Well. Here we go. Blog one, as in I have never written a blog before. So lets start with an introduction shall we? Me first. My name is Gemma Whiteley. I identify myself as an actor which means I'm a bartender. I also write, often prompted by being unemployed as an actor. Bear with me, this will be upbeat, I promise. Well, lets say I'm saving all the laughs for blog two. Whilst on my way home from work, feeling all disappointed in myself, it suddenly occurred to me that I have this very distinct persona. A persona I feel I gravely let down today. From childhood, I have been laden with comments from friends and teachers and family such as "she's very mature", "A very together and sensible young lady" and "reliable" "trustworthy" "grown up". Well now I am indeed a grown up. I live away from home. I pay rent. I have a car thats insured and, as of a couple of hours ago has a full tank of petrol. That said, I'm seriously considering asking my mother, who lives one hundred and twelve miles away if she could ring me on a morning to make sure I'm up for work. This morning I started work at nine o'clock. Only I didn't. I slept in. I mean I royally slept in, by three hours. At eleven forty I was woken by a call from my boss. Shit. I apologised, and apologised again. And then again. Oh, and its not the first time this has happened. I'm a deep sleeper, okay. Lets fill in this picture. I work in a bar. Half of my week I work late and often get home at one or two in the morning. The other half of the week I work early, either starting at nine in the morning or at midday. Ive been doing this on and off for nearly five years. Poor me, well, lots of people work similar, unsociable hours. They handle it. They get there. Today I didn't. Yesterday however, I did get there and clocked off at five just like Dolly Parton. I even did lots of work in between. Go me! Today when I arrived, it was cool. My colleagues were cool with it, even my boss was nice to me, I was welcomed and it was initially laughed off. But it was not the first time. The head chef commented that "I needed a hug" "I looked under the weather" and my boss asked me if I "needed a minute" an offer I quickly dismissed. I wanted to make the coffees, serve the customers and maybe have the ground swallow me up. The chef had informed my boss that I was called back into work late the evening before and that I had been feeling ill. I had a cold. Season changes and all that. All this may explain my morning mess up. It's very plausible and all true. But it wasn't the first time. Maybe my cold is irrelevant, maybe me going back to work on my evening off is irrelevant. Perhaps the fact that I have been struggling with severe acne recently, as a result have stopped exercising, haven't had a professional acting job for a whole year, when I'm not working I'm setting up my own theatre company on my own and trying to write a play, perhaps those do have something to do with it. That feeling of trying desperately to run through water every time I apply for a job, the gut wrenching, soul destroying disappointment when I don't get it, actually might be causing my ever reliable, sturdy persona to crumble just a touch. Or as icky as it feels to admit (and it shouldn't) it could just be that its about time I spoke to a doctor about it. And I bet I'm not the only one.
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AuthorI'm an actor and writer living in Manchester. I have a lot to say. Archives
November 2018
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