Methinks I have too much pent-up aggression...

Now, I'm not a violent person. At all. I've hit people out of anger perhaps twice in my life, and neither time did I do it intentionally. But sometimes, today, for example, I'm overtaken by this desire, nay...a need, to actually grab someone and smash their face in. If anything, I almost seem to want to pick fights with people. But why?

Back to today: My girlfriend and I were down in Balad. Now, as much as I love that place, I hate the way people feel obligated to stare at any female walking around dressed in less than a full-body hazmat suit. And I fucking hate that. I hate the dirty, depraved, sleazy looks and off-hand comments people make. It just becomes a personal matter for me. My girlfriend says it doesn't bother her. Fair enough. She's a big girl and she can stand up for herself. But I still feel protective, and I still want to smash the teeth of any bastard who looks with anything less than respect. Is that so wrong?

Again, back in Amman, some little fucks from the neighbourhood decided to write "fuck" in the dust of my car's rear window. Why? What exactly did that achieve? Now, I'm actually sorry i didn't grab their individual faces and smash them into the bumper on general principle. But why the violence? why the pent-up aggression? I exercise, I have a pretty good career, a great girl who loves me and who I love back....why do I feel the need to physcially harm people who get on my nerves?

then again, are there not people in the world who deserve to be beaten up? I believe it finally comes down to a Jekyll-and-Hyde situation (or Me, Myself and Irene, if you will). Certain events push people over the edge sometimes...guess I'll have to wait and see what does that for me.

Woohoo! I'm on satellite TV!

Ok, so...not exactly. I've been dubbing a horrendously god-awful historical TV series into English, and I got a call a few days ago from the bloke who is the producer on the project, telling me to switch on to Saudi TV's channel 2 at around 2pm. I didn't get the call in time, but it was still cool to know that my work was being broadcast to three people and their pet cat somewhere in the world!

So, that was my first bit of international acclaim! My name up in lights! Hey, at least it's money in the bank.

Stressful as they come...


I don't think of myself as an alarmist. I don't think of myself as a cry-baby...well, actually, I do. But I'm also proud of the fact that I have enough professionalism to keep such matters under wraps as might affect the flow of my work, especially in the theatre context. However, following the events of today, I am forced to wonder how far someone can be pushed before they snap completely.

I shall begin, as it is always best to begin, at the very beginning: The morning!

So, my car has been in the shop for two days now for what was supposed to be a four hour job (Giligan's island, anyone?). This meant that I had to catch a ride to work with my dad. Again. And this time, he was driving at an infuriatingly slow pace, not quite getting the idea that the long circumspect way we were going to get past all the traffic meant he could make better time if he went faster due to the lighter traffic. Anyway, I got to work about ten minutes late, but it was ok, because nobody else had bothered to do anything anyway. So I went on my merry way.

The morning show was an utter cunt, thanks to an audience of apathetics, arseholes, and one teacher's choice to march all her students out of the theatre mid-performance, then march them all back in three minutes later. Cheers, bitch! Also, a special Up Yours goes to the gentleman who kept jangling his keys throughout the play. When I went backstage, fuming, my supervisor admonished me for letting it get to me. Gee, thanks, fuck-face. And what exactly did you do to help today? Or any day for that matter? Twat!

Day went further downhill when the car got delayed AGAIN, and when I finally managed to make it to Marka to pick the damn thing up, it still wasn't ready. I took my dad's car back to Amman and made it to my dubbing job three minutes before my call... a decent margin by any standard. The people knew that i had a window of an hour and 45 minutes to finish four scenes, then be on my way to rehearsals till 11pm. So instead of going straight into the studio, they decided to wait around for half an hour, then go into the studio, then take my scene partner out and do a different scene. By the time I had got to my second scene, it was already 7pm, and we spent the next half hour with my two scene partners fucking up so much, that we covered half a page of script. I got really livid, because I had to be out in ten minutes, and they wanted to finish the episode today, so I ended up dubbing three whole scenes on a seperate track (which means the other actors will be recorded at a later date).

I ran like hell, got to rehearsal, and spent the next three hours being yelled at by the director, and badgered by this cunt of an excuse for a human being who claims to be an actor.

Now, about the aforementioned person, I'd just like to say why he gets on my tits: Firstly, he's always late, which means he has zero commitment. He waltzes in fifteen minutes after the rest of the cast without so much as a "I'm sorry I'm late", then spends the rest of the rehearsal changing stuff the director's put in, and telling people how to speak their lines. He's also off smoking a cigarette when he should be on stage, and is just a wanker to begin with. I have a strong feeling that I'll end up either yelling at him, or kicking his face in at some point in the near future.

I finally got home at 11.30 pm, and I'm writing this. I have to be at my first job at 9 am tomorrow, I have a rehearsal from 6-10pm, then I go on to myu dubbing job till about 12.30 am. In the meantime, I have an article to finish writing, a dozen scenes to prep, and a few shows to perform. Now, I'm not the sort of person who easily gets stressed out, but this has truly been a really bad day.

I think I need a drink....

How very odd...


So here I am, working two plays at the same time, trying to make the time to rehearse both Antigone and King Lear, and as it so happens, one of the members of the Antigone company has become slightly...missing. Not being funny...the guy, went off on holiday about ten days ago, and nobody's heard from him since. Now, understandably, he might just be in need of a break, but I'm slightly worried about him, as are we all. So, mate, if you're out there, give us a buzz or an email or something. We're worried about you!

Ode to the Rain Cloud

I cannot find words.
They fail me.
Miserably.
But it is not from lack of trying.
My vast knowledge, my repository of vocabulary is empty,
Drained by the emotion I feel.
Yet it is not anger that does thus to me.
Nor hate.
Nor envy, that dries my mouth and steals away my cognizance.
I do not feel sad, nor do I despair.
The cause of my muteness is love;
Though I would not have believed it, yet so it is.
It fills my heart, drawing strength away from the bitter and the rash.
It is the humour of the body that makes all mellow,
The beauty that is without form.
And what is she that hath enchanted me thus?
Why, the little rain cloud, on a sunny summer day.