13.04.13- Sleeplessness, the Spoken Word and Giving In to Girlishness

Well this week has been considerably poetry-packed. The writer's block has lifted along with my mood and suddenly I'm finding myself struck by inspiration at the least practical of moments. For example, one can find it very awkward when the muse strikes during these times:

• In the shower. The only option to get down that sudden idea is to go forth and run around the house stark-naked, though one has to consider the welfare of fellow housemates. Often it is not worth the risk to their cardiac health.

  

  "Oh bollocks Adam, I've forgotten me pen."
  "Mm tits."

• Driving. Rooting for a notepad and pen on a 40mph road to write verse is apparently more dangerous than texting.
• Cooking. Getting carried away going to look for a notebook and pen and then sitting there writing whilst dinner is unattended during heating may lead to the small emergency of the kitchen being on fire. The drawback of this is that the landlord will probably not give you your bond back. And you and/or your housemates may suffer a condition known as death.
• On a shift. My pockets are filled with poetry lines scribbled on the back of receipts. The problem with this is that these poetry lines are often heavily sexually charged and my fancy-pants handwriting is very distinctive so if I accidentally leave one on the floor/shelf/office desk/checkout, it may be read by someone who thinks it is a written threat of sexual harrassment and I will be fired for being a dangerous pervert of the workplace.
• In a nightclub. In a pub, this is acceptable; you may even look intriguing. However writing a sonnet in Oceana will lead to a glassed head.

I currently have a very long draft I ended up typing into my phone last night at the impractical hour of 2am when the knowledge that I'd have to be awake again at not long after 4am to get ready for work suddenly made me a crazed insomniac. My odd hours and busy week meant that I had to miss my friend's gig last

Note to self: Never wear these on a date. Ever.

night which was sad and I instead listened to the theme tune of Gladiator in my car and suddenly the act of overtaking became somewhat epic. At 1am I was matching the socks in my drawer to bore myself to sleep and tidying my room for the second time. Neither activities worked very well, but I do now have a wonderfully arranged room and found a pair of delightful socks with terriers on them.

I also found a pair of my brother's Thomas the Tank Engine pants aged 3-4 which my mother had put in with my washing when I stayed at her house a little while back. I am aware that I am not in possession of a big 'bootilicious' behind as it were, but aged 3-4 is slightly insulting.

So, despite being so sleep-deprived I printed out all the wrong price changes in work and had to start all over again (luckily, I did this in record time and everything was out on display before the shop opened...no, not like that...) I managed to get through the shift and complete all of my tasks on price control by 10am in the manner of the living dead of Scooby Doo. By the time I finished, I half-expected to see the Mystery Machine pulling up to park and kidnap me.

"Hi, do you have a Nectar card?"

On Wednesday night I was introduced to the poetry open mic night at The Brunswick. I really appreciated the chance and it was great to go to a poetry evening with such a different atmosphere. The crowd was fantastic; really supportive of one another-- as it is in Mozart's-- but there was something more homely about it, something that had much more of the local feel of a proper Swansea pub. Being a Swansea girl through-and-through perhaps it was this that appealed to me. I've got to know a lot of familiar faces at the poetry events now and I love going to see them all and chat over copious amounts of wine. 

The hangover Thursday morning though was another thing. When I say "YEAH BUT I'M LIKE, IMMUNE TO PINOT GRIGIO" I'm not. I'm a twat.

People were so complimentary of others' work too, and that encouragement is so important when it comes to performing poetry. I'd never have thought I'd be able to stand up and read anything I've written, but my confidence has grown massively through the supportive network there is in the Swansea poetry scene and I am ever-thankful to The Howl for helping me to really develop and grow in confidence. I have only missed one Howl session at Mozart's since I started going last October because that second and third Thursday of the month has become so important to me and I have got so much out of it. The people there have become like a little literary family (albeit with a drink problem). It's great to see more and more people getting up there and reading and I know that it's not just myself that has found it such a massive boost in overcoming that obstacle of public speaking. 

Just don't ever ask me to ring for a takeaway.

"HI THIS IS DOMINO'S, CAN I TAKE YOUR ORDER PLEASE?"

I've also been asked to do a poetry feature at the Uplands Tavern which I am flattered by and will be a new challenge again, but one I thoroughly look forward to. If any of you idiots who actually read all of this blog (seriously, what do you get out of it? I'm a rambling git with a cat fetish and a screwloose) would like to come and support me/pelt me with tomatoes please do. Might as well appear to have friends/enemies when even my cats won't show their faces due to the fact they don't yet exist.

There is always a time and place for
Ryan Gosling. Always.

Now sufficiently power-napped and caffeinated, I am going to join two friends for a girly night with DVDs; something I haven't done for a long time. I'm missing spending as much time with a lot of my friends but my shift changes and the sheer volume of work for my finals is destroying my social life the way Justin Bieber destroys my sex drive. Two poetry nights last week were only justified by locking myself in the library and analysing the shit out of Othello. In 3 weeks I'll have finished my degree and will be able to annoy my bezzies as much as I bloody well want to and feed them cake and all the rest of it. Most of my friends are male, so I've become used to going to the pub and pretending I have a penis, which is wonderful and I do love them to bits but it will be nice for the first time in a long long time to do the whole "girly" thing and watch films with Ryan Gosling in or watch 'Magic Mike' (this film by the way can be enjoyed just as much on mute) and have totally different conversations. I'm going to take my Pikachu onesie.

It makes life more exciting.