Channelling Shakespeare and his company of friends...

My head is swimming with ideas and I don't know how to manage them all. The more fun I have in Paris and the more progress I make at school the more inspired I am. And also the more distracted I am. So when I feel the need to express something I inevitably turn here. I'm enjoying writing this blog and it's instant but it's becoming as much of a distraction from my real work as Twitter. I have a confession to make. My name is Hannah. I'm a trainee clown. And I waste hour upon hour reading the Twitter postings of my favourite celebs. My all time favourite is John Mayer who sometimes just makes my head explode trying to work out his meanings but mostly makes me laugh. And whilst i'm reading these pointless messages my head is spinning with the words I wish to write, the novel I'm constantly neglecting even though I think about it almost every minute of the day. In class the other day a poem even started to form. A poem. I haven't written one of those since I was a pubescent angry teenager. Okay I lie. I attempted to write one this summer about London but failed. I knew what I wanted to write. I didn't succeed. And whilst we're on the subject of class, this distraction is becoming a constant theme. As soon as I make progress of sorts with the work we are doing, whether it's actual physical progress or just me working it out in my head, that's it i'm off applying it to every tiny thing I can think of. Sometimes it's not even any thing to do with the arts. This state, I might add, is not something I am unhappy with. I am ecstatic to be feeling so creative and happy. Now what do I do with it? Do you think Shakespeare had this problem? Virginia Woolf clearly did. She killed herself. So the future looks bright...

I have clay. An actual block of clay sitting on my bedroom floor. Today I unwrapped it and squished it a bit before putting it back. It was given to us by school. The idea is for us to explore different ways of studying movement and expression. We've had two classes. In the first one we had to represent the growth of the 'core' of the actor in the Neutral mask. I created this abstract, beautifully open sculpture. The teacher was very taken with it. Everyone else made towers. Apparently it was supposed to represent us as actors. So I walked out of class thinking, wow, I get this sculpting thing and I didn't think I was good at art. And I'm open as an actor. Great. The following week I went into class feeling confident. This time we had to create a representation of a torso as it is moving forward. Mmmm. I got a torso although no woman would want the breasts I produced and the moving forward thing never really happened. It was not beautiful. It was not expressive or imaginative. Damn. Then today in a moment of creative flourish I decided I would express the journey of this weeks Auto Cour in clay. And five minutes later the clay was squished back into it's little square and wrapped up. Looks like this sculpting talent was just a fluke. Just like the first time I played pool and potted five balls in my first shot and went on to win the game in a spectacular show of blagging. And then I looked at most things in my life and realised that the first time I try something it is normally successful to some degree. And then my head turns on and thinks. And it all goes spectacularly wrong. 

Right, I'm off to read Twitter...