They say every cloud has a silver lining. It is also true that every shiny, glittery silver lining has a cloud lurking beneath it.
I’m taken back to a blog I wrote a few months ago when my bloke was on his last tour. I had a few short weeks until he was back again and was bemoaning this odd industry of ours where we pack our chaps off in an unnatural test of monogamy. And now my fella and I have received some fabulous news. Truly fabulous. I do mean that. I could not be more psyched or be prouder or happier or more delighted for our future selves. What’s that you say? You don’t believe me? My smile looks forced? That would be the tell-tale jaw clench drama school voice coaches tried to drill out of me. Ah, sod it. I’m not that good an actress. Though I’m delighted for our future selves my present self has become a swoony, sulky, ‘can’t live without you’ teenage type: My boy got a gig touring the States.
It’s a huge break for him; the venues look immense, the project is something he’s passionate about and when he returns he will have enough pennies to put down a deposit and that. Suddenly we have a very real possibility of getting on the property ladder and we won’t have to knock off any wealthy second cousins to do so. But…. I won’t see him for a year. Twelve months. 52 weeks. 365 days. Oh, sorry, shut my mouth. There are three days in November he may stop by whilst I’m in the Highlands of Scotland playing Nurse to Juliet. I’ll fit in our relationship between the Get-In and the Fight Call.
Now don’t get me wrong, there’s a very real chance this blog could sound ungrateful or resentful. I don’t mean it to do so. I am very aware that the last thing any actor wants to hear is another actor moaning about a job offer when the competition is so high. But let’s clarify this: I am ecstatic that I am touring and employed. It’s the fact that HE is that’s irking me.
Me off gadding about doing my own thing, rocking some Shakespeare with a cast that have already proved themselves as banteriffic = great. My fella having his own life and career and not being at my beck and call and accommodating our relationship around my rehearsal schedule= less great. Sacrifices, sacrifices. Selfishness, selfishness…
At the moment every time he does something vaguely sweet for me, like… put the kettle on for example… the lower lip starts trembling and I burst in to tears like a hormonal pregnant woman at a petting zoo.
Barring the stompy little Madame behaviour, I am genuinely incredibly grateful for the opportunities that have recently presented themselves. In the long term I really do logically know that everything that is happening- my year of touring, his year abroad, will benefit us in the grand scheme of things. What scares me is the prospect that whilst we’re working so hard for the future, the present may escape us and I’m petrified of the difference a year may make.
I’ve always thought of these ramblings as a bit of a ‘headsup’ to those entering the industry; for you guys joining us in this profession to get a sense of the highs and lows. And how choosing a career which doesn’t fit neatly between the hours of 9 - 5 has its very peculiar complications and considerations. Well, this is one of those considerations. I’ll let you know how we get on.
Does anyone know how to work Skype?
