the lucky ones...

When I was about 19, my mum told me that I had always been lucky.

At the time I was a little offended but I knew where she was coming from.

Impolite Conversation...

This post doesn't quite say everything I want it to and i am hoping/guessing it will start quite a good conversation so I will probably come back and re-edit my thoughts at a later date...

It may be impolite conversation to discuss payment and wages at a dinner party but it is definitely one that needs  to be brought to the table in the arts banquet.

I don't know the legalities behind all the different ways of paying performers and artists for their time and work, and once again I have to admit to being ignorant. But, what I do know is that, even if I knew all of these, chances are it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference.

There are so many ways of getting around the issue of payment, and so many excuses used by artists and the people hiring them to justify doing work for free.

I need the experience.
It's a charity event.
It's a great opportunity to network.
It's a foot in the door.

I have used all of the above, and in many ways I think there is an element of truth in all of them. I have learnt A LOT over the past two yo from working for free, from interning to performing, and many of the experiences have been invaluable. But now I feel I have cut my teeth in this world and it is time I took a long hard look at what I believe my work to be worth.

When it comes to performing and touring with my "grown up" shows (let me stop your right there, I've already heard every 'ooo adult show' joke and innuendo under the sun) then I am well aware that I have to be flexible when it comes to fees, and that in most situations I will always have to find some way of funding this myself. To quote Whitney, it's not right, but it's ok.

However, more and more, payment is becoming an issue when it comes to my community and children's work. Again, some ventures I am willing to fund myself in hope of a pay off at the end (ie. setting up my own workshops etc.) but the way I see it, it is up to me to OFFER free work where I see fit.

It is a simple case of give and take. I will give so much if I can take something from it.

The other rule I am implementing is the difference between asking and offering.

If you ASK me to take part in your event, then you should not automatically presume I will do it for free. The way I see it, is there is a reason you are asking me to take part. First and foremost, that reason is, you can't do the work I do yourself. I spend a lot of time planning my children's and community work, creating individual projects for each event and making sure I arrive with all the materials needed to carry it off. This takes up a lot of time, skill, dedication and talent.

If your sink breaks, you do not ask the plumber to fix it for free.

There may be times when I offer to work for you, to contribute something to help, to do something for free. And I will have my own reasons for doing this, maybe I have something new to try out, maybe I can afford to give my time to a charitable cause, maybe I just really like the festival. And that is MY decision..

People that work in the arts are some of the most dedicated and passionate workers you will find. They have to be in order to carry on and not to, quite frankly, go insane. The work that we are doing is work that not everyone can do. Not everyone can act. Not everyone write a play. Not everyone can create an innovative installation. And we have gone through years of practice, die hard determination, training and experience to get where we are now.

I understand times are hard, and by many art may seem like a luxury, and I have to confess that I sometimes see it that way myself. But if you are asking some one to work for you, you are asking them to work for you. And in the art world or outside it, I think that is something every sector has to appreciate.

I, Object.

If you have read a couple of my other posts, or know me in general, you will probably know me to be an ill-informed feminist.

The Pornification of Britain's high street:
why enough is enough.

By this I mean, I am proud to call myself a feminist, there are still issues that effect women today, I will not stand for injustice and I know when I am being discriminated against for my gender and looks. Having said all this, I am not up to date on the latest arguments, and I often don't feel confident enough in my knowledge to sit here and write about  the ins and outs of feminist topics.

This doesn't mean I don't have an opinion, and I am of the belief that keeping quiet on something you believe in doesn't do the fight any good, so here we go, I'm about to loose my feminist article virginity.

Take a look at these two screen shots...

30 Ugly Celebrities without make up.
When will we say enough is enough on that?

They are both screen shots of an article posted on the guardian website titled 'The pornification of Britain's high street: why enough is enough.'  The article is great and raises some very relevant points. The kind of points I normally shy away from making myself although whole heartedly support.

In many ways this is not a post in direct response to this article, let me draw your attention to the second screen shot.  This is of the extra 'related links' at the bottom of that very same FEMINIST article.

In the second row, second picture along you will notice one of the suggested links is '30 ugly celebrities without make-up.' And it is THIS that I HAVE to write about.

There are many big battle to fight, the pornification of our high street being one of them. Flaunting naked bodies of women across newspapers, t-shirts, cereal boxes, of course teaches us all that women like myself are nothing more than objects. It's disgusting, it is blatant, it is a problem, but lets look at this suggested link. It is less obvious in it's objectification of women, as it is directed at female readers, it may even be classed as confidence boosting. Perhaps they could even argue that it highlights the fake and dangerous portrayal of beauty in the media by removing the 'air brush' factor. But what else does it tell us?

That even though you have 'made' it, even though you may be incredibly talented and successful in your field, it can all be undermined at the drop of a hat, or rather, the snap of a camera flash, if you don't look your best all the time.

Sorry love but who cares that you're an incredible actress and you have been rehearsing for 3 months straight? Who cares that you have the voice of an angel and have been touring and performing in front of millions every night for the past week? You need to sort out your priorities and find the time to go buy yourself a decent foundation.

If your face doesn't fit...

As a young woman trying to make it in business and the arts I am aware that I am my own product. People have to be impressed by my skills, warm to my personality and undeniably on some level my face has to fit. I am aware of this, and I often spend as much time deliberating over what outfit to wear as to what props to pack, and I will be applying my make up whilst running lines. I like to make the effort, present myself in the best possible light, show that I have taken this seriously and that I value first impressions. Plus, looking good helps me feel more confident.

Similarly I expect just as much from who ever it is that I am meeting. If I turn up for lunch to discuss my next project and the person hasn't washed, well quite frankly, I am going to question their dedication.

That is a harsh fact about the vanity culture we live in. However, I would also like to believe, that if I am having a bad hair day, and don't look my 100% best then my skills and personality will pick up the short fall. After all, that is what people should, and will focus on.

Unfortunately, this isn't, evidently, what the media focuses on. And while these 'celebs with out make up' pieces are aimed at boosting female confidence, are frivolous, cheap reads, and admittedly entertaining and addictive, they are also a fight for feminism to take on. And quite frankly I am disappointed and appalled that after such a wonderful article about feminism and fighting gender inequalities, The Guardian completely undermined the piece, by 'suggesting' an article, that equally objectifies women. This is a grass roots battle, one that doesn't involve a law change, one that we can fight peacefully, I refused to click on that suggested article.

In the eyes of the media, I may only be a pretty face, but I, object. x

Come, admire my plumahge...

In the wild, animals and birds display their plumahge (pronounced ploo-marge I made that word up) to attract a mate. It is as simple as that.

It is also normally the males that put on a show.

I can’t help but think that the simplicity of this mating ritual has its fair share of perks. Basically a guy shows all his goods and you can decide there and then ‘nah, sorry mate that’s not for me..’ or ‘yeah, go on then...’

However, there are certain instances where human mating rituals aren't all that more advanced.

Enter the primitive perv, here’s plumahge-ing at you babe...

Now, I walk home from Zumba on a regular basis. It is about a thirty minute walk, and it involves two main roads and the city center.   Let me paint the picture for you. The most comfortable jogging bottoms I could find rolled up to my knees, a black vest top with a sports bra underneath, all modestly covered with a grey hoodie I stole from my sisters wardrobe, and most importantly of all... I am dripping in sweat.

In this thirty minute sweat-strut I get checked out more than the rest of the week put together. I also never knew what it meant to be ‘hollered at’ until I started this walk.

Perhaps the reasons for this are simple science, a healthy glow and an interest in fitness is bound to be attractive to members of the opposite sex, after all, supposedly deep down we’re all searching for the other half of a perfect baby making machine.

What is truly baffling to me is the way these ‘suitors’ decide to indicate their attraction in an equally as primitive manner. Normally by staring me right in the face and letting out a sound I can only describe as ‘ooooooosssshhh’ that or some sort of line they have picked up from the latest gangster rap.

Now, excuse me while I fetch a ladder to climb up on to my high feminist horse.

THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. It’s intimidating, it’s inappropriate and also... ineffective.

Ok, may have fallen off my horse on that last one, however, there are many other feminists out there who can argue the other points far stronger than I can,and I fully support and applaud them for that.  Unfortunately my mind jumps straight to ‘Really, you think that is going to work?’

Sorry men of Manchester but you seriously need to work on your plumahge!

Now, on my latest sweat strut, I was pondering on this and was just checking my reflection for wayward sweat patches, thinking to myself, really, why don’t they just try words and a smile when...

‘Excuse me... girl in the grey jumper!’

I stopped, checked the ground thinking I must have dropped something when the young gentleman who had requested my attention went on to say...

‘Sorry but you keep looking at your reflection as your walking along, you don’t need to, you look good’

Completely dead pan. I was speechless.

I sort of went ‘HA, errrr, thanks?’ and walked off as quick as possible.

What the hell do I make of that?  Part of me is really angry at him. I didn't ask for his opinion and now I’m even more tempted to look at my reflection but can’t cos you've actually made me more self-conscious about that than I was about the sweat patches. So yeah, thanks for that, but part of me thinks, well thanks, it was meant as a compliment, he obviously picked up on me being self conscious and maybe just thought he could save the world from yet another insecure girl.

He also didn't expect anything to come from it. He carried on his conversation with his friend and let me sweat-scutter off.

That was perhaps the most unnerving of all.

Thank god normally our mating rituals involve ‘wait to text’ games and countless ‘do you think he likes me’ glasses of wine.
x

I'm weighting for something...

Whether or not you are bothered by your weight, should be a very personal problem, but isn't it funny that worrying about our weight very rarely has any thing to do with how you personally feel?

At least not in the first place. Worrying about your weight is usually triggered by somebody else.

A friend much smaller than you complaining about how fat she feels translates to well how fat must she think I am?

A dress that looks great on a friend doesn't fit you.

Your mum starts dieting, oh maybe I should start watching what I eat?

This is all in response to a post written by a friend of a friend. A girl who I have never met, who apparently is experiencing these exact same feelings. Isn't THAT odd, other people, other GIRLS also worrying about their weight?  You can read that post here.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I can solve anyone's insecurities, any more than I know the answer to what to do in a quarter life crisis but I do think that the more we read and remember that an obsession with skinniness isn't healthy and that our fat rolls are probably due to an overactive imagination rather than one too many nights out the more likely we are to stay sane.

And happy. Sane and happy.

So time to get personal once more (I know, I know this is meant to be theatre blog, but I promise all this is due to me thinking about Love Letters...)...

I have always seen myself as 'soft around the edges...' Since the age of about 14 I have been a size 12.  At age 16 size 12 felt huge, and I remember a boyfriend at the time saying to me, when I was whinging about my weight that actually I was a bit chubbier than normal girls.

I know great boyfriend right?

Safe to say that has always stuck with me.  Ever since I've thought I'm 'just that bit bigger...'

Now as I have mentioned in a couple of earlier posts, this past year I have put a fair chunk of weight on. Not just in my mind, but as a number on the scales too. So here is the puzzler... I am still a size 12.

I look back at picture of myself at uni, when I was under 10 stone, and think WHAT THE HELL WAS I SEEING! I wasn't stick thin, but I certainly wasn't 'bigger than normal.' I had a great figure, I am lucky to have a tiny waist, and have curves.

Then I looked back at pictures of myself before I moved to Manchester.  I was about half a stone heavier, and at the time that felt HUGE.  But again, I look back at the pictures, and if anything, I look better for it, like I had grown up just the right amount after uni.

I look at myself now, recently I have lost a bit of weight, but I'm still not back where I was before Manchester, and certainly not where I was at uni. Some days I feel huge. I will sit down and it is as if my belly is expanding on the spot getting bigger and bigger, eating nothing but my good mood up.

Does it matter that actually I am STILL a size 12? No.
Does it matter that I am fitter than I have ever been in my life? No.

What does matter?
That a friend has lost a lot of weight, and now regularly says she would hate to be any bigger? My Heads translation: I'd hate to be as big as you?

It shouldn't but it is enough to send any confidence I woke up with running.

The fact is that when it comes to looking at ourselves we are always seeing a reflection from some kind of nightmare fun house filled with, perhaps genuinely, crazy mirrors.

And then there is the flip side of it.

Just as I am seeing a distorted version of myself, my now very slender friend is also still seeing a distorted image. And I think that is perhaps even scarier. That we may never get a real perspective of where we are now, we are constantly looking at where we used to be, or where we want to be.

Flip it over again, and there's the compliments that all to frequently fall on deaf ears.

Last weekend I headed down to London.  Since I was last there I have lost no weight whatsoever and was just beginning to think 'yeah, I really need to get on that...' One of the first things a friend said to me?

'You've lost weight!' which was then repeated later on when I changed to go out 'You've really trimmed down' which was met by another friend 'She's always been tiny, I wouldn't say she ever had any weight to loose...'

Like I said, I don't know how to resolve my own insecurities or anyone else's, most of the time we don't believe something till we have seen it with our own eyes and even the healthiest most zen of my friends, have their days where their eyes deceive them. On those days all we can do is declare ourselves blind, and instead trust our ears, and hope that we hear things correctly.

Oh listen THAT was a compliment or perhaps more importantly...
THAT wasn't a dig or a reflection on you, that was a friend having their own bad day.

And if that isn't enough to cheer us up then lets all just take a moment to appreciate that somebody in the world thought things were getting a bit out of hand and decided to make a barbie doll with REAL average measurements.

Now pass me a cake, cos if Barbie can now function in the real world, I can too!
x

15 ways to peel a banana that will change your life...

I have trouble sleeping, for various reasons, one of them is that I'm in my twenties but more on that soon.  When I have trouble sleeping, like I am guessing the majority of people who have had the misfortune of owning a smart phone, I end up trailing the internet for useless things to read. Particuarly on Buzzfeed.

Most of the posts on there are things like '20 Racoons who look like they were from that tv series from the 90's' or '101 goldfish having a worse day than you'  However, this post here, which was actually sent to me by a friend, is pure TRUTH.

Scary kind of truth. The kind of truth the internet was probably originally built for.

That's right, 10 signs you are having a Quarter Life Crisis, I was not prepared for you.

I am in my early twenties, as are the majority of my friends (go figure). However, a friend in her 30's said she couldn't remember what it was like to be my age, my reply?

It is worse than being a teenager.

Every week a new friend falls into their quarter life crisis. Every week I get a phone call from a different friend, who essentially, woke up that morning, looked at the day ahead and went 'What the HELL is this???'

I think the difficulty can be pinned down to the overwhelming feeling that we should have SOMETHING worked out by now. But not a single one of us does, and not only that but everytime we think we are about to grasp an idea of what we want to do with our life, who we want to grow up to be, it presents more questions than answers.

How are you going to go about that?
Shouldn't you have done a different degree for that?
You've never mentioned this before?
What will your parents think?
What about that flat you want?
Why are you even going traveling?

I've been told more than once by a Friend of mine, lets call him Y, that I am very lucky because I know what I want to do with my life. Yeah, I said, I am, but knowing what I want to do with my life, has presented a whole range of other unknowns. Will I ever be able to afford a flat of my own? Wouldn't it be nice to only work 9-5?  Is it easier to want the simple things in life, job, car, holiday once a year?

Where as Y is trapped between knowing that he loves his work life balance, having a nice flat and all that, but also doesn't really like his job, and finds it difficult to imagine a job that he would like. And what if, he finds a job that he likes, but it starts eating into his leisure time? For Y, there is a clean definition between work and life, for me obviously, there isn't. The reason I know what I want to do with my life is because I can't imagine my life without it.

But when I meet with friends that have a more 'normal' route mapped out? I am VERY jealous, I don't have the same milestones as they do, and so when I compare myself to them (which we all do) I ultimately feel like I am failing.

So maybe I do have something figured out, what I want to do, and maybe that is half the battle but the other half of the battle, is how do I get there? And how do I tie up all those other loose strings along the way?

Today is Friday, 7 days ago it was Friday, and in 7 days time, it will be Friday again. Does time really go that quickly? it never seemed to do at uni? And how come my to do list and my list of seemingly life challenging questions grows twice as fast?

I don't know the answers to any of the above questions. Being in my twenties is keeping me up at night.

Luckily though buzzfeed is here to distract me from my panic attacks.

Ooooo look, 15 ways to peel a banana, that are bound to change my life.
x

Insert more imaginative title here

So this is the first draft of a blog I am working on for another site, this is the more personal opinion version! Enjoy... 

Sat staring at a blank computer screen, at a desk in an office, it is hard to believe that it’s my imagination that got me here.  But then I don’t work in your normal day to day office and I don’t have a normal job.

In fact my job is almost entirely make believe.

I should explain, I’m a performer, a story teller, a writer and generally creative. With this in mind then you would assume that I am one of those people who just loves to post an inspiring quote on my Facebook wall, often super imposed over a beautiful sunset. Well I’m not. In fact most of the time I would argue that Facebook is the last place you should be looking for inspiration but when my mind drew a blank, that’s where I headed, and there was Einstein staring back at me telling me:

Einstein, he like totally knew his stuff yeah?

‘Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand while imagination embraces the entire world and all there ever will be to understand.’

And, who am I to disagree with a genius?

As a story teller I obviously work with children a lot. They have even bigger imaginations than me most of the time, but the biggest challenge I often face is getting them to release it! At a children’s festival last year I asked a little girl, if she could live in the world of make believe what would she do?

Her answer?

Sit and watch TV all day and never have to turn her iPod off at bed time. My heart broke a little. I’m not about to start a rant about the youth of today, because this little girl still had her imagination. In fact she used it regularly to make sure she didn’t have to turn her iPod off at bed time in the real world either.

‘But Mum, I’m listening to the bible!’

Nor, am I advocating the use of the imagination to tell great big whopping fibs either.

I do think though that we forget the importance of something as simple as storytelling.

To paraphrase another inspirational quote:  Behind every great person there is a great story, a story that was probably inspired by another great story.

Stories and the imagination are everywhere. They are what drive us to explore and find out, it’s what made Colombo set off sailing and what keeps astronauts sane on the space station.  Stories tell us what happened in the past and how to behave in the future, they help us understand other cultures, they introduce us to love, life and death, and most of all they make us, us.

One can only dream, that one day my something I say
will be as inspirational as this sunset.

Now I don’t have a whole bunch of statistics to back up the importance of storytelling, of which I am sure there are many, but then I’m not in the business of facts. I’m in the business of make believe and in my eyes, stories are important for children and big kids alike, because they are what makes this very real world make sense.

But I don’t think that’s catchy enough to print over a picture of a sunset.

Stephanie Claire runs Teacup Theatre and Storytelling Workshops at Chorlton’s Jellyfish Rooms Sunday 12-2pm, find out more at www.teacuptheatre.com

I've been thinking a lot about inspiration...

Lately, I seem to get IDEAS every other second of the day, and the pages of my notebook are filling up pretty quick at the moment.

I get times like this, the complete opposite of Writers Block (which I'm yet to experience fully).  I love times like this, except when I can't find a pen, and at this rate I am full of excitement over my next show (November time).

So I thought I would share the first burst of inspiration with you, which came during the wonderful Women In The Spotlight workshops at The Three Minute Theatre last month. this piece will be the base of my next piece, right now I'm not sure how, but I have a feeling in my tummy...

Heartbreak, happiness, seclusion, haziness, the feeling that there is something to be discovered, on the verge of something, something out of reach, something snatched away, reluctance, overlapping. Confusion, perfection, fennel coleslaw, is this a story that I want to tell? I'm treading a line, brushing past a shrub I've always thought of as being covered in honey suckle, I want it to shelter me, to fall backwards, to discover something new that I know must be there. Instead it ushers me to the other, the memory I am trying to to forget because I was sure there was something to be discovered there too, but there wasn't.

I do not want to tell this story, but I don't think I will eat fennel coleslaw again...

That's all I'm gonna give you for now, but if you would like to find out more about Love Letters and Other Pointless Scribbles, or even get involved, then have a look here.

Stephanie x