My Life Behind the Scenes.

Once again I have become slack with my blog posts. I do however have an excuse…I have had a virus and have been bound to my bed for weeks on end. But, as Florence of the Welsh variety teaches us “the dark days are over” and life goes on.

I am struggling to find something that I want to write about this week. Normally I write about what has grated on my ever-thinning nerves, and trust me, there is a lot I could write about but, why? Why would I want to indulge in, or donate extra minutes of my time, to those fart-in-a-lift areas of my life. Instead, I shall write about one area of my life that I am eternally grateful for...my life behind the scenes.

As many of you may already know, I work in the entertainment industry. A part of my position is to work in direct contact with those who are in the spotlight. It's a funny thing, the spotlight. I mean, let's break down the word "spotlight". Spot, a confined area of space which can draw attention. Light, to illuminate. A spotlight is, by definition, designed to illuminate 'a place or person'...singular. Anymore than one lit being is just a light. In order to be spotlight-worthy we must in someway distinguish ourselves from the general population, whether it be through fame, or achievement, wealth or significant loss. Whilst that is all well and good, it is something that I could not desire less for myself. And, here is why...

The spotlight is a very fickle thing, it promises to be your best friend until uh-oh, a wrinkle has appeared on your forehead, the roles stop coming in and that twenty-something in the gold bikini is occupying the chair next to your leading man. The light fades, the bulb flickers here and there and eventually seeps into darkness. So what's next? The lucky ones will have looked ahead with a logical mind and revel in the freedom that has finally been paved before them. The unlucky ones can be found at the local DIY shop, looking for a replacement bulb, be it a role that they may have once shunned, a best of record, plastic surgery or snogging an unusual suspect. Don't get me wrong, the undeniably talented shall never leave the spotlight and their light shall never flicker. But is that all it is cracked up to be? No...just look at Robin Williams, Amy Winehouse and Jimi Hendrix. It is for this and many reasons that I have always regarded the spotlight to be incredibly destructive...there is something to be said for being normal and I am hoping by the end of my ramblings you shall think so too.

One aspect of the spotlight which makes me squirm uncontrollably is the incessant need to be beautiful. I am not perfect but all the same, I am not displeased when I look into the mirror. Cue the gasp of horror. Yes, I did just say that...I am sure I would be typing a very different sentence if say, I was in the spotlight...possibly a shopping list of all I would change. We have all seen pictures of the Kardashians with big red circles littering their bodies, pin pointing the exact coordinates of their imperfection. Can you imagine what that is like? I find it hard enough to go to work with a pimple that is not covered in a mountain of cream concealer without the tabloids plastering it across their front pages. The spotlight brings with it a pressure to look perfect, a pressure that has cost the entertainments industry billions upon billions of dollars. Hours on end are scheduled into the lives of the wealthy for teams to prim and prune the smallest details to avoid an outing when put under the spotlight. Nah, not for me. I love my sweatpants and I love my makeup free mush, there is nothing quite like being able to rub your eyes without panda paranoia. Instead, we should revel in the relief of the permission we have not to be perfect. Revel in the little things in life; going to the corner shop in our pyjamas, blurting cream soda from our nose in a fit of giggles and tipsily tripping in the street in our sisters heels, wearing pink and orange together in some crazy fashion mix up, drinking full fat lattes. Revel in obscurity, for there is no one to tell you you can't. Revel in a life behind the scenes.

This may all be a phase. A distaste, if you will, towards those who are currently tipped as our generations idols. There's Miley Cyrus, Kanye West, Lindsey Lohan...all of whom live lives totally out of our reach. It is this bizarre condition, present in our world, that makes us believe that those whom we choose to idolise cannot be like us that makes my blood boil. What happened to the incredibly creative and accomplished Emma Thompson's of the world, women who openly admit to spending a third of their lives living like potatoes in a cottage in Scotland whilst 'growing a beard'. Women who have experienced life and can teach me more than how to twerk on a weekend.

Diane Keaton, is a woman whom I believe to be a lost idol. I am sure most of you who are reading this, possibly hoping to find ramblings about lost love or bittersweet bitches, do not know who Ms Keaton is. Father of The Bride...all I have to say, google it. Keaton, in her memoir 'Then Again' speaks of her mother's most alluring feature as her complexity, which is something I find incredibly fascinating. What a fabulous world we would live in if our complexity was what our allure depended on. I would be batting them away with a stick. Maybe it is this that has left me disliking the spotlight as once you are in the spotlight all your deeper complexities fade, you become and open book, a public library where anyone and everyone can take out the book that is your life.

So, next time you are turning green whilst perusing the zoo of celebrity-ville, be grateful that you are not the one behind the bars being stared at by the millions.

xx