Poetry Becomes Part-Time (The Rebirth)

Welcome to the Lost and Found

So for a little while since graduating I’ve been sort of wondering what to do with myself. Sure, I have the 2.1 in Media Production, but regardless of whatever stigma you have for the course, the fact of the matter is very few of my friends seem to have gone into what they’d been studying for. A sign of the times – but it got me thinking.

One of my life mottos is that you’re always best playing the card life deals you. We’ve all graduated in perhaps the worst recession since the Great Depression of the 1930s (just give it a few years), but that is simply the card life has dealt us. Despite being renowned for being a pessimistic prick most of the time, I actually consider this new challenge with optimism – if we truly deserve our degrees, at least as a ‘measurement of our intellect’, we should be able to consider the alternatives and make them happen.

‘Just remember, then smile to applaud all around

When the bells of Coventry Cathedral sound’

So recently, I decided to stop and re-evaluate my life. I was getting down because I couldn’t get a job… as a retail assistant? I mean, where did that come from? Sorry, no wait, not sorry-b-wha-WHERE did these notions come from? Sod this, I thought – eyes on the prize.

For a long time I thought about starting up my own media service, like a lot of my fellow course-mates have done since graduation. However, having done the business school ‘run’ for five years, I know the first thing you need is a unique selling point, which regardless of my friend’s ideas, I simply do not have one. Almost everyone has a camera nowadays, complete with editing suites, be they in mobile phones or second-hand laptops. You can sell a professional service to people, with lighting and what I like to call ‘the shit’, but even so, I saw the market was ridiculously competitive across the internet, even in the UK alone. To know oneself brings a certain elation and confidence to decision-making – regardless of my passion for film-making, it seems I am not cutthroat enough to operate in this industry.

But to turn a negative into a plus, what I can do (and have always been able to do well) is the written and spoken word. I did drama almost every year at school until about age 14 (and because I forgot my lines and got bollocked by the teacher, I got stage fright for the next eight years!) In a few projects undertaken at university however, for the sake of laziness, I made some poetry videos that were (generally) well-received. After a bit of digging, I found the Mouthy Poets operating in Nottingham, and joined the group as part of an extra-curricular activity.

Nottingham has always been renowned for it’s balls-to-the-wall attitude, and anyone who knows me remotely knows that that attitude is me all over. I generally had a pretty rough time in the last year of university, yet I look back now as using those rather edgy times as inspiration for comedy for the masses. After all, most of them wont be going to university now. I can tell them about all the joys they’ll miss…

‘For the next two years we were all related, and we all left elated and I remember that I waited outside the chip shop on Spon Street thinking that this night was fated. The friendship we created reinstated my belief that I could be appreciated.’

So suddenly, as recently as the last eight weeks, a new direction seems to be opening up in my life. I finally have a goal. The goal before was to get the degree at 2.1 or above. The new goal is to earn money and pay the debt off (and I mean actual money), and, in true ‘Adam Broome’ style, I’ve probably gone for the most bonkers solution of the lot. I make myself the institution. I can handle that. Am I not, myself, a unique person? Is that not some (vague) attempt at a business strategy? There’s only one version of me – I’m catering to a niche market.

Oh how avante-gard… yes, Mr. Lennon. You’re right. Complete bullshit. Oh well, it’s better than re-playing Mass Effect all day, waiting to get a job I probably wont like, and getting swiftly sacked after a few weeks for having a long face all day while I stack shelves (or whatever their reasonings are).

My New Alter-Ego

Part Time Poet

My First Photo – Taken at the Say Sum Thin 4 event at the Nottingham Playhouse. It’s the only photo of me so far delivering a performance. Catch the Mouthy Poets on the summer show at Say Sum Thin 5 in June!

I wanted to create an on-stage persona that people of the modern-era could relate to. My performances would not be all that serious, as I believe people want more than anything nowadays to have a laugh. That’s not to say they don’t like ‘ripping yarns’, but humour would be my focal point (and, contrary to what some people think, when I’m in my element it’s one of my stronger points!)

‘You treat my like I’m your close friend

But I think you’re just one big bell-***’

I was originally going to go with the name ‘Steam Punk Poet’, but that became ‘Part Time Poet’, as my on-stage attributes are definitely not as airy-fairy as the former title belies. After all, I am still looking for work as a media professional. I just don’t fancy my chances much is all. Adam Pacitti’s CV is wayyy better than mine, and even he had to go to all that trouble just to get noticed. So I’m taking on board a lesson from his little experiment – I make a spectacle of myself, I demonstrate my abilities as a media professional around my own career, and I become my own institution. This way is more work for me (possibly), but at least I’ll know what’s going on 100% of the time. And I’ll least I’ll enjoy what I’m doing.

I’ve always wanted to entertain people. That’s where my passion for the media (moreover, the arts) is born from. At the end of the day, passion doesn’t make you good at something, but it gets you halfway there. Breaking into the arts nowadays will be a challenge, but certainly not impossible. The way I see it, I don’t really have much choice in the matter anymore.

I’m simply playing the card life has dealt me.

‘The evil maimed and lust unchained

Shadowed stains fading like memories of Spain

Lorraine, my dame, we shall drink champagne

And I let never return that anger again…’


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