Sunday, 2 August
Actual diary entry:
I’m sitting in my little rented box room, on my rented bed, filling time. The song “Lemon Tree” comes to mind… I’m lying here and there is nothing that I want to do. No-one’s company I particularly desire to be in, just staring at my little rented window…
I still have a sore throat, even after all those Tamiflu drugs. I’m taking the last one tonight, so hopefully my body can now heal itself. After LOTS of deliberation and research I’ve finally made a booking with a chiropractor. I settled on a guy based in Harrow who started out with a science degree and then went on to get his chiropractic qualification. I didn’t go with Ara’s chiropractor after checking out their website, hearing that she had to go back weekly and pay a lot for it. I’m going tomorrow for my first consultation; I’ll see what I feel like when I walk in. If he’s a strange guy who makes his patients strip, then I shall be leaving. If I get a weird vibe, I’ll leave; but I’m hoping that my feeling on this is right and that all will be well and the pain in my spine can disappear for a while again.
Hmmm, I could go and get some boxes to start organising myself in case the housemates do hand in notice this month. Thinking about it, I really have accumulated too much stuff. It’s going to be a mission to transport it all. Right, I don’t want to think about that anymore. I can hear my room-neighbour and Dee chatting in Afrikaans, on SKYPE, to someone; I think it may be Martha’s mother. Her friend Dee moved into the room downstairs yesterday, and Ara moved upstairs to NT and Marie’s old room. I have no idea what happened the other guy who was supposed to move in. Shame, they must have been short of the extra rental for a while now. At least I’m not part of all the bill calculations. That must be quite stressful. Hmmm, maybe she’s speaking to her sister and her Mom on SKYPE, they speak so quickly in Afrikaans.
Do you have those mornings where you just lie in bed, havened by your duvet with no inclination to move? I like these choice days every now and then, they are precisely what the doctor would order: permission to be lazy.
Whilst being sick and stuck in the house I watched Elvis Presley’s Biography on DSTV. I decided my favourite Elvis song is: Return to Sender, because he genuinely smiles the whole way through the music video and looks like he is having so much fun. Like Michael Jackson, Elvis was also a religious man and a man with big dreams. Nelson Mandela, Mother Teresa and Gandhi, all people with dreams of a better world and a happier place. They are all people whose success stories have involved really sad moments too, heart-wrenchingly sad moments. If I look at my reaction to the Elvis biography I wonder: “What is wrong with me?” This is Elvis, Shannan, he was famous, had millions, so what that it didn’t end in a good place, so what that he had tough times, we all do. Even so, the biography made me tearful. I haven’t managed to figure out why I’m reacting so strongly and emotionally to things all the time these days. It’s very frustrating. Everyone else manages to get by without feeling passionately about much. I’ve met loads of people all over the world who are quite happy living outside of their emotional zones. They are quite happy coasting along in their jobs, having chit chat conversations, and quite honestly couldn’t care what misery Elvis or Michael Jackson or Gandhi lived through, but I can’t seem to do that. Frustrating.
I used to think that my high levels of empathy were great for being an actress, so I could take on any character by using base emotions. I used to think that I could be a playwright or a novelist, a poet and songwriter and turn stress into something creative and positive. Now, after being here and not really achieving much thus far I find my faith waning. I’m now thinking: “I came, I tried, I don’t know what else to do, so I may as well move back home and settle down.” Maybe I set the bar too high and dreamed too many dreams; maybe I’m not going to be able to focus and achieve what I set out to… maybe.
This is so difficult, why have I put myself here? I know that there are no right answers to life, that it is a process of creation everyday. I know that everything anyone sees, anything I see, is a matter of perspective. I know that so many people before me have had their dreams come true. I know that acting and writing and doing what I love is possible, but there is so much admin and effort and difficulty involved.
If I look at myself honestly, I often don’t understand myself or why I have to go and do things; like chase a dream to act and travel. I know I have faith that I’m where I’m supposed to be, but I don’t feel like I’m achieving anything worthwhile. What’s missing? What should I be doing that I am not doing? Where’s the door that I should be knocking on; and will it open like we are told it will? Lord I’m sorry to question and doubt, and I know I shouldn’t, simply because it would be hypocritical for a person of faith to worry, but I’m not where I thought I would be and nothing has turned out like I expected. Lord please take my hand and help me through this, because I can’t do all this on my own, I don’t have the answers, You do.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
Tuesday, 4 August
My Star Sign reading for the day: “All in good time Aquarius. You’re more patient than a lot of signs, but no one would deny that on this occasion you’ve been enduring quite a wait. Think about it though. What use is complaining going to do, when it’s something that is out of your hands? Continue as you have been, by distracting yourself until the endgame.”
I had to laugh after my diary entry this weekend; how long do I need to distract myself for exactly? What’s the time span for: “All in good time” anyway? I guess I had better stop complaining and just get on with it; after all I did chose to be here and do this, no point in going backwards now. I cheered myself up with a delicious roast dinner. Amen!