Calling International Rescue...

All week. ALL WEEK I have been trying to write this blog but have had nothing to write. I’ve gone into a bit of a St. Mary (or ‘hibernation’ as my old flatmate Clare used to call it) and it’s been all I could do to pick up the phone and send a text. Oh, quel dommage, woe is me! Etc etc. Of course, now I absolutely have to do my Underbelly blog or risk disembowelment I suddenly find inspiration to write this one instead. This is not positive

Truth is I’m suffering from the most serious and dreaded of my mental ailments; lack of fabulousness. I can cope with most things, but feeling non-fabulous stuffs me every time. Ugh. I have been home all week in order to save my money (am off to Cornwall on the 14th to see Ra, Mark and little Tek so need to save money for this which will, mercifully, be fabulous) and being home all week, in Welling, is recognised as the foremost cause of the fabulousness draining out of you. Welling is like the dementor for fabulousness. In addition, the fact it’s snowing has kept me confined to base, or at least out of central London. In Hong Kong, when there’s a typhoon 8, you can still get across the water on the MTR (though you do have to wait at least 15 minutes) but in the London ‘burbs you can’t get a few miles up the road as the buses are jammed in traffic and the trains point blank refuse to run when there’s ‘the wrong kind of snow on the line’. Terrorists take note; bombs do not slow our transport system, believe me; I remember getting home with hardly any hassle on 7/7. You’d do better off to hide our gritter vans.

So I am whinging, I know. Whinging is no fun and I am the first to kick ass when people whinge. I bellow that the opportunities are there and you’ve just got to get OUT THERE etc. Oh, but Welling dents your belief. I’m having dreams about the Hong Kong skyline, any skyline actually. The tall buildings stretching into the horizon seem to be my brain’s go-to symbol when representing all that is fabulous. And I miss it. I miss those tall buildings, those lights and all the people scurrying in between them. All that action and activity and opportunity. Though reasonably large and impressive, the new Tescos in Welling just doesn’t make the heart soar in the same way.

A small mention for my Pa here. Although my mother and I are the spitting image of each other, we are completely different in personality. She wants me settle down and knock out sprogs soon with, Oh God, anyone. I literally think she’s on the verge of selling me to the first man who walks up to the door. After my dad and I did the shopping this week we popped into The Furze Wren for a bevvie and actually had a conversation. My father is a taciturn man, not given to chatting but I think we had the longest, most in depth conversation we ever had. I always knew he was more adventurous than my mum but I never realised how alike we are. And he’s on my side! And he’s confident everything will work out fine for me, not that I will ruin my life by foolishly refusing to settle down and breed. What with the wanderlust and moodiness I’m very proud to say I’m my father’s daughter alright. It’s nice to have one parent onside.

And now onto friends; I apologise as I’m not particularly useful right now. I keep leaving my phone around the house, or letting it run out of juice or not waking up till 5pm so I sleepily read texts sent in the morning before forgetting all about them when I awake later. And I’m not texting generally with my usual ferocity as I can’t afford to come out and hate to say that I can’t and anyway, if I could I doubt I’d be any fun. I need to get my shit together but the days seem to be sliding by so quickly and easily and well, I can do it tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow, no rush, it’s not like there’s anything exciting waiting...

Gaaagh, but there is! I remember there is. I used to have a LIFE. With a JOB and BURLESQUE and TRAVEL and FUN! But getting back to normal levels of cheeriness seems insurmountable right now; it’s just so much easier to watch endless ‘Come Dine With Me’ in my dressing gown. ALL DAY.

So I need help. And everyone has already been helping LOADS but, greedily, I need even more. HELP. HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP! Milly needs her fabulousness back. In the wise words of the Bee Gees “‘what you doing on your back? You should be dancing”

I should be dancing. HELP ME!!!!

What I like today: That I finally did my Underbelly blog, Wearing Sharron’s multi-coloured swirly skirt and heels to try to aid fabulousness, drinking the remnants of last week’s ‘Emerald Aisle’ cocktail, deliberately spelling ‘Emerald Aisle’ incorrectly, that I'm meeting Annie at the airport in 8 hours.

What I don’t like today: The dementors that stole my life and fabulousness and the energy to get my fabulousness back.

If I Write It, The Career Will Come...

I AM A WRITER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITER I AM A WRTIER I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITET I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITER I AM A WRITER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO THERE!!!!! :op

MWOO HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Unfortunately there’s nothing new or interesting to report, I haven’t suddenly been given my dream job by The Guardian or Wanderlust magazine (or indeed Lust magazine). Instead I am just practising saying “I am a writer” as how the hell is anyone supposed to think of me as one if I just say “Oooh, yeah, well, um, I write a bit and y’know, not much and... oooh, look WINE!”. Ridiculous. I’ve got to believe I am a writer if I want other people to believe it too. Although I am taking some convincing.

With that in mind, I have joined Twitter (Ugh! I know! But Suzie at Underbelly advised me to in order to promote my theatre blog so please ‘follow’ me if you’re on there http://twitter.com/#!/noisymilly It is with some horror that I paste that link in). When my next theatre blog is up (should be in the next couple of days) I will then promote it on Twitter. HORROR. But how does one get lots of followers? Advice please. How much further do I have to debase myself to promote me as a writer?!!

In other exciting news, I still have no job. But I have jobseekers’ allowance, The Apprentice, champagne and two Colin Farrell DVDs on order from Play.com so really, how bad can life be? I have been stressing A LOT recently though. The only time I get really stressed is when I question myself and the decisions I make. I find myself asking, ‘Should I settle down to some sort of career?’, ‘Should I be with someone?’, ‘Should I listen to all the people who sneer “Back to reality” at me, as though I’ve spent the last two and a half years in a pool full of cock and thousand dollar notes’? Because some people seem to live their lives as though they are a burden, they believe life isn’t ‘real’ unless it’s dull, repetitive and involves all kinds of heavy responsibility that they may or may not enjoy. When I am uncertain of myself and my own choices I start to think they’re right. That they are ‘grown up’ and ‘responsible’ and that I have somehow failed in some way and that I must ‘get real’ and allow my future to involve the discontent that they exhibit on the faces when I meet them in a bar, or at my bank, or when I’m job hunting.

But nah, bollocks to it. Currently the only ambition I have is to run screaming with laughter through the Irish countryside, pursued by a hot Irish man I will later shag and oh, to have adventures, many many adventures. And to write. And to get Stephen Fry to follow me on Twitter. There have to be some advantages, after all. I just can’t settle (whatever that means) now. Don’t get me wrong, if I met a guy right now who wanted to be my partner in crime and head off on adventures with me I’d snap him right up but I am in no way ready for a place of my own in a fixed destination, marriage and (ugh!) kids.

With that in mind, I must thank my dear friend Lola for supporting me a lot this weekend and making me feel better. She basically talked me down out of my scary panic attack. I am lucky as, though I don’t have any bros or sisters, Lola is one of the family I got to choose. And the best of it is, we are completely different and yet totally supportive of each other. She is very much a settle down gal, she met her lovely Derrick and now they have a lovely home and are getting married next year (YAY!). I on the other hand am a horrible cynic and the thought of anything commitment-y (marriage, mortgage, staying in the same job/place for more than 3 years) panics the shit out of me. But Lola and I support each other. She’s not me and I’m not her but that doesn’t stop me from being so happy that she’s getting married that I’m going to cry ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE CEREMONY and doesn’t stop her supporting all my wayward and often foolish decisions. So BLESS HER for telling me that I know what’s right for me and to just keep going and not to panic. I shall remember this next time I see sodding Baz at the recruitment consultancy.

So then, the phase I’m going through now is like a chrysalis. Yes, there is little happening, but I can feel things starting to pick up again. I feel ready to get back out there, chat, schmooze, do stuff, get involved. I DESPARATELY need a job, it’s true but I just have to keep trying on that one. Normal Mel service will be resumed soon. In the meantime, I am going to continue drinking champagne, get my haircut tomorrow and hope that the Postie brings my Colin Farrell DVDS soon!

What I like today: Blogging, Twitter (I know!), champagne, The Apprentice (in particular, Stella!), Lola, the increase in Lola's wedding plans.

What I don't like today; That I have no job or indeed career, that I'm starting to like Twitter.