dirty dancer?

second round. Here goes... 


New week. New me?
 Joke. same old scatty summer that leaves the butter out of the fridge, carries too much crap in her bag and yet again. fails to purchase a hairbrush.
But do you ever stop and think about LIFE. today that i did. I had one of those moments, you know the ones where you come out of yourself and think 'what am i doing with my life' ... no? just me then.


My mum has always told me to keep my eyes open, which i do. mainly at mulberry in selfridges, or at a hottie on the tube that needs a shave. but sometimes I try for the things that actually matter. like mulberry. just kidding... kind of. But it is good to do, just try and pick something - ONE thing in your entire day that makes a difference. because let's be honest. it's going to be pretty dull if you don't. right?


Alas this week I had an audition - there's that word that used to bring me fear and now brings me - fear and possibly a bit of excitement, aswell as a stomach of butterflies doing a bleep test.
 This weeks audition was for dirty dancing. CLASSIC. although does this actually mean i have to become a 'dirty dancer'? Apparently so.
This i realised during my audition whilst squashed between two what looked like spanish girls wearing thongs (pretty much) that looked like they could smash the routine better than i can smash an entire cup of pick'n mix. SHIT. 
Isn't it silly? getting up, applying a full face of make up, whizzing down the tube looking like pete burns and standing in front of a panel while they pick whether you are 'good enough'. if you actually analyse it. it's pretty dam weird? but i love it right? so i keep telling myself. 


I got cut - C.U.T like a pair of scissors cutting you off the string that you cling onto in sheer desperation of getting the job, or even a recall...of course i'm not actttttually desperate... wait, who the hell am i kidding. yes i am. 


The life of a dancer does keep you on your toes. literally. 


Unfortunately the week ended in topshop... in which i spend most of my time staring into space, sirening songs and people watching every single girl that comes in, whilst picking up some arseholes shit off the floor. Oh, and being told by my manager on a daily basis that I look tired. no shit. you try balancing trying to have a career, a job and a life in a week. and you don't mean tired, you mean rough. just say it.
one things for sure. I am not made for retail. this much is clear. note to self: don't ever tell topshop manager again that you're going to your audition because topshop isn't you life, unlike theirs.epic fail.


So much happens in a week - but to sum up. I think it's all about finding the little things that make you happy, right? like this week a free starbucks latte, a smile from a stranger, or buying green giant sweetcorn instead of sainsbury basics? 


to me, it's all about really living, with some jazz hands thrown in for good measure. bring on the weekend. friends,wine, food - oh and a westend career. but that can wait until tomorrow.


over and out,


summer x