About

This is a temporary lodging of the horrible ‘between’, until we get a place in the ‘exclusive club’ (insert ideal profession); a place to seek solace in others stories and take comfort in how as the years go by things do improve, but even three, four, five years down the line the ‘battle’ is still being fought (cue light sabers and defiant star wars music).

2 thoughts on “About

  1. Give me Rejection and I will fight back, a Drama Graduate.

    Sometimes rejection can cause a great deal of pain like no other. So painful in fact that it feels like a physical punch – one in the stomach, one in the heart, one in the head (“am I delusional?”). It physically cripples with its soul destroying, organ mushing and gut wrenching force. When Miss Reject visits I find that I just want to flop on to the bed – so that I can fall and sink into the hopelessness my body has contorted into and forcibly clutch my insides to stay, personifying reject herself. The worst is when I don’t have access to my rock, of John Lewis support and I have to support MYSELF right there and then.

    Sometimes, at the aftermath of an audition, whilst standing in the grounds of the place that does not want me, around the people that I want to be, waiting twenty minutes for a lift and the confinements of the car to allow my body to cry its due. Of course all I can do is stand tall and pretend that I am not affected by the truth (they should see me acting now!) – but standing stationary in an intensely small car park and barn conversion that demands active movement, reeks rejection.

    It is amazing how one minute you can feel like this strength of power, literally lifting your head up high and stretching your back tall, not afraid to be bold and seen, fighting in fact, to be noticed. An imaginary puppeteer controls you, pulls string through your body and out of your head, taut.

    The next minute, at the spoken classification of your worth, which is less than you thought, you become a rapidly shrinking shadow of your former self. You freeze your spine into staying, but you know that if someone touches you on the shoulder or asks if you are okay, it will just flop.

    When you are without ‘label’, you are entitled to ‘stick’ desirable on yourself and any adjective you like. When this label is ripped off however, it’s like a plaster exposing wounded flesh, the effects of the action stinging for a duration of time (depending on pain tolerance). At an audition, where rejection takes place on the same day with no computer to hide behind or trusty mattress to send you to sleep and unaware, this Stings. Granted, your ‘revealed’ in front of a group of others who are also exposed, but what about the friend you made at lunch, who is in another group, safe, with her plaster on? She is talented and wonderful and she now knows the truth…

    The looser bus pulls in and everyone but one gets on. I stand in the car park and wait for my lift, which is fifteen minutes late. I feel like an eyesore, a fraudster who claimed she was something but got found out. I feign stiffness until the car pulls up and I slide onto the car seat and wish hard my brain to forget.

    Months later…

    The wounds healed and I’m stung again, but with more plaster pulling, blood-soaked seeping, exposing severity; after proving commitment to a young company and spending all job seekers allowance to drive there, but rejected from a Graduate theatre program. Filled with the Directors promise for a year to gain automatic Graduate status, she caught me unawares and suddenly said No. Her assurance for a year that I would be accepted, had made me continue a flexible supermarket job and refrain from venturing any further than my village family home on a permanent basis. The ‘sorry’ email, told me this was because in interview I wanted to do Acting and Directing and others, had specified that they wanted to concentrate on ‘Backstage’. Yet words with the Director herself, told me others who had been there longer were the priority and the reason for their acceptance. I would have happily accepted this, except three people who joined much later after me were offered a place. Contradiction and lies only served to make me feel worse, until I found a commitment to Outreach allowed a girl with no prior commitment, except a baby, to come into the Graduate club. I lived half an hour away and the longest distance away from the company than every participant and the Girl.

    Into a fresh year, I’m proud of my knocks and I know that nothing or no one can define me, should I choose not to let them. (At sixteen I contracted ME, quit a performing arts diploma to spend a year in bed and being fed by my Mum, quite the humiliating experience but now the best thing to happen.) Plans were crushed, but because of that, never forgotten.

    People pulled my label off and exposed me, for the better. If I was going to write myself a label to stick to myself during an audition or interview, or anything else that might creep doubt, I would write Fierce and if someone felt that they should tear it off again, well, they will not be able to, due to the scars ‘mountaineered’ underneath.

    From a 24 year old Graduate, who wishes to remain anonymous but Fierce.

  2. Basically there are too many graduates who want to go into ‘glamorous’ sectors i.e. fashion, journalism, PR, etc, so it’s easy pickings for companies in these sectors.

    You’ll never see an engineering company (or a bank or a law firm) offering an unpaid internship because graduates are in demand; but magazines/fashion houses etc know that they can get people to work for them unpaid because they’re desperate to get into the industry. This isn’t meant to put down graduates but is instead an encouragement – don’t play their game. Choose something better.

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