Saturday 24th November 2012, 1.21am

They say you should write what you know, but so often I don't know what to write. I know that I need to write. That somehow as I exhale my words onto an empty page things start to make sense, life becomes less confusing. Clarity.
Right now, inside me I have this bubbling energy, this nervous pot bubbling below the surface of my chest, I want to cry. It's not sadness, it's not anything, it's this overwhelming feeling I get sometimes when I feel like there is so much to contain and not enough to do.
I'm tired. I'm over thinking.
I just wrote several different lines and deleted them.
Right now I am so happy and yet so incomplete. I know that we should never rely on others to pull us through and ultimately we are alone but I'm beginning to really miss that feeling of connection, of understanding, of unity. I'm struggling with the concept of having everything I want and/or desire and yet no one to share it with. I adore being alone. I adore sitting under my duvet right now and typing away. But a double bed is made for two.
How do you ever know if you are ready again? And if you are ready, whose to say it will ever come?
Writing is not coming easily tonight. I should have trusted my gut and gone to sleep. At least then maybe I would dream. I dream such wonderful things. At the moment my dreams are all focused around touch. Affection. It's divine. But then you wake up.
I've been through so many emotions in the past year. And it has been a year. Since we ended. I'd have to say the main emotion has been unexpected: Anger. I've never felt so angry at the injustice of a situation before. That there was nothing to be done. That we couldn't work it out. That I ran away. That I had to meet someone so important only to have hell thrust in my face after one too many drinks.
I still can't make sense of it. I think it is good for me to be honest for once.
I tried to picture our society without alcohol, without drugs. I used to wish they didn't exist. I still occasionally kick myself for not being strong enough to give up everything for you. You said you would give up everything for me. But there lay the problem. I didn't want you to do it for me. I wanted you to do it for you. And now I sit here a year later and wonder if anything has changed at all. Maybe you've met some incredible new woman who has saved you from yourself. Maybe I was a coward.
You can only make decisions based on your knowledge and feelings at the time. So I can't ever say that I made the wrong decision. But if it was the right decision then why does it still hurt?
Every time I think I'm home free another tear will form.
I keep telling myself that time will heal all. And it will, eventually. It has to. But time is taking it's time...

Tuesday 20th November 2012, 23.53

Coming home alone is a tricky thing when you do what we do.
We spend all day in close contact with one another, expressing emotions, cathartic artistry, touching, feeling, holding, all splattered across the blank canvas of our stage.
'Take it and enjoy! Learn!' we cry internally to our audience. You pray for connection, for them to receive. Relief, or so it should be to leave work having achieved your target.
But wait. once you've wiped away the make-up, peeled away this make-believe reality and find yourself on the dark, wet streets of London, you are alone. Your single footsteps penetrate the heavy night air.
The door shuts, the room is dark, the sheets are bare. You know it's ok. But still, still, so still.

West End Debut.

I sit on my bed. Unmade, of course (some things never change).
There is mess around me in my tiny room. A few items of clothing, expensive, should be hung up, lie on the floor from my trying-on session for the party.
Faded pictures of Marilyn on the wardrobe, frames stuffed with photos of friends, of family, of home, of theatre tickets, newspaper cuttings on the wall.
On the back of my door, a detailed toning work-out, hand written, above a list of dance classes.
A french-style dressing table, filled with hair-pins, perfumes, trinkets, business cards on the mirror.
A shelf of hats, a fan, a feather boa.
Today is the day. The day I waited for. The day I worked for and never lost faith in. As I've watched people gallop ahead of me or fall behind, have families, fall in love; as I've seen my relationships fall apart, my friends move away, this, this is the one thing I have always believed in.
It may sound "stagey", self-indulgent, or just dramatic, but every moment in my life has led up to this moment. Every school solo, every single one of the 600 agent letters, every audition. The 20 drama school applications that I kissed and wished upon as I posted them back in sleepy Somerset.
I almost feel numb. I don't feel surprised, I didn't feel overwhelmed as I stood out for first preview, because it felt so right. Finally, thank you world. For how long? Who knows. I'll be back waitressing in a Walthamstow restaurant in the blink of an eye. And that's ok.
Lost for words, I blankly sit staring at the screen. Tears come and go.
Breathe deep. Today will all be over tomorrow. But for now, bring it on.

My Week with Marilyn Review

My thoughts on 'MY WEEK WITH MARILYN':

Before I start I should probably state that I am someone who nears on obsession with Marilyn Monroe. I have read her autobiography countless times and before watching the film I had read Colin's diary....well, I read the DIARY part. The diary is a very honest account of a young lad's time working on a film. After the diary has finished, he sees a gap, a few days where he didn't write entries, and low and behold then tells us of an intimate week with the most famous and sought after woman on the planet. I ask, was she dead by the time he slipped this section in? It upsets me that since her death, people seem to want to capitalize on her fame in any way possible.

The story was fabricated and cut. Colin, in his diary states that he didn't even find Marilyn attractive. And why, I ask, was Colin's gay rendezvous with an actor cut out completely?
The book suggests that Marilyn didn't even know Colin's name. I just question how likely it is that a closeness with the 3rd Assistant Director could even be possible.

Performance-wise, I felt it varied. Dame Judi Dench was fabulous (but Dame Sibul is just so Goddamn likable in the book that you cannot help but fall in love with her). Kenneth Branagh has a very tricky task. Olivier was famed for behaving disgustingly towards Marilyn on set (I guess, not un-provoked giving the stress he was under with Marilyn's lateness and the presence of Paula Strasberg on set) and yet in the film you were almost totally on Olivier's side. Not because of Williams being frustrating, simply because of Kenneth's likability.

Michelle Williams had moments of sheer perfection as Marilyn Monroe but the opening and closing song and dance sequences were TERRIBLE. Her diction and vocal choices as Marilyn when speaking were near perfect but I felt in general she totally lacked that magic and sparkle and her eyes were almost dead (and not in good way). I always imagined Marilyn's eyes to tell a Million stories not just self pity or drugged up sleepiness. I realize I am incredibly protective of Marilyn (and totally jealous of Williams' opportunity) so I imagine my views may be somewhat biased.

Eddie Redmayne as Colin was pretty flawless and totally fitted my image and imagination of the young boy (despite storylines being twisted and changed). The jealousy of Vivien Leigh was almost entirely made up. An OBVIOUS and TYPICAL choice to pin women agaisnt each other. I don't understand why they made Marilyn out to be constantly beautiful when the reality is that with no make up and a lot of drugs and a sour attitude, none of the men on set found her attractive (until the rushes were viewed) ESPECIALLY Sir Laurence.

Emma Watson was believable if a little self-centered. (Another fabricated story line - in reality, Colin went off her because she wasn't easy and ended up with a blow job off an older man). I was upset that Plod didn't have more humour, he's such a joyous man in the book and as for Dominic Cooper, well if he felt the need to give up acting, I can't say I'd lose a tear....

Sunday 28th August 2011 1.15am

I'm bored. So I write.

My boyfriend tells me I should find inspiration in the countryside, in the trees. Maybe it's my country upbringing, maybe it's my cold heart, but I don't find this life inspirational. People are my inspiration. The breath of life, the living creature amongst the still.

Still. Still life. Work, eat, sleep.

No. Just, no.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted nothing more than to get to London and let my life begin. The people, the excitement, the 'something-to-do-no-matter-what-the-time' mentality.

I am the first to sit back and admire the world, the natural beauty of our universe. Why, just now I stopped my friends and made them admire the stars. Look at those stars. You don't see those stars in London. Ten stars per postage stamp in your sight. Stars. Wow. And then....

Well. Jeez. Sometimes I admire this country life. Sometimes I pity. Neither are right. I try to picture this situation with my loved one in my arms. I think the bliss would be blissful, for a short while. It's like a holiday. Everybody loves to relax, but 4 weeks later you want a challenge (or you should).

Maybe that's why country folk (generally) get settled and have children earlier. Who knows.

My brother has learning difficulties. He has really struggled his whole life. About a month ago he came to visit me in London for the first time, alone. The more I talked to him, the more I realised, you are so lucky. No, it's not lucky to have these problems, these issues. But my GOD, he knows what he wants to do in life. He knows he has to work with cars, he has an ambition, a target, a place he has to get to. I have always been the same. Ok, I didn't really struggle in school (apart from severe laziness in anything that didnt fulfill me) but at least I always knew what I wanted. My Mum remembers me, at a very young age, telling her that I was going to move to London and be an actress. How lucky. How remarkable to always know what you wanted. I honestly can't imagine not really knowing.

I really hope my best friend doesn't hate me for writing this, but I have always admired her for her intelligence, her supreme authority and wiseness, and yet I feel she has not found her calling. I hope she NOW has, as the career she now pursues seems to be something that she cares about and wishes to pursue deeply. But it always tore me up how she was the most deep, interesting, phenomenal person I knew, and yet she couldn't quite find what she wanted to do in life. All I want/wanted was for her to be happy. Content. Serene. Excited.

I hope she's found it. She is my rock. And all I want is for her to be happy. And this won't be the last time. I hope that our friendship will blossom throughout our lives, and therefore we shall face bigger struggles together than 'what job should I do'. We will face, marriage, children, cancer, dying parents, betraying friends, big decisions.....possibly. And if these things to happen to us, I want us to deal with them together. Friends are for life, not just for christmas. You can divorce your partners. You choose your friends, not your family.

bla bla bla. Thoughts of a random 23 year old in the middle of the countryside, somewhere, some way off, mean nothing, to most. But someday, someone will read my words and be moved. For whatever reason. Even if it just makes them pick up their phone and ring that best friend, that brother.

Goodnight. Choose wisely.

Wednesday 24th August 2011 11.27am

I've been a busy girl. Where to start?

Well, 'Little Shop of Horrors' opened. I was terrified. It's been quite an eye opener for me, this project. For one, it's been a little while since I've had such a big challenge and it also happens to be the biggest job of my career so far. For two, working in a new way with a new director has been interesting. The show is a brilliant success and everything has worked out but it's interesting to come into contact with people that work in different ways. My weak point in acting has often been my movement. My (sometimes in the past) low body confidence has often caused me to feel insecure with movement choices when creating a character and so in this show when faced with a directer whose main skill is movement, I am faced with a challenge. I am a thinker. When I say thinker, I don't think I am one of those stuck-in-a-book actors, but I do like to make sure that everything, every movement, every joke comes from truth. Something which is sometimes hard to find in musical theatre.

But, the show is open, and I am learning something new every day. The cast are fabulous and I'm looking forward to settling into our short run now that rehearsals are over. Press night tomorrow. Fingers crossed for more lovely reviews.

Talking of low body confidence - this has been something that has had me torn up inside for years and years and I've finally decided to do something about it. No, I'm not seeing a shrink or seeing a hypnotist (all of these things I have considered), I am taking up Burlesque classes. And I am terrified. Ok so I've always been an impulsive person. But this sudden impulse requires me to stand on stage at Madame Jojo's in little more than knickers and some stickers on my boobs. Hmm. I am going to the classes with Tigz Rice (Burlesque photographer extraordinaire) and she is looking for increased body confidence too. There's no doubt about it, I will be eating a lot better and working out more in the build up to this momentus event BUT won't it be wonderful to stand on stage and feel beautiful and liberated? I hope so, Gok Wan seems to believe in this method so why can't I? If in december you find me locked away under a mountain of dorito bags you can guess it probably didn't go to plan......

It was my birthday yesterday. And what a lovely birthday it was. Cocktails with friends, dirty kebab, breakfast in bed, morning napping, new ipod and babiliss hair rollers (yes!), posh nosh lunch at the top of the oxo towere with my beloved, ring shopping (although I'm yet to pick the right one) and 'Betwixt' at Trafalgar Studios (brilliantly bizarre - although slightly upset that Ellen Greene had left the cast and I had not realised). 23. Don't think I can claim to be the baby anymore. Although, God bless those friends that will always be ten years older - you know who you are - (you will always be my favorites).

This morning I had my first meeting with Miles, the director and choreographer of our new Burlesque/Follies/Revue/Show/Spectacular at Proud Cabaret. Not much to report, lots of idea being thrown around - all of which I like. Let's just say, Madonna better watch out. Coco's going VOGUE.

Summer is quickly fading and christmas seems to be approaching quicker than is humanly possible. But this year I don't mind. If my luck carries on the way it's been going I'm happy for life to trundle along at whatever pace it wants. Love, work, family, friends. Yep, things are pretty peachy. (Ok, some sunshine would be nice but we can't have it all).

Saturday 6th August 2011 8.30pm

I leave for Leicestershire on Monday morning. Yep. Off to Leicestershire to play Audrey in "Little Shop of Horrors" for the summer. I am so very excited but so very scared that it will be over before I have time to blink. I keep standing outside of myself in rehearsals and take it all in. Everyone else is so calm, collected, not bothered etc. I guess to them it's just another job. But I am loving every moment. I had to stop myself from shedding a little tear. (wuss).

I am so ruddy ambitious, I do wonder if I will ever stop getting so excited when things actually happen. I'm always on a journey, always trying to get somewhere. But I'm not really sure where that somewhere is. And that's fine, right now anyways. But do you ever worry that you'll never be content? I guess the sky's the limit so why stop just as you reach the stars?

As a kid I always wanted to be famous. I don't have that need anymore. In fact, it was a sad day last year when I realized at the age of 21 I was probably too old to be a popstar. Now, I think I could take it or leave it. I don't think fame would do me any good as a person. But it would be lovely to be respected for your art, to be able to pick and choose roles, songs, red carpet dresses!

I know I wasn't put on this earth to be ordinary. And I've known that from the moment I could think. But my life isn't ordinary. And that's the main reason I started writing these blogs. So this ridiculously insane life of mine could be documented in some way. For me to read when I'm old and sat in a rocking chair. For my grandchildren to read and see that their Gran used to be hard working and talented.

I CANNOT IMAGINE doing a 'normal' job. I just don't have it in me. Sometimes I wish I did. Sometimes I envy those people that seem so content with their routine, their regularity, their desk, their suits, their home-by-five-dinner-on-the-table-at-six. But nope. I couldn't do it. I go from job to job, theatre to theatre, club to club, and I wouldn't change it for the world. And I don't want it to change either.

I do know (despite my mother insisting that I'm a 'career girl'), that all this would be nothing without love. I wish I could convince myself of that when I'm out of work!!

Last Monday, most of my old class of friends from Central went out for drinks in memory of Professor Bruce Kirle (the most inspirational man that ever graced my life AND the man who gave me my ticket into this crazy career by unleashing me on Central). We sat, and we talked, and we remembered. And my best friend Katy looked around the table at our friends, then turned to me and said : "I thank him for a lot of things, but mostly I thank him for bringing us together".

A few nights ago, my boyfriend and I walked arm in arm and he said : "Life without family is nothing. Family is all there is".

I remember Bruce saying: "What good are the good things in life, if you have no one to share it with?"

No good, no good at all.