Becci Curtis
This week’s blog is going to comprise a treatise on why people who are involved in the arts make the best friends. Of course, artsy people (especially those associated with drama), are often the bitchiest too but we will simply skim over the top of this fact, as they will never be more than ‘friends’ in inverted commas or mere but necessary acquaintances – our common interest, unfortunately, means that we will never escape the need to ‘network’. That sorry statement aside, let’s stretch our positively biased muscles and concentrate on the best bits…
#1 Getting to know one another…
The act of making friends is taken for granted. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is as a result of our rigorous training in theatre games. So used, are we, in having to introduce ourselves with random facts, falsetto voices and an inappropriate disregard for personal space that it doesn’t take long to gravitate towards like minded individuals. One friendship of mine that has survived the seven year itch was forged under such circumstances:
Me: ‘Hello Hayley Horse’
Relative Stranger: ‘Hello Becci Badger’
Word for word that was it. This plus the incidental detail that the relative stranger approved of my choice in footwear sealed the deal.
#2 Talking crap…
More than any other social species the arts crowd can be spotted by their regular spouting of inane and obscure crap. A gift for improvisation, extended metaphors and a refined ability for not knowing when to stop, makes this curious group of individuals adept in the art of conversation. You will often see them clutching their sides, slamming fists on tables and emitting off-putting noises that can only be described as ‘raucous’. You will also recognise them in comparison to the sombre, puritan, miserable genus around them.
#3 Always expect the unexpected…
The appearance of incongruous items of fruit, an impromptu open mic in the middle of nowhere, burlesque dance offs and performances that put the site into site-specific are only a few of the highlights I have experienced on what always begins as an average, dare I say ‘quiet’, night out. It’s no surprise then, that a group of friends like these also possess a knack for attracting even stranger people. A favourite of mine being a Bosnian in Italy who, after loudly serenading me with ‘Happy Birthday’ (needless to say it was not), spent an hour giving me an in depth personality analysis of his four dogs: Jean, Claude, Van and Damme.
To conclude: I strongly suspect that we are to blame for ruining many a night for other people, who need only take one look at us to know that we are their worst social nightmare. To these people I have one piece of well-worn advice: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em because quite frankly, we’re far too busy having fun to notice.