Sunday 17 July 2011

The Glee Project... Life in a quagmire, and light at the end of the tunnel

Now since my last blog a lot has happened. First of all I went to Glastonbury, or as I like to call it, My First Festival. Anyone who has been to Glastonbury, or any festival for that matter, or anyone who has read a newspaper and seen pictures of Glastonbury (this year in particular) will know that it's not exactly a My First Festival kind of place. It's no Usborne Book of Poetry with short stanzas and illustrations. There is no easing in. There is no ease at all. It's hard. In no particular order the challenges include: the mud, then the heat, the toilets, the camping, the bugs, the thousands upon thousands of people all going the same way at once in a quagmire/dust bowl (delete as appropriate). However... I don't want to be down on the experience. I had an amazing time. I laughed so much, I danced a lot, and I wept tears of overwhelmed excitement and love through Beyonce. And I grew - I got rid of a spider on my own by luring it into a tube of Pringles and getting it the hell out of my personal space. Don't worry the spider was fine - they like salt and vinegar. Then, after Glasto, and lessons in spider disposal 101, I went home, showered for an hour, and slept for a day. 


After Glasto I went to see Glee Live (judge not lest ye be judged, reader) and Take That in the same week. Cue more overwhelmedness (not a word, per se, but my feelings transcend grammar and spelling, mkay?) 


All this being overwhelmed is not particularly good for me. It's bittersweet. I love Glee, yet I'm not on the musical stage. Sad. I love Gary Barlow, yet I will never be WITH Gary Barlow. Another fail. I feel empowered by Beyonce, yet I'm still pootling along in my own fairly ineffectual life. Tricky. 


Add to that the stumbling blocks that are currently littering my existence and it's enough to make me feel somewhat deflated, and somewhat at the end of my tether. At a time like this I need tea, toast, and TV - stat. Sad but true. The holy trinity of comfort and reassurance. Where better to start than the cosy shmosy place where era-defining programming meets reality television - The Glee Project. Now I know I have not actually blogged about Glee before, but I really don't think it would be healthy - let it be said that I love Glee. I'm 27 years old and I love it with the same abandon that I loved Kian from Westlife in my teenage years. To be clear, that's a lot. A blog about Glee would be a series of incomprehensible sentences about how much I love Glee/Finn/Sam/Blaine/music/musicals/the musical stage etc etc ad nauseum. There really is no point. Let's skip it. For both of our sakes. 


So to The Glee Project. The premise? Win the chance to be on the next series of Glee. A seven episode story arc. There is no criteria as long as you look like a teenager (that counts me out) - you can be tall, short, fat, thin, ugly, beautiful, whatevs. Wonderful. How very Glee. The programme is put together a bit like an episode of Glee. They sing songs, they dance, they compete. At the end someone goes home (in a moment of musical theatricality - natch). People - I loved it. As with everything in my current life it was bittersweet. I mean it's great to see these people take their shot, but I want to be on the musical stage in case that wasn't really clear, so in some ways it annoyed me.


Anyway... this is all a bit me, me, me isn't it? Stick with me just for a couple of moments longer because the experiences of the last few weeks have led me to something... Ambition. And fear. There are so many things I'm scared of it gets a bit ridiculous. But I'm battling it now. Glastonbury was a massive challenge for a person who normally lives smack dab in the middle of the comfort zone. A small victory maybe, and a personal one only. I'm aware that stalwart festival-goers may look askance as they wade past me with mud up to their eyebrows and smiles as broad as Beyonce's range. They look at me and they sense the misery. They probably think 'lighten up, it's just mud'. But you know what I'm thinking when I look back at those people? You are covered in e coli. And I'm not OK with that. 


However, here's another victory, and this is one for individuality, because I survived it, people. I survived the mud without so much as a runny tummy, and I think they did too. So hooray for us different peeps co existing. What a rush man. 


That said, I know the fear will never leave me, and I know I won't leave the comfort zone. It's too comfortable. I know what I like and I like what I know. I like a clean kitchen, and clean hands. I like pasta. I like a cup of tea or three with a chocolate disgestive. I like the comfort of watching Neighbours on Sky Plus at any time of day or night. I like my friends. I like my family. I like my house. I don't live on the edge, but I hope I don't take up too much room. I'm quite tall and thin after all. 


SO where is ambition in all of this? Well actually, it's come out of all of this, because I'm my own worst enemy, and I've annoyed myself enough. I'm aware of the limits my fears impose on me, but I'm reluctant to confront them. So I'm taking the scenic route to where I want to get to. My mind is malleable. I DO believe what I read in the papers. I read magazine and newspaper articles about achieving what you want to, and I believe them. I fixate event. But what are the majority of these articles really? They're an idea, a pitch, a go-ahead, and a deadline. You know what else they are? Recycled. The next day. What these day long ideas do is highlight my shortcomings and the fact that I'm not on the path I should be on. But what I'm realising is that I don't care about that. I read something else this week that proclaimed: "There is no such thing as destiny. This is excellent news!" And I liked that, so I'm believing that instead. You can recycle it. But I'm keeping that one. Thank you newspapers and magazines for your thoughts, but I'm over you. I've got closure. I've had this feeling for a while now, that in spite of my neuroses, my desperate desire to find The One countered by my inability to commit, and despite my many, many fears - that there's more for me. There. I said it. There is more for me. So I'm off to get it - recycle that. I'll keep you posted...