Monday, May 7

Sunspotted

I have freckles. Fawkes noticed them the other day, very light and small, peppered across my collarbone. I have a couple of obvious ones on my face, but they probably fall into the category of beauty spots. My little-little sister Katy has blonder hair than any of us, and freckles all over her face - she hates them passionately and bemoans their presence like they are some kind of social liability. I think they are cute, and I'm proud to have some now.

Dad has caught on to my current state of mind, I think. He woke me up early this morning for bike riding (wrecked!), took me to the European Cafe for crumpets and grapefruit juice, then took me to a two hour yoga class (wrecked again!), and made spaghetti for dinner. The exercise was welcome; often the only reason I don't like going running is because it means I have to be by myself, alone with my head for an hour or more. There are lots of distractions at home, but running along the river in the cold means that I am submitting myself to whatever mental brutality my mind cares to dish out that particular day.

It's May, which means audition time. On the cards right now is an audition for an agency, a 1896 French absurdist play called King Turd the Great (I kid you not), Romeo and Juliet, an independent film called Boneyard, and soon The Wizard of Oz and The Mikado. Probably more coming up, but some haven't been formally announced yet. The plan is to audition for all of them, then pick and choose amongst whatever parts I manage to get, which is slightly unfair to companies but fabulous for me. More news soon, hopefully, when it all starts happening.

Blah, ok, I'm not going to be verbose or interesting tonight. I am physically tired in a satisfied way, which is so much better than the sickly out-of-it feelings of the last couple of weeks, and there is chocolate honey nougat icecream in the freezer just begging to be eaten. 'Till next time.

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