Not differing much from previous Christmas Eveses. While the mother gets more than a little merry on wine with a friend (she can put away vodka like a 6ft squirrel, but the red stuff is sadly not her friend - gawd bless her) and my sister follows suit at Harrow’s version of a bar (I admire her bravery), I am happily tucked away in my box with presents wrapped, having consumed enough sugar to coat Disney, Led Zeppelin blaring (hey, it’s Christmas…) and probably my annual viewing of seasonal Father Ted later on.

Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s jolly and gay.

Merry Yuletide!

Well. 2012 approaches us.

Not that the year in itself is makes any significant difference in how one approaches a shift in action/attitude/outlook with each calendar event that passes, reminding us that life is moving ever closer to its inevitable rival. 

Every year, there are promises we make to ourselves to try and endlessly self-improve, whether it’s because we feel we have to or because we’re actually feeling there’s something wrong. Sometimes it’s both. For some lucky people, it’s neither, yet ignorance isn’t always bliss. Everyone can and should do it. But maybe we’re just going about it the wrong way.

What we all want are fast, effortless results to become the epitome of perfection we arrogantly - yet rightly so - believe we are entitled to. But the hard work that goes into achieving that? Forget it, is our common response. Such a thing takes time and effort, and I’ve got some sitting down and staring blankly into space to be getting on with.

The line of work I desperately want to get into is one of those few creative areas where you can’t make your results alone - you have to sit for hours sending written, subliminally pleading responses to let people who don’t really care think that you’re the best person for the job. You get called it last minute to suddenly be amazing in two minutes, otherwise it’s bye-bye and yet another rejection.

I’m aware of that. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating. But when I am given an opportunity of some kind, my delighted soul ends up obsessing over whichever role it is I am playing: making endless notes all over the script, walking around the empty house, whenever I am granted such a gift, trying to find the movements, speaking loudly in the voice I’m hearing in my head, practicing the lines in the mirror, at the ceiling, to the fridge. It’s like a frenzied mathematician trying to find the perfect equation, the eureka moment.

That eureka moment rarely comes for me, even when I’ve reached performance time, as I am naturally never satisfied. But I know that I’ve put my heart and soul into it and I can only hope that something useful comes out of it. 

And perhaps that’s the key: to let go of the fact that, despite there being some sublime and effortless people in this world who can do anything with little effort, I have to put it in. If I get over myself and practice, practice, practice, maybe that’s where I can find satisfaction. It’s been working for me lately - not just with the acting, but with cooking, singing, writing, anything that I’ve always had interest in but never bothered to work hard at it and wishing that I could just do those things in the blink of an eye.

2012 for me, therefore, will be the year of practice. I will make an art of it. I might even take up something I’ve never tried before and see if practice makes me discover a dormant talent for it. But if I just stick to what I’ve already been working at, that’s okay too. By keeping my focus simple, maybe I’ll achieve excellence. Anyone can, after all.

Apocalypse? No thank you.

I’ve got practice to be getting on with.