I'm having actual fun...

Do you think if Virginia Woolf was alive today she'd write a blog? And would her blog be different to her journal? I ask because I am currently writing a Journal, a blog, a novel and an acting diary. I don't actually know who I am in any of them. And is the Journal now obsolete because of the blog? Or because the Journal won't be read till after I die is it still valid? It's probably juicier but definately not as funny. I can't spell definately. It's been a problem for some time but I'm too lazy to spell check in Word. Oh my goodness...there is a spell check on this thing! Just spotted it. Although, I now can't use it otherwise the above sentence is irrelevant. 

So last week I dropped off radar a little. Homesickness hit. Oh my goodness...it felt more like a tsunami of girly tears. I'm surprised you didn't get the splash back. But we are fixed now. Sort of. On the upside said silly emotions led to me reaching out to new made friends, we were in that awkward polite stage still, and true friendships have now commenced. Plus, confiding in homesickness to the woman I live with resulted in the cracking open of a bottle of Champagne and hours of general chat about silly boys. Bliss. Plus wailing to the God's, I am sure, had a hand in me getting a free night out last night. Said new 'True' friend Maria invited me to go and have a coffee at her friends work and upon arrival he informed us he was managing that night and everything was free for us all night. So a coffee, Beef Carpaccio, Chocolate fondant and a few beers later and I was back to new.

Almost ended up in a strip bar yesterday evening (prior to free night) as part of research for my college project. No joke. We have to recreate a 'Place' as in 'Place de Pigalle', 'Place de Concorde' etc. The exterior and the interior of all the buildings. We have chosen Pigalle due to the fact it has a seedy looking strip joint we thought might be fun to recreate. No, we're not getting naked. We were thinking more along the lines of recreating the mirror effect you get in those places. So obviously a look inside is vital research. However, 20 Euro's is more than I can spend on anything so we decided not to. But we did get through the doors. Plus it's okay as a girl in my group informed me today that she is due to start there on Sunday night so already knows the interior. And that could be me if I don't get a second job or sponsor soon...

Halloween went by with a great red wine fueled party. Well there was a pre-party in which copius amounts of red wine was drunk whilst I drew a cat nose and whiskers on my face and put ears on my hat. Obviously, both costume and red wine were a money saving exercise and I take no responsibility for the reckless abandon taken in trying to save pennies whilst out. It didn't really work either as I made the silly mistake of taking extra money with me in case of an emergency. Hannah and cash when drunk should never be allowed to meet. Effectively I killed my monthly budget on day one. Okay that's an exageration. But still. And why a cat you ask? Well firstly, I was obviously a Witches cat and therefore entirely relevant. And secondly, I wanted to wear my black jumpsuit. Which wasn't bought in Paris in a vintage shop with money I couldn't afford at all. And I looked hot. Chatted up four times by different strange men on Metro. My new image rating system is built on this. Parisian men seem to appreciate weird clothes. The actual party was at an Irish pub. What else are the ex pats gonna do? Come on. Give us a break. I believe I muttered the words to my new 'True' friend David 'I'm having actual fun. And I thought I was just going to have to have pretend fun.' Ha ha! He agreed. We'd both been feeling morose prior to going out. I think that may become my quote of Paris.

I can't spell anything. And I refuse to spell check. And I can't speak French.

Today at school we used Neutral masks for the first time. I LOVED it. Basically, hiding my face makes me feel brave! I was bouncing out of my chair to perform at every opportunity. After last week I have decided to just hurl myself off the cliff and get up early for every Improvisation. But it helps that my face is covered. 

If anyone spots a ginger man, about 5"10 wandering round Crouch End can you put him in an envelope and post him to Paris for me? Just mark it 'To Hannah - she has matching hair - Paris' Or do you think Royal Mail might lose him? Actually can you also send a ginger, freckly, smiley girl...she tends to hang round Kings Cross. I'd say throw in Queen Mary and Creamy Nan but i'm not sure either of their joints could stand the folding...