Confessions of a Struggling Actor

This abscess HAS to go soon.

Sobriety at the weekend was probably needed, but not welcome.  I bade goodbye to my last stash of doob and beer by inviting Luke round for some music, PlayStation and chat.  It was a quality night and even Le Francais was on decent form when he came in just before midnight.  He's now away until the weekend, so I have the flat to myself.  Not that I plan doing much, but at least it won't get any messier.

Saturday was beautifully calm.  I had a little lie in, but got some filing and tidying done around the house (which didn't last long once the red wine dropping flatmate came back) before meeting one of the 'witches' from MacB to go over her Scottish accent.  I didn't have a clue what to do, so we started off just chatting about stuff so she could try and hear the rhythm and the musicality of my accent.  We then went through her lines and I picked up of various sounds that she was not quite getting and after a couple of hours sitting in the pub doing that, it sounded much better.  She stays nearby, so it was really handy.

After that I decided not to head into town for the Scotland game as the temptation of beer and fags would be too much.  If watching Aberdeen is a trial, then watching Scotland is the same but at the high court.  Instead, I did some work on my lines and kept an eye on teletext.  After the result came in I felt much happier and spent the rest of the evening waiting for the highlights to come on the telly.

Sunday saw me up relatively early and I continued my organisational rampage through the flat.  It seems that sobriety has made me able to keep busy in more constructive ways - also, the telly was pretty crap after Andrew Marr's programme had finished.  Then it was my first proper rehearsal for MacBeth, which was enjoyable and frustrating in equal amounts.  We didn't cover very much and not everyone was there - a few were late, but some others just didn't turn up.  Bad form in my book, but Sam the director made the most of it by going over a scene with Richard (MacB) and me, which went pretty well.  We were done with a couple of hours to spare before the fight director came to work with Richard, so we went for a coffee and met Sam's AD.  When they headed back to the rehearsal room, I went home to dump my stuff before heading to John's gig around 7.

Once I got home, I started to feel a bit funny.  I assumed that it was just the tablets taking hold and headed down to Angel.  There were a few of last Saturday's crowd there so it was good to catch up with their versions of last weekend.  I drank Coke and they sympathised and didn't take the piss.  John's set was great and I really enjoyed it (though i didn't really care for the caterwauling bloke that followed him - clever lyrics, but no need for the screeching voice he put on...) but I felt the tube running under the pub and made me feel worse.  I shot off pretty sharpish once the music was done, but on the tube got mad paranoiac sensations and felt really weird - unlike any drug experience before.  I decided to try and distract myself and, as planned, caught up with stories from the NE from muzz, before trying to get some sleep.

Which didn't happen...

I don't think I've ever been so uncomfortable or not been able to pass out in a while.  With no herbal remedy to send me off to snoozeland, I lay there and sweated and tossed and turned.  I didn't feel any real pain, but I just couldn't sleep.  I'd pass out for what seemed like seconds and once it got to 730am, I decided that I wouldn't be making it into work.  I caught around 2 hours after that and once I awoke, I checked the antibiotics instructions.  "Stay away from caffeinated drinks" was one of the messages and the previous day I'd had a large black coffee and a litre and a half of full fat cola.  That'll be what was wrong then...

In the end, it worked out quite well as I managed to get a helluva lot done during the rest of the day and felt completely clear headed and in control for the first time in ages.  i can't (and won't) promise that this is how I'll be for the rest of time, but I recognise that I need to keep my 'fun' to weekends - and not go mental when I do dismiss sobriety.  I tried to get an early night and had trouble getting to sleep again, but thankfully managed to get up the next morning for my gym induction at 8am.

Back to work yesterday and I have a massive amount on my plate.  I managed to get through a good chunk of it yesterday, but am pretty hectic again today and don't really see any let up in sight.  I was shattered when I got home last night and was thankful that the only thing I had to do was a little bit of paper shuffling and attempt to get an early night once again.  I was going to go to the gym and the mind was willing but the body was weak - usually it's the other way around.  Dropping off was again a problem and I forgot to set my alarms, so missed going in this morning as I'd hoped.  I'm watching the footy with Joe tonight (still not drinking) and have my Scotland top under my jumper to bring the boys luck.

For the rest of the week, it's rehearsal, theatre, gym and buying the last things I need for home before the tax year's out, so I can try an claim back as much as possible - I know I'm due a big rebate, so am just rubbing it in.  I also need to set up an ISA and try and get a doctor's appointment to try and get the pus out of my body so I can resume normal service.  Easter weekend is coming up and I don't want to miss the various opportunities for fun just because of a growth on my back.

Well, things have shaped up a little over the last week, but I wasn't expecting this...

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While things are a little better, I still can quite feel I'm wholly in control of my life.

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Another monumental waste of a week.

Again, I didn't get my room sorted, house cleaning done, computer sorted, bills paid - I'm wallowing in some sort of malaise that I can't shake.  I have to get this all sorted this week as I'm starting MacBeth rehearsals from the 10th March - this Saturday, meaning I'm not getting to head home for My Grandma's birthday and missing taking in the Flying Pig show.  Arse.  I originally thought about just telling them that this was the case and getting on the plane, but thought it might be a little presumptuous, considering that I'd never worked with them before and it was the first rehearsal.  So I let the director know my plans but said I understood if he insisted on my being there.  He then threw it back to me, saying that most of the others (and all the principals) would be there.  In the end, I made the right (but not the fun) decision to stay for the reading.

Through most of last week I did fuck all.  Just sat staring at the telly and letting everything wash over me.  I'm still so busy at work that I just want to crash when i get home.  I want to do sod all and just chill, also without the frenchman wittering on at me about nothing.  Our Homechoice TV is playing up so I have that to add to my ever-expanding to-do list.

The weekend was like many before it - a week's work of drinking and socialising into two nights.  Friday i went to a football mate's engagement party in Chelsea.  It was very nice, but generally pretty posh and I didn't fit in as easily as i'd hoped.  (not that I'm posh in any way...)  I then was about to head to hammersmith as Simon F had invited me to a party, but then he decided not to go, but invited me to his place instead.  After buying a carry-out from the pub next door (brilliant local!) we sat down and chatted the night away talking about many things in the biz of show and some stuff we were going through in our lives.  We were on illict substances, so it was around 5.45am when i took my leave.

I went home, stayed up for a while, then crashed out around 10.  I was up again for football focus, but then crashed a second time as the football results were coming in.  i awoke with a start as I realised that i had the poker night at Ads in Islington, so managed to get myself together and get down there a little late - not helped by a taxi driver that didn't know where he was going.  The night was pleasant and chilled, with everyone getting into the game and having fun at some point.  Mark won, so Ads and I are getting ready to play him for money next time.  I ended up crashing over and getting a bus back the next morning.  Football was cancelled and I was feeling a bit shit so decided to have a cheeky lunchtime bifter.  Within an hour I was in bed sleeping again.  I got up long enough to go to Tom and Mic's to help start puttign up some shelving, which was aborted due to the bolts being too short.  I had a bite to eat with them and chatted away with harry and Angie, who were also there.  I got home and, after MotD2, did the same as i did at lunchtime and the same result happened.

I awoke on Monday brighter than I'd been in a while.  I'd abused my body so much that it had been forced to take the necessary sleep needed in the afternoons over the weekend and i felt more than ready to go to the radio interview that i was scheduled for that morning.  Just as I got out of the shower, the call came in to cancel.  After a day at work and losing 5s in the evening, I got stuck into the smoke again.  Unfortunately, this meant that when i got up the next morning, I wasn't feeling so breezy for the rescheduled interview.  I was fine on the outside, but the mind was wandering.  I lapsed into waffle slightly when talking to the host of the show and missed a question at one point (though it wasn't fully obvious he was speaking to me) and that scared me.  Thankfully it was over quickly after that, but I went back to work and felt paranoid that everyone could tell - my computer wouldn't work, so I was hanging around with nothing I could do, which made me even more nervous right the way through the day.  I went home and watched the football with Denis and one of his mates and was pleased that i could share a j, rather than have it all to myself.  last night, i had one jsut after I got in and managed to get my room in a certain organised untidiness, ready to make the most of the unintentional spare time this weekend.

I'm meeting my benicassim partners in crime tonight for a final plan on getting there and the set up of the week.  I'm not staying out late and want to remain pretty sober to carry on with my spring clean (as it's now evolved into).  Tomorrow night is home with Macb (as I have the read thru on Sat) and with mr muscle/mr sheen to get my envirnoment sorted out.  I still have so many things to get done that I'm going to stay in and get some decent rest too.

I feel weak and pathetic at my inability to do (or ability to ignore) the most simple and everyday tasks.  I feel frustrated that I need to have some sort of crutch to feel relaxed, whether smoking or drinking.  I'm just lucky that MacB is coming up - acting is the only thing that would straighten me out.  That and/or the right girl.  That way I'd have something to care about.  I don't really care about myself that much and have this depressing mentality when it comes to my future.

Still spring is here and things shall hopefully turn for the better...