One of the things I have always enjoyed about being an English teacher is a film study. Through film you explore, among other things, this essential tenet of existence: the world is full of only what people actually want to present to you. A director puts only what they actually want you to see on the screen. There are many cogs in the cinema machine that are chosen for interpretation. That vase? Props manager. Those shoes? Costume guy. Savage’s ‘Swing’ raging in the club before Heigl and Rogan pound it out? Music department. All of these loose threads have been given the go ahead to become intricate fibres of the director’s overall master weave. Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande, Disney/Pixar animation ‘Easter Eggs’ have shown this time and time again and fans love to theorise about the deeper significance of said ‘Eggs’.
Social media is this. You post to project what of ‘You’ you want to be seen. This is not a new concept and I’m not going to debase my intelligence here by reiterating and rehashing that which we already know and talk about. If you don’t know what I’m talking about – 1. Where have you been for the past ten years? 2. Get woke, Scully.
I just need you to know that world is full of careful constructs from each and every person. Including you. Including me. Enter Back to Five.
I posted a first blog post. I posted a Set Up, An Introduction. I let anyone reading know what I wanted them to know. It was easier than having a conversation. I wouldn’t get distracted by movements of the world that were more interesting than my voice, and whatever it was droning on about. A blog post meant that I could plot and craft and plan what I needed you to see, in order for my blog to have resonance.
I liked the response. The layers of myself that I have shown people will lead most to think I liked the massage of ego. If that’s where you place a full stop on me, cool. I must say I was surprised by the reaction of some to my seemingly overt vulnerability. It was a bit Five Year Old Ashleigh tb quite h. I didn’t set out to create intimate honesty; it just happened. I was comfortable showing you that facet of this diamond, so I showed it. This post has such a lead up about what people allow you to see because of this.
I actually liked the audience response for its reaction to my freedom and ease of expression. Back to Five is about reliving the freedom of expression we knew in our infancy and never had to question because it was our simple state of being.
Also, it is about the fact that I knew I was moving and I wanted to find a way to explain my need for change. As I write this now, perhaps I only needed to explain it to myself and I let you dirty creatures turn into voyeurs. Side note: Can you call your reader a dirty creature? Meh. Peasant/ dirty creature – it’s all affection. And you love it.
Anyway, I have moved.
I am in a different space now. It doesn’t matter where. All it means is that I knew that nothing could happen until something changed, and so I made the something my location. I have been here for 2 weeks today. Since then, I have been paid for 1 hour of work. Huzzah! The work? The same. Am I still ambivalent about it? Yes.
But do I feel one step closer to Mariah Dancing than I did before? Yep. Defs. I’m still a part of a team that empowers and supports me, and my penchant for improvising theme tunes for simple daily errands; this team is in a new location, without a cat. Shout out to Teams, I say. You are all the real MVPs. xx
I also feel proud of myself for having a Back to Five-esque moment of clarity when I realised I could say, “No” to things. Did I Pearl all Summer for this? No. Thank-you. Goodbye.
So I re-cap: “The challenge I accept for 2019 is: How will I balance the reality of employment and income with the free naiveté of Mariah Dancing?” Lol, I just quoted myself.
But in seriousness tho, I have the reality of the same employment and I have positioned myself to enjoy the free naiveté of being the New Girl In Town. It’s a start at least. My key skills are being utilised. That’ll do, pig.
Notes on a New Location could read like this though:
I must remember the closing time of the supermarket. Although, I require very little as I packed it all. Except for razors.
When you say, “‘Cos I wanted to,” in answer to questions about why you’re here, people almost want to lift your skirt to see how big your balls are.
One person who thinks having no friends in town is sad and tragic doesn’t quite know what that looks like. Eg. I went to a bar by myself for Quiz Night to see if any teams of people I don’t know want a person. ‘Cos I wanted to. I found 2 friends. We took a humble yet tequila approach to answering. The sad tragedy was when our team came 6th out of 6 teams on a score of 16 out of 40. Quelle sad, quelle tragique, te-te-Tequila!
I am cognisant of the fact that the last time I left my high school, I moved away and the parts I enjoyed the most were gorgeous scenery and the anonymity. That pattern is repeating. You gotta recognise the cyclic. I’ll find out more about this observation later I suppose.
And so I finish this now, with about three quarters of what I imagined I was going to write. It’s funny how you think of excellent stuff in the shower, and all for the lack of the pen it never takes form on a page or pixel. Looking at this now, I think I’m giving you something that sounds like a passive aggressive diary entry, when really it is mean to be a blogular update of some moving and shaking that I have managed in a month. That’s cool. Feel free to use blogular – I just invented that.
I also understand that I haven’t managed to fit in any pearl punnery on this ride. Sorry for the inconvenience.
There’s plenty more blog posts for that type of shuckery, I reckon.