by my lack of English ability. I've sat here for 4 hours and written absolutely nothing: I actually want to rip my face off! GrrrrGrrrrGrrrr. I love English, I love reading English, I love talking about English...I can't write about English to save my life and it makes me mad. Humfr.
Today was good but then lunch at Cafe Nero is always good, even more so when one has a free coffee (I am a loyal customer :D) I also found some proper bargains in the Bracknell charity shops, so it was a very successful day it that sense. But seriously, this essay is BEYOND a joke now.
ummmmmmm...oh yeah, I read "Lyra's Oxford" on the train and was actually a bit disappointed with its lack of plot. What was the point of it!? Je ne sais pas :S the other book I'm reading at the moment is "An Actor Prepares" by Konstantin Stanislavsky. Now HE is a dude. His theories on how to create character are genius (!) if a little tricky. He quotes a guy called Shcepkin: "You may play well or you may play badly; the important thing is that you play truly" I couldn't agree more, though it's incredibly frustrating for an actor when they're "playing badly" or at least "think" they are. What good old stan says, is that in order to play truly an actor must prepare his character conciously (i.e thinking about movements, tone of voice, facial expressions) and then in performance play his character sub-conciously. I have only experienced this a few times, but it's definately what I strive for in every performance - that moment when you actually become that character, even if its only for 5 mins or so, is so awesome!
Right, I'm giving up and going to bed. I say bed because I doubt I'll sleep for another hour, I am not very good at sleeping. My body thinks a lie in is 7 hours sleep, stupid thing! Rehearsals tomorrow :D fun fun times. AH - I'm going to France in a week! Actually WELL excited.
Dad IS the word.
Just got back from "24 hours of prayer" at church - that makes it sound like I've spent a whole 24 hours at church, which isn't true, I was only there for 3. Anyway, one of the sessions was for CAP (Christians Against Poverty) which is the charity that my Dad works for; it is such an awesome organisation and is already having a huge impact on our community. I have to say that my Dad is a bit of a hero...hmmm, I think I've changed my mind about this post. I am going to have a good old RAVE about my Dad, cos he's awesome! :D
I can honestly say that my Dad is the most inspiring, hardworking and dedicated man I know and I have bags, buckets, wheelbarrows and wallets full of respect for him. This time 5 years ago my family were going through a really hard time; my Mum had been diagnosed with cancer and my Dad has just lost his job. I can't always remember much of what happened during that time, sometimes I get smacked in the face with images and emotions etc. but generally it's not something I often think about. There is one image though that I always have and that is of my Dad going up to London every day to sit with my Mum whilst she was having her treatment. He never thought of himself, he was always there for Mum and tried to make life as normal as possible for us kids. At the time I remember getting really cross with him for thinking that you could buy decent sanitary towels at a petrol station and for not letting us walk down Oxford Street on one of our trips to see Mum. But looking back I realise how much he did for us. On one of our Sunday afternoons in the lovely, cheerful...(?!) Middlesex hospital I remember how much he tried to help us feel like a normal family; one time when Mum was a little better we all went to the British museum - who'd have thought Mummies could be so comforting. I also remember trips to Nike town, basketball games and when he came to see me in "The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole" at school (my first main part EVER!) Through all of this the one thing that stood out the most was his faith in God, he was totally convinced that God would bring us through and always encouraged us to pray about the things we were worried about,even when it seemed that our prayers weren't being answered.
When he got a job at CAP I just knew that he was finally doing what God intended him to do. It combines his heart for the poor with his skills as a lawyer and I can already see what a blessing he is to his clients and to the rest of the church staff. Admittedly, we still clash sometimes mostly over the untidiness of my bedroom (or the tidiness of the ceiling as he would say) and the fact that the piano is always convered in my sheets of scales and opera arias ( I don't understand why it has to be put away when I'm only going to use it again) but whatever our differences and disagreements I am incredibly lucky to have him as my Dad. He challenges me to use my talents and skills to help people and to love even when it's difficult.
Hmm...I'm worried that he's going to read this and it's a bit soppy for and Ellie and HER Dad convo - I don't think he knows what I REALLY think of him. LOL. Thing is I really don't care, I'll write about Stan and my instant coffee sachets tomorrow, cos tonight it's all about Andy Jackson - so Dad, if you do read this, I'm very very proud of you :-)
On a similar note, here is the link to the CAP website: http://www.capuk.org/home/index.php have a gander, they're doing some fantastic work!
I can honestly say that my Dad is the most inspiring, hardworking and dedicated man I know and I have bags, buckets, wheelbarrows and wallets full of respect for him. This time 5 years ago my family were going through a really hard time; my Mum had been diagnosed with cancer and my Dad has just lost his job. I can't always remember much of what happened during that time, sometimes I get smacked in the face with images and emotions etc. but generally it's not something I often think about. There is one image though that I always have and that is of my Dad going up to London every day to sit with my Mum whilst she was having her treatment. He never thought of himself, he was always there for Mum and tried to make life as normal as possible for us kids. At the time I remember getting really cross with him for thinking that you could buy decent sanitary towels at a petrol station and for not letting us walk down Oxford Street on one of our trips to see Mum. But looking back I realise how much he did for us. On one of our Sunday afternoons in the lovely, cheerful...(?!) Middlesex hospital I remember how much he tried to help us feel like a normal family; one time when Mum was a little better we all went to the British museum - who'd have thought Mummies could be so comforting. I also remember trips to Nike town, basketball games and when he came to see me in "The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole" at school (my first main part EVER!) Through all of this the one thing that stood out the most was his faith in God, he was totally convinced that God would bring us through and always encouraged us to pray about the things we were worried about,even when it seemed that our prayers weren't being answered.
When he got a job at CAP I just knew that he was finally doing what God intended him to do. It combines his heart for the poor with his skills as a lawyer and I can already see what a blessing he is to his clients and to the rest of the church staff. Admittedly, we still clash sometimes mostly over the untidiness of my bedroom (or the tidiness of the ceiling as he would say) and the fact that the piano is always convered in my sheets of scales and opera arias ( I don't understand why it has to be put away when I'm only going to use it again) but whatever our differences and disagreements I am incredibly lucky to have him as my Dad. He challenges me to use my talents and skills to help people and to love even when it's difficult.
Hmm...I'm worried that he's going to read this and it's a bit soppy for and Ellie and HER Dad convo - I don't think he knows what I REALLY think of him. LOL. Thing is I really don't care, I'll write about Stan and my instant coffee sachets tomorrow, cos tonight it's all about Andy Jackson - so Dad, if you do read this, I'm very very proud of you :-)
On a similar note, here is the link to the CAP website: http://www.capuk.org/home/index.php have a gander, they're doing some fantastic work!
The Bruised Apple and the Rice Pudding
One plus point to being the early-bird in the house is that "bagsying" the last edible apple out of the fridge can be done without someone getting hurt. I eat a lot of apples. Anyways, the apple I took out of the veggie/fruit box this morning was REALLY big and looked REALLY tasty until I saw the MASSIVE bruise - sad times. I told my Dad that the reason for this bruise was the bottle of Spitfire that was rolling about in the veggie/fruit box and that really a bottle of beer didn't belong in this section of the fridge because it would RUIN what was left of our fruit and veg pile. My Dad said it was too early to be bothering him about Spitfire and that I should really just get over the bruise on the apple; but I really couldn't. So the apple went in my lunchbox anyway cos it's Tuesday and the big shop doesn't happen till Wednesday and if I wanted anything else to eat I'd have to be creative, so I took the bruised apple. When it came to lunch time I discovered that the apple was really very good, it was crunchy and juicy and I managed to eat round the MASSIVE bruise, but then I did something awful. You know when you've eating as much of the unbruised apple as possible and you're looking at the bruised bit thinking "if I just eat the underneath bit, I'll miss the bruised bit and I'll still get me some tasty apple" so you eat it and discover that it's not ACTUALLY possible to miss the bruise, so the last taste in your mouth is not bruised apple. Which is SICK.
Anyway the apple was only a small part of a very frustrating day, I won't go into details cos details are lame and all that needs to be said is that I was very grumpy and every hormonal. I had a good old weepy with my Mum who suggested that I have some German rice pudding for tea because German rice pudding is excellent for period pain. However when one has had a hellish morning of trying to find an outfit that hides the bloated stomach, rice pudding doesn't seem like the sensible option. I told my Mum this and she told me off for being so obsessed with my appearance and that I was going to eat the rice pudding because it would make me feel better. She was right, it did make me feel better.
I finally started this blog today. Fiona has been nagging me to make one so I have. I have a feeling that it won't be a very interesting blog, so I apologise - I am only doing this to save myself from the wrath of miss Potter.
Anyway the apple was only a small part of a very frustrating day, I won't go into details cos details are lame and all that needs to be said is that I was very grumpy and every hormonal. I had a good old weepy with my Mum who suggested that I have some German rice pudding for tea because German rice pudding is excellent for period pain. However when one has had a hellish morning of trying to find an outfit that hides the bloated stomach, rice pudding doesn't seem like the sensible option. I told my Mum this and she told me off for being so obsessed with my appearance and that I was going to eat the rice pudding because it would make me feel better. She was right, it did make me feel better.
I finally started this blog today. Fiona has been nagging me to make one so I have. I have a feeling that it won't be a very interesting blog, so I apologise - I am only doing this to save myself from the wrath of miss Potter.
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