My date with Me

Yesterday I did something I've never done before.
I took myself out.
I quite often tell friends when it's needed I will take myself out and have a word to calm myself down or shut myself up - or usually both - but this was different...
After yet another bad cold I had decided to clear a whole week in my diary to do nothing but rest, recuperate and relax.
But by Tuesday I was better and I was bored...
I stayed late at work and tried to find some friends to play with - thinking I could walk into town and into an adventure of some kind - but last minute availability is not always a strong point for many Londoners so by 7 o clock I turned off my work PC and gave up.
But by then something in me just didn't want to go home.
It's not that I don't like my home (I love my house and my housemates) but I realised I just didn't want to do the same thing twice in 2 nights.
Friends often ask me how I can spend 2, 3, 4 nights a week writing - doesn't It getvboring doing the same thing every night? But here's the thing, you never do the same thing when you are writing...in Thailand they say same same but different, maybe that's what I missed...

So, anyway, I took myself out.

I got some Thai food (which was amazing), I had a glass of Rose wine (which was lovely) and I bought myself the last seat for the next film screening at the cinema.
It was fun and I felt strangely empowered.
I didn't feel lonely, I didn't feel I had to pretend to be on the phone / waiting for someone.
I was taking myself out for a nice night and I didn't care who knew.
Today though I felt the need to reflect and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because my life was lacking spontaniety or independence and this had been an act of rebellion in some way.

More to the point would I feel inclined to do it again?
The truth? No.
I did enjoy it and I have no shame in admitting I did it but deep down it's just nicer to have someone to share things with, a loved one, a friend, a colleague even.
After years of not having time to hang out with the friends I love because of my writing I found myself in an evening with neither my writing nor my freinds so I treated myself. But I would rather have someone to treat, someone to take out, someone to have an adventure with than do it again on my own.
After nearly 3 years of rushing to class, rushing to the theatre and rushing home to work on projects with looming deadlines I had always looked longingly at restaurants, bars and cinemas and said one day I will have the time to just unexpectedly walk in to one of you places and enjoy myself.
Now I do.
And I think I had to prove that to myself.
I remember once seeing a doctor say in a movie (so it might not technically be true) that if someone is suffocating you need to give them air but if you give them too much it will kill them just as quickly.
I felt liberated last night but almost too much so.
And today I feel a bit like the movie protagonist who after getting what they have wanted the whole movie realises it's not what they want anymore.
Sometimes if you give yourself the very thing you have been longing for you remind yourself that what you already have is better.
Taking care of my health is important and taking as much time to relax as I do to rush around is important too.
But I don't want to have lots of free time I want to write.
And when I do have free time I don't want to spend it on my own I want to see my firends that I don't get to see when I'm writing.
And I guess I want a little bit of spontaniety every now and again too.
When I walk past a busy restaurant, bar and cinema I don't have a longing to go in. But I know I could if I wanted to.
And that...for now...suits me just fine.

Graduation

I graduated from my MA a fair few weeks ago and much like everything else in life the event itself wasn't nearly as much fun as the pre-event hype or the post-event celebrations - I took a few days off work and we all went to the pub, some of us went to the theatre and a couple of us even went to a castle.
All in all it was pretty momentous, the MA has taken over more than 2 years of my life, it is certainly the end of an era but the start of... well, I'm not sure what.
Was I pleased about what we'd all achieved? Sure.
Was I relieved to be out of the debt and stress of studying? Definately!
Do I feel like it's made a difference to my life? Sort of...
On one hand it has been amazing, I think differently about writing, about drama, about language and character, about life, love and everything in between.
I talk about it differently too, it's not a faraway dream or a dirty secret it's what I spend my time doing and inevitably talking about.
Friends and family are really supportive too - they ask about my work even when they don't understand anything about it and it means so much when they do; when they care about it for no other reason than simply because I do.
Yet on the other hand there's a nagging doubt that I am - much like when I graduated from my BA - overqualified and under experienced and it's getting harder to fight my way out from under this blanket of inexperience.
Much like the state of the current economy there are more of us under here struggling than there were before. And there are, as you get older, fewer opportunities to take risks, to be brave and to throw caution to the wind...
Yet I feel like that is exactly what I need to do.
Clearly I didn't miss the lecture on dramatic irony!
I explained my situation to a friend the other day and in a rather more rambling version than this I said that being a new writer is like trying to get into the hippest party in town.
I feel like this MA has given me the key that opens the back stage door to the party, but I can fling the key into the lock as much as I want - I still can't get access to the party till someone invites me in.
Maybe I will get in one day, maybe I won't.
But for now I have the key and that's good enough.
It might not be an open invitation to my future but it's sure as hell better than nothing. And that's certainly worth celebrating...
So...anyone for the pub?