Welcome back to the fiftieth post.
I am finished with university. At least, for the time being. I sat my final exam today, with unexpected results (I have to go the Doctors tomorrow), but nevertheless it was my final exam of my final term of my final year, which means I am done.
I don't know how I feel- the last few days have been a rollercoaster, even moreso than usual before an exam (see above re: Doctors), and so of course in a way it's just a relief that those stresses cannot hurt me anymore. But I actually just feel completely normal: I imagine it will hit me at some unspecified point in the future; come swooping down from above and knock all the air out of my lungs because OH MY GOD NO MORE UNI but right now I don't feel anything.
I look back on my uni experience and I think I've accomplished most of the things I set out to do: I went on a year abroad, performed at the fringe, recieved a standing ovation, won awards for both writing and acting and got involved in fifty theatrical productions. I know it's terrible and more than slightly pathetic, but I'm proud of myself. I just hope I can continue this trend.
I see this as the beginning of Adult Life- that nebulous, unknowable thing that apparently happens to you when you're least expecting it and are making other plans- and, of course, I have a lot of expectations of myself and my situation which I am hoping to meet now that I am an adult. I want to read more, and use the internet less; I want to eat only healthy foods, exercise every day, and yet somehow still have the money and energy to go out with my friends four evenings out of every five; I want to write something creative everyday, and be involved with some kind of performance every week. I want to follow every single instruction in this song to the fucking letter.
We'll see how many of these I'm still keeping up by the end of the month, shall we?
Working in my favour, with regards to starting Adult Life, I have a proper post-uni job lined up, teaching English in France come October. It's only for a few months and obviously doesn't start for a while, but I hope it'll look good on my CV and will allow me to expand the list of places I have lived, which I want to be as long as possible (another commandment I have set myself by means of guiding my life).
Until then, I'm remaining in Edinburgh as long as possible- hanging out, working the occasional shift in Teviot, maybe doing a show or fifty- pretty much the exact same as before, except now no one's subsidising me.
...Progress?
Tuesday 20 May 2014
Sunday 4 May 2014
Fifty (part one)
You may be confused by this post's title as, if you look to the right and add together the number of posts from 2013 and 2014, you will find they in fact come to 49. You may also be confused by the fact that this post seems to be the first part of a two-parter when the narrative seems to come to a very definite conclusion at the end of this post. Allow me to allay both these confusions at once: this, the 49th Devil's Ink Pots post, is titled Fifty (part one) because, added together with the next post, its second half, it will be the fiftieth post.
Kind of.
You could, of course, argue that they will in fact both be one extended 49th post, and thus the title is not appropriate for either of them, but I wanted this post to be called Fifty, and to be considered as the fiftieth post, for a reason that will become apparent in a moment. And, besides, if you count the post that Rachel forbid me from posting, this would be number fifty anyway, so let's just think of it like that.
I wanted this post to be number fifty, because last night the number of theatrical productions I had been directly involved in since starting university reached fifty. And it was wonderful.
A professional actor mistook me for a professional playwright and, upon discovering that I was still a student, assumed that naturally this was the career path I was going to take. If I could go back and talk to myself after the second time I failed production merit, I'd just tell myself that.
The show got a lot of laughs, which I was really thankful for, because when I was writing it, I really wasn't sure how some of the dialogue would sound spoken aloud; it also received one gasp of genuine indignation at some harsh words spoken during an argument, which I was so, so happy about because the line was one of the nastiest things I've ever written.
Wrapped in an Enigma was directed by Jen McGregor, and starred Susanna Mulvihill, David McFarlane, Alexander Staniforth and William Mitchell; much like when I gave Rob and Roberta to the B.E.S.T.ies, I'm so grateful that such talented people took the time to tackle my work. I know I'm gushing, but I just don't care.
Wrapped in an Enigma, the fiftieth piece to which I have contributed, and the 15th contribution to the Kelly Canon, was about an unemployed woman becoming obsessed with trying to find out the name of one of her one night stands, to the exclusion of all else. Jari, who is about the only person half as interested in the Kelly Canon as I am, has pointed out that, recently, all my protagonists have been shiftless, unemployed losers, usually mooching off of someone else, and desperately trying to stave off adult life. The fact that this shift has coincided with my inevitable transition from student to shiftless, unemployed loser myself will of course be of great interest to future Kelly scholars, and I just know a great many papers will be written about that fact.
There were three other brilliant pieces last night- Exit Pursued by Tom Stoppard by Fiona McDonald, Eve of War by Neil Chue Hong and Wink. Block. Delete by Mark Jeary; it was really lovely to see an another anthology of new writing in Edinburgh, since, after the Ten Minuters failed to return, I'd pretty much only seen such a thing at Candlewasters. However, apparently such a thing is quite common at Discover 21, the theatre where the event was held, so maybe I'll be able to experience more of it in the future.
Kind of.
You could, of course, argue that they will in fact both be one extended 49th post, and thus the title is not appropriate for either of them, but I wanted this post to be called Fifty, and to be considered as the fiftieth post, for a reason that will become apparent in a moment. And, besides, if you count the post that Rachel forbid me from posting, this would be number fifty anyway, so let's just think of it like that.
I wanted this post to be number fifty, because last night the number of theatrical productions I had been directly involved in since starting university reached fifty. And it was wonderful.
 |
| I tried to make a big '50' out of the posters of all the plays I've been in, but it looked awful- if someone with an eye for graphic design wants to make one for me, that'd be swell. |
The show got a lot of laughs, which I was really thankful for, because when I was writing it, I really wasn't sure how some of the dialogue would sound spoken aloud; it also received one gasp of genuine indignation at some harsh words spoken during an argument, which I was so, so happy about because the line was one of the nastiest things I've ever written.
Wrapped in an Enigma was directed by Jen McGregor, and starred Susanna Mulvihill, David McFarlane, Alexander Staniforth and William Mitchell; much like when I gave Rob and Roberta to the B.E.S.T.ies, I'm so grateful that such talented people took the time to tackle my work. I know I'm gushing, but I just don't care.
Wrapped in an Enigma, the fiftieth piece to which I have contributed, and the 15th contribution to the Kelly Canon, was about an unemployed woman becoming obsessed with trying to find out the name of one of her one night stands, to the exclusion of all else. Jari, who is about the only person half as interested in the Kelly Canon as I am, has pointed out that, recently, all my protagonists have been shiftless, unemployed losers, usually mooching off of someone else, and desperately trying to stave off adult life. The fact that this shift has coincided with my inevitable transition from student to shiftless, unemployed loser myself will of course be of great interest to future Kelly scholars, and I just know a great many papers will be written about that fact.
There were three other brilliant pieces last night- Exit Pursued by Tom Stoppard by Fiona McDonald, Eve of War by Neil Chue Hong and Wink. Block. Delete by Mark Jeary; it was really lovely to see an another anthology of new writing in Edinburgh, since, after the Ten Minuters failed to return, I'd pretty much only seen such a thing at Candlewasters. However, apparently such a thing is quite common at Discover 21, the theatre where the event was held, so maybe I'll be able to experience more of it in the future.
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