Hideously Self-Indulgent

I’ve stolen the title for this post from a show I did in my second year of uni, when my entire avant-garde class took to the stage to pose in tanning positions, and I pretended to write a message in a bottle, explaining to my seminar teacher why I was to hung over to go to class.
It sounds bizarre, and it was, but weirdly enough it is probably the only thing I devised at uni even remotely close to what it is I am trying to do now. We also got to work with the delicious Adrian Howells which was a great experience, and not just because rehearsals never started before 10am.
As you can probably guess, that piece, like this post, was all about the self.  Although I don’t necessarily want to talk about indulgence, more improvement, which are two things that probably often over cross.
I make work about myself, I spend a lot of time by myself and on top of this, I am employed by myself. But I’m not sure how much I work on me.
Like a lot of people my age, or at least my close friends, I seem to endlessly trying, or thinking about improving myself.
I should be doing this, I should have this by now, I have forgotten about this… but in reality I’m not sure how much do I genuinely work on myself?
Again I think all these inspirations I’ve been having about my new show have led me down this path, and I’m not sure where it is going,but at the moment my thought is this:
If I was a car (bear with me), I would run from A-B fine, and to anyone looking on nobody would be able to tell there were any problems. I would FUNCTION fine, but I don’t change my oil as often as I should, and inside there are one too many sweet wrappers hanging around, and sometimes when my windscreen wipers have to start, well they don’t stop…
But would spending time on fixing all this stuff be indulgent, or can I claim it against my taxes as necessary expenses? I’m not sure; I’m not even convinced that if you fixed one thing something else wouldn’t suddenly go wrong, as if the currently good suspension depended on a perfect balance of function vs minor problems.
This is probably the most personal post I’ve ever put on here, but expect to see a little more of this, because right now Love Lettersand Pointless Scribbles is looking to get very close to home, it might even be a little hideously self-indulgent.
Stephanie xx

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