Katie my friend, I write this introductory paragraph to you: I broke down. I'm sorry. I hope your respect for me does not waiver. I've missed a written dialogue, something neither of us seems to have time enough for these days, and seeing as how I will be needing to stay in touch with a great many people in six months time I figured this will be a better way to do it than mass e-mails every few months. And let's be honest: it was going to happen eventually anyway.
Today I found out I was accepted to Central School of Speech and Drama. For those of you who don't know, this school is the alma mater of the likes of Judi Dench, Rufus Sewell, Harold Pinter, Gael Garcia Bernal, and of course one of my all time favorites: Laurence Olivier. If you want a whole list, check them out here. The course is the MA in Advanced Theatre Practice, focus on Performance (I also auditioned for the Classical Acting Course, and am currently waiting for the rejection letter from that program--never in my life have I been less articulate. Ever.). It's a year long, pretty intense looking, and also:
It's in London.
So come October, after being half of a pair of Maids of Honor for my childhood best friend's wedding, I'm moving. It's been a dream since forever, to study in London, to move to London, to run away and potentially never come back, and the actuality of it is both shocking and gratifying. How often do you get what you really want? Seriously? There's a discussion to be had there, the fear that comes with actually attaining a desire, but let's forget about it right now. Something tells me it'll come up eventually.
The reason for this blog is to, as my friend Dani has done, make a place to share with friends who are far far away any notable happenings that one might share at a dinner party...if said friends were in a close enough vicinity to come to a dinner party. So, my loves: these are letters to all of you, with less of a lag than the snail post of old and without the cost of postage--which can add up, given the overseas aspect.
Rabbiting, for those not familiar, is a term that means to talk incessantly (or so says my Trainspotting glossary, and I'll take it). I tend to do this generally, so I figured it was an appropriate description of what was going on here. I'll try to keep myself (read: my personal life) out of this forum, as that's the first thing that's always been my biggest argument against blogging and source of much hatred for bloggers in general, but I've never claimed to not be hypocrite and I'll probably slip up every once in a while. I'm not better than anybody else. And if I hate myself because of these occasional wanderings in subject matter, no matter. I am an actor: self-loathing is usually required.
So here we go my friends. Here we go...
