Friday, September 10, 2010

Beethoven in a beach hut

I am having a massive life crisis. Not that I have a massive life and this is the crisis. It's not the size equivalent of a mid-life crisis. And I seriously hope it's not a mid-life crisis because I definitely don't want to die at the age of 46. I am a big fan of old people and I hope to be an excellent one in a few decades.

My crisis revolves around all the pressure that gets lumped on you between the ages of 16 and 25 to choose what you want to do with your life and make very good choices to get yourself there. It's like being a piece of rock under lots more rock. Only there are bigger rocks yelling at you to be the best rock. And rocky you is thinking 'Well, how do I know if I'd rather be igneous or sedimentary?' and the big rocks are yelling 'YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE IGNEOUS - EVER SINCE YOU WERE A PEBBLE' and you're thinking in your rocky head 'True, and I still would. But do I have to do it all now? I had no idea there was even the possibility of just being sand or maybe even glass so I could look into that for a few years whilst still keeping a bit of my mind in the Igneous stream but if it doesn't happen right away is that the end of the world?'. And the bigger rocks are saying you'll regret it if you don't stick at it and they might be right but the temptation to just dabble in being a bit of lava for a while is pretty huge and the trouble is that once you're igneous you can never really go back to before - it's just it forever.

And you thought life was simple for rocks. I tell you it isn't.

So the problem is that I am dying to go back to Lapland. Absolutely dying. And I can't go. I can't go because it would involve quitting my job, pausing comedy for another few months while I am out of London and not booking and going rusty again. But a big part of my head is asking why the hell I'm tying myself to comedy anyway? I'm pretty young in comedy terms, would it being a nice slow process really be such a bad thing? Will I get anywhere anyway? Wouldn't tonnes more Lapland material be a good thing? Wouldn't seeing the world give me a much better perspective on comedy? ARGH!

To top it all off I got offered a different job this week. They want to pay me a lot more to do the job I already do. I turned it down because I'm more interested in keeping a job with lovely people than havign the money. But this caused another rock style head debate where I thought - well, hang on. If the day job is just to support comedy then surely a hell of a lot more money is the best option? Why are you turning that down in favour of a day job you prefer? Curious. I'm sure my life isn't as complicated as the life of a rock but it is a lot to think about.

Poor rocks. And we thought the worst thing that happened to them was an irate camper furiously smashing tent pegs into their heads as they while away the hours on a campsite. And then the damn camper has the cheek to be furious at the rock for being there. Where else would you expect to find a rock? Where exactly would you like them to go camper? Would you rather you had a really easy time putting your tent up and then came home to find all the rocks in your bath? Well. I wouldn't.

I particularly like it at craft fayres when you find people who have adopted rocks and stuck goggly eyes on them and painted them in to things. These are terrifically useless items that no one has any use for, they don't look great but they are cute in a painted rock with goggly eyes sort of way. It would be the sort of thing the Dragon's Den would laugh out of the room and yet year after year they sell for £s at school fetes and church halls all across the countryside.

Maybe if it all goes terribly wrong for me with my life choices debate I'll just set up a stall selling those? Right in Canary Wharf. And bankers will walk past, look sneeringly at my stall and judge me. Then, they'd go to walk away and find that something was plucking at their heart strings...and it would be me. I'd be murdering them with tweezers. And then I'd get arrested and go to jail and teach classes on how to make rock people. My classes would be so popular I'd get promoted and allowed to look after the library. Then I'd get let out early for good behaviour and write a comedy show about my time in prison. I'd win the newcomer award and my comedy career would be failsafe.

Foolproof. Screw you big rocks. This pebble has foundations.


  1. I don't want to die at 46 either, but I feel it more keenly since it was my 46th birthday on Wednesday. And none of my sub-5'6" friends turned up. I got bitter. Three pints of bitter in fact, all paid for by the over-5'6"ers who did show up, so there.

    When the pressure gets too much, you could just get stoned. That was terrible. Sorry.

  2. Go back to Lapland and take me with you! I probs can't pass as a reindeer (which btw I bet ur happy you found out were real long before you had to actualy meet one!) but I can pull of a winter sloth look! santa likes sloths riiight? failing that a llama wearing antlers. that i can do :)

    lovels skware x

  3. Oh laura my dear. I have something to cheer you up though! Something that I considered to be local news has reached the metro! A prize winning cake was stolen from Enfield town fair last week, leaving the 16 year old baker in tears! (I can't believe that, what a pathetic wuss)They still haven't found the culprit but I assume the trail of evidence was easy to hide. Nom nom nom....

  4. Come back to Lapland!I have only said this 1000 times. Anyway you know what you are doing. But i'll miss you and you know that.

    I figure that when I die and everyone is sitting in the waiting room for ...wherever you go to next...that I'd rather tell them all about working for Santa and seeing the Northern Lights and going to work on a snowmobile than I would tell them about a grown up job that I probably will never have.