter septilogy and, well, I have my opinions I'd like to air after being sucked into reading the entire saga these past few years. I suppose I should prewarn those of a fragile idiotic nature who don't want to know what happens to perhaps 'look away now' or maybe the title of this entry should also read *SPOILER ALERT* But lets be frank here, if you didn't think I was going to talk about plot points when talking about the last book and are shocked to learn crucial elements to the story by reading this, then you're a bit of an twat really. Yes, that term was quite eloquent of me, I'm glad you noticed.

I'd like to say now, the only modern children's books I have read are Rowling's Harry Potter, Pullman's Dark Materials Trilogy and The Hungry City Chronicles by Philip Reeves. I have only got into reading these as working in the film industry as it's always good to have a bit of foreknowledge of potential movie campaigns you could end up working on. Although Reeve's Mortal Engines was a pure coincidence and a chance to read a signed first edition for free. Harry Potter has been 'fantasy-lite' entertainment, I realise it's kid's literature and perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh on the material but I think the elevated status deserves some critic, as no doubt the books will be compared to existing classics like the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy or Roald Dahl's various deliciously horrid and captivating children's stories.

Maybe I'm impatient with these books, but I found myself skimming the pages at a hundred miles an hour, perhaps it is merely the style of writing that didn't captivate me instantly and maybe I yearn for more meandering, fantastical passages and clever word play that I remember lapping up as a child. I personally itched a bit when scenarios got repetitive, like the 'camping whilst on the run' parts. The deaths were dealt with in a very real unglamorous way, which I congratulate her for, although I think I did suffer from total memory loss reading parts of it, as I didn't even realise Lupin was dead until he appeared as a ghost with Harry's folks and Sirius at the end. Calling Voldemort 'Riddle' made the final stand-off all the more striking, subtle changes in character dialogue were a clever touch. She should have made the importance of wands more apparent in the other books though, as I felt it certain plot pieces/devices like that were all too convenient and materialised out of nowhere. Bit like in Star Trek when they go "Oh my God we're slipping into a Worm Hole, how about we press this button that will release intermittent tachyon beams that will create a static warp shell." which to me, makes as much sense as me saying "Oh my God I don't have a boyfriend, how about I switch on my toaster."

It's not my favourite book from the series. Azkaban and Goblet of Fire still remain firm favourites. Had the first third been structured in a more entertaining way and punctuated more with other plot lines to build up the tension it would have been the reached the top of my list. My favourite parts were Snape's back story and Mrs Weasley calling Bellatrix Lestrange a "B*tch". How many parents will be self-sensoring that part when they read it aloud to their children I wonder. Still, I'll pay good money to see Julie Walters and Helena Bonham-Carter fight like cats in a bag.

On another note, I apologise for the lack of entries on my blog. It has been a ridiculously long time and have faltered badly on the maintenance front. I have now got a lovely spanking new Powerbook that purrs nicely and allows me to go wireless and even has Final Draft so I can write 'professionally'. I have news on Centre Stage, writing a musical and the usual pointless banter about men and life and will endeavor to write this all up soon into those lovely, little, eloquently written passages I do love to toil over.

"What's your story?..."

Peculiar that I traverse the steep steps of Waterstones on Piccadilly and look across to the giant photos above the bannisters that showcase the great literary luminaries of our age and who do I see? David Beckham, Jane Fonda, Paul McCartney and Bill Clinton. There is one shot of a real author - you know one of those people who actually have touched a keypad or typewriter and known how to use syntax and grammar, rather than speak to a ghost writer - this was of Margret Atwood whose expression in the photo was of shere awkwardness, even though she was in fact surrounded by books. This observation was further compounded by the fact I was rudely ushered to one side by an assistant to make way for their next author who was signing. My glimmer of internal hope died however, when I noticed it was not the Pulitzer Prize-winning Michael Chabon or even 'Chick-Lit Queen' Sophie Kinsella. No, it was Kanye West and his mother.

This is future of publishing people. I do hope people like my friend Ben get their literary efforts recognised, I pray to God they do.

N.B. Please note. Since writing this entry, Kanye's mother (his biographer) tragically died from cosmetic surgery complications. This bizarre soap-opera like event has somehow, to me anyway, strangely reinforced my arguement there should be more emphasis on real literary talent. Or perhaps I've got a sick sense of humour.

A few shots from the show...

Oh dear...

I've been looking back at my blog in recent months and I seem to have done it again. Well, the opposite this time. There I am writing flippant, jocular entries to satisfy those who worried my blog was getting morbid and now it's just silly, of little substance and frankly has no thought whatsoever. I need to verbalise my thought processes more carefully, however mundane. My writing suffers badly and it becomes dry and something the editor of Heat may think was an 'interesting Carrie Bradshaw approach' to observing life. I'm shuddering in my cheap IKEA chair now. Dear Lord. Strike me down now. I'm meant to encourage great writing. Actually, don't strike me down just yet, I have a show to do in four weeks time and have no understudy. Anyway, I digress. I've decided and I'm sorry now in advance, if future musings seem depressive. I'm not. Please don't call social services or suggest seeing a psychiatrist. This is what writing is about - exploring every aspect and the negative parts are so much fun to write about. Exorcising those demons and woes in tiny, thought provoking words, syllables, sentences and paragraphs, it helps put everything into joyful, toe-tapping, 'Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder' perspective in a weird way. I miss it and I will now write whatever the buggery-hell I want to write. Self-editing in order to please the masses is for people who go round saying things like "I do love The Vicar of Dibley but I just don't get BBC2". (I wonder if John Craven worried as much, putting together his child-friendly news stories for Newsround.) I hope this will eventually kick start something within me to get my novel and script ideas into shape. After the show, I must start breaking the concepts down and figure out what will work and what is shockingly bad, I might as well cast it aside and lock it up in a small safe marked "Step away now. Dull beyond words".

How could I forget...

There I was thinking about who would be on my BFM list and I forget this man. How will Mr Ruffalo forgive me? Well, he is married so I'm sure he'll cope.

I'm mulling over who he should replace. Hugh or Elijah? Answers on a postcard please.

For Grandjie...

You were not my guide.

You were my feet upon which I walked ahead with into my future.

You were not my comforter.

You were the hands that covered my heart when I was cold.

You were not my teacher.

For you were my smile when I found knowledge and achievement.

You were not just my friend.

You were my world. My energy. My joy.

Blatant additon to BFM List...

It's unimaginative, a huge and blatant teenage crush of an addition, but over the last week I have been watching, what Americans call 're-runs' of the first season of 'Heroes' on the Scifi Channel (yes, Sky finally got their act together) and have fallen for the lovely Milo Ventimiglia, who plays Peter Petrelli. Heroes is a kinda regular Joe X-Men style science fiction show that has more twists and turns than 'Lost' and is more confusing than an epileptic inside a duvet cover. I desperately need to be more selective with my exclusive list, I know but I have a small, yet hopeful sense of hope that evidence of their personality and intelligence will shine through with many of my candidates. I have faith Milo might have something going for him apart from good hair. Heroes is totally addictive and I've been willing the creator and director, Tim Kring to include a scene where Milo has to take his shirt off. (Currently it stands as one shot of him getting out of bed with his back to the camera - not good enough NBC. Shame on you. Don't you know gays flock to sci-fi? it's as natural and predictable as cows eating grass, dogs catching frisbees and imbeciles reading the Daily Mail).

Still, he goes on my list, as does Jonathan Kelly who is the executive assistant to the Editor of Vanity Fair. He's like the male version of Ugly Betty and Andy Sachs from The Devil Wears Prada. (PAs are obviously the 'in-thing' over in America it seems and they now get they're own cover stories) I can't find a photo of him on Google, so you'll have to do your own undercover investigation online or just buy this month's edition. He's preppy, well-groomed and seemly successful, as he is contributing to this month's edition of Vanity Fair for starters. I imagine he's a very savvy and smart journalist too; likes to stop every morning for a frappaccino before heading into the office, working the hours God Graydon Carter sends him and then heads home to make seafood risotto for him and his boyfriend in the evening. Okay, I'm assuming a lot here. Total flights of fancy, of course. He may hate risotto.

Apologies for not writing in my blog sooner but I've had an awful lot go on in the past month and will fill everyone in soon I promise.

It's official...

Damn you SKY, damn you to Hell!...

The global communications company SKY has invaded the comfort of my abode and wreaked havoc with everything it touched. After naively thinking their £26 a month deal for TV, Broadband and Phone offer would be a good idea and signing my life into their hands, I am now currently residing in a flat that is bereft of terrestrial TV, no broadband and have been billed £20 for the experience. Ironically, no one at SKY thinks this is bad for a new customer or can communicate within their customer services departments. Apparently, it takes 3 working days to log a complaint which is most likely to be filed under 'IGNORE AND TRANSLATE INTO FARSI' so only limited individuals who fluent in a dead language are able to respond and help you. I am now 'sans' internet access at home after SKY decided to disconnect us two weeks ago, without warning or sending the correct 'technical team' to install a dish to our roof, connect the relevant cables and routers and, you know, basically do their job as stated. According to Rupert's people, second floor flats require a 'specialist team' team of installers, who are few and far between, obviously trained along side Japanese Samurai, the Gurkhas and elite SAS soldiers. This does mean I'm unable to regularly update this blog until it's all been sorted, which probably at this rate, will be around the same time the London Olympics opens in 2012.

Charlie reminds me....

I've decided. I must procrastinate more when I write. About random things. More the things that annoy or confound me, like men or those dire chewing gum ads that supposedly declare it's "mastication for the nation".

Certain entries about my life and hobbies are certainly quite dull, well not dull exactly, I'm just not in the slightest inventive when it comes to prose. My fault is that I don't write enough. Midnight blog entries are never going to win the masses for the prize of hilarity. And that's why my book and script ideas are still, well, just ideas.

Thank you Mr Charlie Brooker.

Don't talk like a slut Shelley...

Those of you may know, I am currently taking extra lessons in tap every Sunday and Monday now. Sunday class is specifically Broadway Tap (more jazz hands and I tend to sweat a lot more essentially). I love these classes, even though tapping is not my strong point, I want get better at it. As Mary Poppins would say, practice makes perfect. Ironically one of my fellow tap dancers in this class is none other than Emma Williams who played the part of Shelley in the West End production of Bat Boy. Emma, for those not familiar with her recent media coverage, was going to 'support' Connie Francis and also play Maria in 'The Sound of Music' when it opened at The Palladium last year. She decided to pull out and lots of media hoopla proceeded, with suggestions Emma not wanting to be seen as an 'understudy' (fair enough to me, if that's the case). Certain papers accusing the show of 'fixing' the reality TV competition. Emma was also the youngest ever female to play a lead in the West End for her part as Truly Scrumptuous in 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. I hope she forgives me if I got any of the information wrong just now (and for the fact I've actually put up a link to a Daily Mail article -shudder down spine- something I try not to promote as a rule) Emma obviously knows 'Bat Boy' inside and out and was really enthusiastic to find out we're doing the show. Hopefully, she can come and see the show come June.

More reason to put on great show. No pressure.

On another musical note, I purchased the new Broadway version of 'Company', my favourite Sondheim musical. About a single guy called Robert who refuses to settle down and is surrounded by various couples, all wondering why such a great guy like him is, well, single. Lots of observation about dating, relationships and the ultimate realisation of what it truly means to find someone you can love. (Any similarities to my situation are purely coincidental of course. I can't emphasise with one bit - stop scoffing. Yes, you at the back. Yes, I'm pointing at you. I heard that, take that back right now). This new recording has revamped the original 1970s score whilst still retaining what was true and poignant. Go buy it now. It's a musical for adults who have real problems. Not a single jazz hand in sight but some of the best lyrics ever written.

Desiderata...

I believe I stumbled across this on my friend's website, I can't remember now, it was a long time ago. I saved it on my computer and found it again today. I think its a elegant and thought-provoking passage that focuses the mind and gives one the perspective we all sometimes desperately need in this chaotic world in which we live in:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

- Max Ehrmann, Desiderata (Copyright 1952).

BFM...

Just to let you know, I'm not satisfied with my list. Not enough rumination and scrutinization has gone into it. There must be other men out there that deserve to be on the list, who I've failed to recognise, but most certainly deserve to be up there. Saying this, Stephen Oremus is still deserves his spot in the Top Five.

Such a frivolous list I know, but I want to take it seriously. For now anyway.

Come On, Get Happy...

I've just had my first 'holiday' since departing these fair shores to go to Australia last January. So, where did I go this time, I hear you ask? Well, sunny SE24 unfortunately. The never-ending debt relief project I am submitting myself to over the last couple of years, that has been so monotonous it would make a Blue Peter take it up as their next appeal, has meant my holiday plans have been confined to my flat. None the less, I have entertained myself sufficiently by pre-booking various events including seeing Porgy & Bess with the Centre Sage crew, various cinema trips to see 'Hot Fuzz' and 'The Queen', in order to update myself before the pre-Oscar onslaught and finally ending my week going to see Rufus Wainwright reenact Judy Garland's famous Carnegie Hall concert at the London Palladium. Yes, quite the gayest event I've probably attended but I've been a big Rufus fan in ages and my flat mate was very keen in going too. A few well placed emails and a phone call meant I managed to secure house seats for the already sold out show, even though I had to take out a small mortgage to get them, they were worth every penny. Not only were we treated to a song-for-song tribute by Mr Wainwright, his sister Martha did a rendition of 'Stormy Weather' and 'Someone To Watch Over Me' and to seal the heavily frosted pink icing on the well mixed gay cake, Lorna Luft made an appearance and sang 'Hello Bluebird' from Garland's last film shot at the Palladium, 'I Could Go On Singing'. Just to notch up the campometer a few more notches we sat next to Richard E. Grant, Tom Chaplin from Keane, who had obviously skipped rehab, David 'Elton John and his partner' Furnish and Mark Gatiss from The League of Gentlemen. I have, however, developed another 'theatre going crush' on the Musical Arranger/Conductor of the show, Stephen Oremus (see photo left of him with Rufus). Not only has he directed these shows for Rufus but he is also behind the orchestrations for 'Wicked' and 'Avenue Q' he is also irritatingly handsome and has the sexiest mane of brown hair ever to poke out the top of a dinner jacket, ever. (that's the view I got of him for most of the night, bar moments at the grand piano when he played solo for Rufus), Yes, I've become a showbiz whore. Mock me now. Obviously, a totally shallow observation but I've decided his on my Top Five List of BFM (Boyfriend Material) anyway, as I spotted his biography in the Avenue Q programme a week ago and was hooked then. Qualities for being BFM, are not based on looks may I add, but several qualities in order to to sustain a long term relationship with yours truly:

• Intelligence (biggest turn on for me surprisingly).
• Individual talent & passion of some kind.
• Personal drive and financially independent.
• Mutual compatibility both physically and mentally with myself.
• Sexy enough to make me want to jump into bed with them.

If it was based solely on looks, then of course more people would appear on the list, like the Abecrombie & Fitch model Joseph Sayers who, as yet, I know nothing about personality wise. He is short and blonde, a huge plus in my books and of course, if he turns out to love Sondheim, loves baking, good food, has wicked ironic sense of humour and watches an unhealthy amount of movies, he can certainly graduate onto the list below. Another example of someone who doesn't cut the grade but find incredibly sexy is Colin Farrell, a person whose face has probably been declared as 'an area of outstanding natural beauty' by the Irish Tourist Board, he would not qualify as BFM, as his bad boy persona would most definitely clash with the BFM characteristics needed to secure themselves on my arm. There are of course, people I actually know who spring to mind immediately but are unfortunately straight or already have boyfriends and I wouldn't dare to share their names in case they found out.

The BFM List for 2007* as follows:


6) Aaron Sorkin - Solely cerebral this one, as this man is a genius with words and I want to be around someone like him. The West Wing is his finest piece of work.

5) Hugh Jackman - nicest man in Hollywood apparently with a chest to sleep on for hours on end. Plus, his version of 'Sunset Boulevard' makes the hair on the back of my neck go funny. I do admit he might be too tall for me though.

4) Elijah Wood - short, as we know and the eyes do it for me. He also has his own record label and apparently is very close to his siblings, which I empathise with. I was told he even 'played for Arsenal' like myself by a reliable source, until it was proved wrong by another recently. Bugger. Or not, should I say.

3) Hugh Dancy - Another Hugh, who acts, models, speaks French and seems a bit posh (a vice of mine) and was darn good in 'Shooting Dogs' He also helped my friend who was on crutches up some stairs at the King Arthur Premiere party. A fine gentleman indeed.

2) Stephen Oremus - An American musical genius whose bum I stared at for 3 hours on Sunday while he conducted Rufus Wainwright, anyone who can deliver music arrangement of that quality is incredibly talented and I'd love to sing by him in an empty theatre as he plays the piano to my words.

1) Jake Gyllenhaal - Everyone's current favourite but I was a fan way before he was 'Top Totty' to all and sundry. Tall, always Donnie Darko for me despite the Brokeback acclaim, eyes you could disappear into and, well, I could go on. I would convert to Judaism for this man. And that would be a commitment. Every mum would fall in love with him if you took him home surely? (They'd probably secretly want them for themselves.)

Okay, I know you're thinking they're all really good looking but, hey, this is my list and my rules and I can do what I want.

NB: If one of you from the list is actually reading this, please do get in touch by all means. This simple course of action takes you immediately to the privileged Number One spot, along with a date one evening, filled with charm, wit and banter with my fine self.

* This list is subject to change. Well, of course it is.

Bad Idea Bears...

I watched Avenue Q on Thursday. South Park meets Sesame St. I've enjoyed puppets and being rude - ask my little sister. So this was right up my street, or should I say avenue. Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx's score is a perfect antidote to the humdrum of daily life, especially if you're one of the many disillusioned 20/30 somethings like myself, who are wondering why we feel a little empty inside. According to the show - it's okay, we all feel that way! It also celebrates the fact we're all a little bit racist, the internet is for porn and there is a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend. Apart from developing a small 'foam with ping-pong ball eyed' like crush on the actor Simon Lipkin, the very talented puppeteer who plays Nicky and Trekkie Monster (see photos - Nicky is the green 'Ernie' like puppet and Simon is the bushy browed, well toned man with his hand up Nicky's arse), I also found myself becoming a big fan of the idea we have 'Bad Idea Bears' in our lives. In the show, they're cute 'Care Bear' like creatures who appear at the most inappropriate moments in the character's lives, dispensing bad advice and luring them into trouble in order to experience short-lived enjoyment. They represent the voice in your head that encourages you to do that wrong thing, like; have another round when you really need to go home, spend money you don't have, saying or doing the most inappropriate things on a date. I've been listening to my 'Bears' far too much recently. They're almost having a summer vaction in my head. I've been having lots of 'Me' time recently, spending time and money on myself and not been in touch with so many of my friends. I don't feel guity about it, as I've needed to concentrate on myself and not chase after the rest of the world for a bit, as it was beginning to wear me out. I do think it's a good idea to imagine 'bad ideas' as dumb soft toys though. At the end of the show, the Bad Idea Bears become Scientologists. I do think it's important to listen to them every now and then, otherwise we'd just go plain mental and end up being Vegan Conservative Methodists or something.

Bud...

Well, the cast list was finally announced at 1am on Friday, much like the General Elections, the flurry of excitement throughout the day between fellow Centre Stagers, slowly petered out as and when people got tired of waiting. Friday morning arrived and I checked my email to see if I had managed to bag the title role of 'Bat Boy' himself and... no, I didn't get it. I'm a tad gutted as you can imagine.

If this was an Oscar press release, I'd probably be saying something like, "It was just an honour to be nominated, I pass on my warm hearted congratulations to the lucky winner" or something as equally anodyne. Thankfully, I'm not. This is my blog and I can rant if I want to. I suppose the experience of taking part in one show and spending hours of preparation for this audition allows me some justified resentment. I'm not ungrateful for the part I have been given, the role of Bud the West Virginian farmer and I'm also over the moon to be part of another show. It's just that there aren't many leading roles in musicals I could realistically go for, what with my stature and looks. Plus, the role of Bat Boy required someone to be odd and quirky, funny yet have a vunerable and angry side and on also on a technical level, have a wide vocal range, which I have. So for me, this was a role I thought I had a decent chance in getting. I, along with others are taken aback it's gone to a tall good looking person, not my first vision of what the character should be. I admit, I'm not the strongest dancer in the eyes of the choregrapher (and I'm working on that with my weekly tap classes) and I'm sure my audition wasn't perfect. I am pleased I tried my best though and I hoped I made them see what I'm capable of. One day I'll get to belt out some heart-felt songs in front of an audience of family and friends. Something I was really keen in doing, especially before I escape this country later in the year.

I'm sure in the next couple of weeks when the show gets going, I along with others, who are more disappointed than I am, will get over it and start mucking in and concentrate on making it another great show.

Perhaps I'll do a Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls and do such a knock out supporting performance, they'll have to despense tremendous amounts of praise on me.

Okay, overly warped acting ego finished. Over and Out.

ALW...

I got to meet Andrew Lloyd Webber last night or ALW as his friends call him, at his showcase of Andrea Ross, his new 15 year old protege who is immensely talented and annoyingly fresh faced and American. It is true what they say about ALW though, he is like a giant bug. All limbs and eyes. I was aware that Natalie and I were probably in a long line of 'hangers on' and kept it light and left him be after a few minutes, only for him to be accosted by some guy who was terribly keen to show him his musical theatre magazine. I saw ALW's eyes roll, he heaved an inaudible sigh, giving the nervous man a well rehearsed smile and began fawning interest. I suppose to be that successful and have this kind of attention thrusted your way continuously must be quite excruciating at times.

Perhaps I should have belted out a show tune at him. Just for fun. And before security had the chance to escort me off the premises.

Quote of the Week...

I don't give a diddly squat about Channel 4's Celebrity Big Brother and the escalated racism row going on with former BB contestant Jade Goody and the Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty who are currently incarcerated together. It has spawned opinions in everyone from own our own homes and offices, to our Chancellor Gordon Brown to (most likely) the entire country of India by this time tomorrow. Another ratings war won by Channel 4 and essentially, a sad reflection on how we seem to idolise celebrity more than the real issues and also how we perceive each other in this post 9/11, sensitive interracial climate we live in today.

What did make me laugh out loud was Frankie Boyle's comment on the TV show 'Mock The Week' last night. He spoke about the fact we - the general public and the media, despite the fact we are all fully aware she is, how the Dictionary would describe as - 'a moron', have willingly elevated Ms Goody to her current status of 'celebrity', to only now be shocked by the fact she has said some highly offensive and stupid remarks. A naive reaction, and I quote Frankie:

"The equivalent of training a chimpanzee to be a butler, but then to be horrified later on, when it decides to throw it's own shit at the dinner guests".

A boy with fangs in his mouth...

The read through for 'Bat Boy' was essentially, a miniature reunion for Centre Stage members. As we congregated together to hear the plans for the new show, it was as if someone had flicked a 'rewind' button, that had taken us back four months, yet this time faces were familiar with banter and gossip in full flow and without trepidation. We perched once more on the hard plastic moulded school chairs that are only found in school assembly halls and Women Institute meetings, listening to the director's take on the show he had in mind for us. It sounded bigger and more exciting than I imagined. The chance to be with the gang again is enough to lift everyone's spirits, despite what reservations anyone has about the actual show.

Auditions for the show are being held next Sunday. Time to practice. Especially as I got into the last show solely on the fact I was 'A Boy'. Time to prove I can actually sing, dance and act. Well, sing, dance and act better than last time I stood in front of them and auditioned.

Oww...

Yesterday I stabbed myself in the palm of my hand with a bread knife, not a cry for help, just an idiotic relapse. I then did the washing up and cut two of my fingers on another knife. I followed this by trying to remove some plastic snowflake decorations welded to my living room window with sticky tape, proceeding to gash another finger and leaving a streak of my own blood across the glass. As you can imagine, my hands needed some medical attention by this point, you know, a bit of anticeptic and some sticky plasters. It was only then, when I ripped the plaster packaging open and gave myself a paper cut, I completely lost it.

I'm finding it difficult to type this.

My year to come according to Shelley...

GEMINI
Being one of the friendliest and most inquisitive signs, your life has always been influenced by those around you – friends, family and colleagues - and by events. But during 2007, it may seem as if decisions are in the hands of others. This is no bad thing, as they’re able to do wonders for you. The problem is, you’re restless. You’ll make changes, settling on new plans, but not until early September, when the practical Saturn shifts to accent your domestic and working life. After that a combination of powerful insights and changes in circumstance shape your thinking and your activities.

Love and Relationships: Either somebody you know is in a position to spoil you or there’s big time love on the horizon. Even work relationships are blessed with brilliant stars. You need only say yes and the rest is magical.

Finances and work: Explore your options during the year’s first half, ensuring you both know your facts and what you want to achieve. That ensures you’re ready for dazzling ideas or opportunities soon after mid-year.

Health and Well Being: The fast pace could take its toll, with too much to do in too little time. Since you shouldn’t say no to any of this, take frequent, if short breaks and practice stress reduction techniques.

...Apparently.