I WAS BORN TO WRITE

I found myself recently asking myself “how do I know I want to write in life?” well its simple really… I was born to write.

Have you ever read a piece of text where you found yourself on the edge of the chair you sitting on in anticipation? Or  have you ever read a piece of text that left you gasping for air  as you struggle to read the words typed out on the page because your eyes are filled with tears of joy while you roll on the floor laughing? This is the very way in which I write. Unlike those writers who sit and write political biographies with words that some of us never knew existed… and those who sit and write text books that no one ever understands, I write with all my flaws and errors… yes my spelling sucks, yes my grammar and punctuation is never correct and yes I some how  seem to go from first person narrator to second… to third person with in the spam of five sentences. But I write for those who are looking for a story or a text, or even a script that one can relate to and sort of fit themselves into the story line. I write of truth and raw experiences, I write of love; hate and of abuse, I describe the most beautiful land scapes that one may never get to see and I set the most awkward scenes one will ever experience. My writings have no boundaries and every word has a thousand thoughts behind them.

When you open a book that has a cheesy random title that won’t sell and the authors name is spelt… B L Y T H E and the surname reads linger, you know you are in for an adventure! Be it sad; happy; depressing, be it exciting or even inspiring. Every word is a voice, every page is a back drop and every hard cover is a stage floor.

So you want to know why I think I should be a writer or maybe even an author? that’s simple. It’s my passion to write. And my pieces of text are there for the reader to live in and interpret as they find and enjoy best

I WAS BORN TO WRITE

The girl in the red shoes

At the moment I'm sitting on an uncomfortable grey couch while in the corner of my eye I keep seeing myself in this massive mirror behind me, I watch 10 ladies of all ages having their hear washed and treated… The peaceful look on each of the ladies faces are comforting . All they have to do is sit back and enjoy the feeling of finger running through their hair and finger tips gently massaging their sculpts… What does this have to do with the girl in the red shoes? You should find yourself asking me. But on lady in particular out of all the girls in black uniforms stands out. As she stand and allows her client to feel complete bliss and comfort she has a rather uncomfortable stance and I bet her hands and arms are sore.. She stares in to the distance with a expression of deep thought on her face. Just to think that we all have our own stresses and our own worries… Now some would say : you see others have it worse off and that you should be great full. but no! That’s bull shit everyone has their own situation and one can not compare stress or worries. We also all experience and manage thing differently. Just like the girl in the red shoes has her own joys,worries and life so do each one of us… We can not get depressed for others struggles we should rather encourage and learn from them with out becoming attached.

Dear Sam

Ever had this one guy friend you've liked for awhile but he considers you to be only a friend? well yip that's right your in the friend zone!

Okay so this Is a very small conversation between me and some one I call a dear friend- hope she thinks the same! hearing her story made me think of solutions to this friend zone thing. So here is mine;)  Mind my spelling as this is a non-spell checked document.-and my spelling sucks!

So if you experience the problem of been stuck in the friend zone be sure to take a chance and try this out! oh and by the way make sure the guy you trying it on has no perceptions on sex before marriage too!

ENJOY!

Number 781

So you are reading the title of this blog expecting to read something on a hotel experience in room 781 or some lucky lottery lucky number that won you millions. Right? Or maybe even expecting a story about an outbound flight with Emirates to some far away place?

Notice how all your thoughts may have been positive about this three digit number? Not in my case, because in my case number 781 is the number I received -on an a4 piece of paper- at 12:00 this afternoon from a grumpy old lady before walking into what seemed to be like a stadium filled with 1000 other guys who all looked around about 19 years of age and had red/brown hair light green/grey eyes, who were rather pail and pasty looking and who all happen to be around about 1.77m in height. . . .Wait a minute I’m1.77m tall. .with red/brown; green/grey eyes; pail and pasty looking skin and in fact. .  I happen to be 19 years old. There I was number 781 in the line of guys that all looked like me -or at least different variations of me- auditioning for a role that no one seems to have be given the audition briefing for.

I always try to make small talk with those around me when attending these cattle calls –hoping it will pass time- instead the time seems to take even longer, once you’ve heard every guy in the room mention all the shoots he has done and all the roles he has landed. . . and if your lucky enough you will get away with not having to look through their portfolios that contain photographs of these guys posing in every pose humanly possible –this including the splits and poses you would recognize from those home-made porno's that have the electro/funk music playing in the back ground-. One good thing I can say is that at least, at this point I realize that these guys that look like they could pass as my twin are nothing like me.

“Oh wait! What number did they just call?” I often found myself asking my twin next to me after I came out of my day dream. And then he would reply “dude number 780”.

17:00-“Number 781. . . . Number 781. . ?”

Oh right that’s me. That’s when the nerves kick in as you find yours self going from a room with lighting of that of an old under-run pub to having at least four spot lights on you. And now with my stomach turning as if I’ve had extra spicy nachos for lunch -and me only now needing to pee- walk onto the infinity wall (which is nothing fancy, only a white wall that looks like a skating ramp) into the light I go,  reminding myself to suck it in and give the performance of my life.

So here it goes-even though I haven’t been given any briefing on the casting besides the order from a man behind the camera “Name first then age and agency”

“Hi my name is Blythe Linger I am 19 years of age and I then go on to say the name of my agency.

“Thank you that will be all” the man says as if I where meant to know we where finished. So that's it then, I'm thinking to myself. You saying I waited 5 hours to be given the opportunity to say my name; age and who my agency is?

Hmmmm I found myself in extreme confusion and disappointment.

Funny enough 3 days later I found myself doing the same thing at the same casting studio, this time everyone in the room looked like they could have passed as my younger sister.

“What’s the chance there will be a role in there for me what a hell of an industry”