Reel Love

1: Sleepless in London

I can't believe that normal people can just... sleep. They turn off the lights, lie in bed, close their eyes and within fifteen minutes they're dreaming about their teeth falling out or lottery numbers. Must be nice. Me now, I couldn't do that if I tried. Which I have, many times. The moment I close my eyes thousands of different thoughts come flooding through my brain, firing across my synapses at one zero zero zero miles per hour. They flow too fast for me too process. And from one thought, will come a million other branches of thought, lines of thinking. It's like growing bacteria. It's like the darkness of my sight and surroundings allow these thoughts to fester, they have nowhere else to go other than the deep, lonely abyss that is my mind.

It's not like this when I'm awake though; up and about; watching tv, eating, scrolling on my phone. When I'm doing these daily activities I won't suddenly have an embarrassing memory of people pointing out my period-stained school skirt from year nine popping into my head. No, as long as I'm awake, there is no overwhelming influx of unwelcome thoughts trying to terrorise my already kind of crazy, conscious self.

And that's why I am here, now, looking at my phone and its 6 am, and I still haven't naturally fallen asleep. I have an interview for a very important job opportunity at 10, literally something I was only ever so lucky to get because my favourite lecturer who actually believes in me (not something I could say for my own parents) managed to pull some strings to get me an interview. It's for a role as a member of the production team on this huge American-British production, the next film in this spy thriller franchise called Agent Locke: Showdown. Big, commercial blockbusters aren't necessarily my thing but, this would be an incredible opportunity to kickstart my career as I'm nearing the end of my degree. Which reminds me, after the interview I have my last class. And after that, I have a six-hour shift at We've All Bean There, the small coffee shop I work at as a barista part-time. Wow, I just love my life. Fuck me, after that there's work drinks for my co-worker whos leaving. Kill me.

BEEP! Wha-What? What was that? I look over to my phone on the bedtime table. An email woke me up. SHIT IT'S 9.30! I must've fell asleep what the hell I was just planning to get up, prepare for my interview and drink fuck loads of coffee. Okokok. Right. I need to have a five-minute shower, get dressed, make coffee and go. I can do that. And it's a twelve-minute train ride to the building my interviews at.

So, twenty minutes later I'm on an overground train taking me further into central. I'm running slightly late but if I run when I get off the train, I can make it. Since there's no rushing I can possibly do on this train ride, I just sit down and take a moment to breathe and process. I look out the window across from me. I can tell the man sitting directly opposite is giving me pervy looks because he thinks I'm staring at him but I just block it out and gaze into the deep blue sky. There's something so serene about it. It's not a violent, trade-mark, "it's a nice day outside" kind of blue, it's softer and faded. Imperfect, but still functioning, still beautiful. I take comfort in that.

Before I know it, the doors have opened for my stop. I have three minutes to do a five minute walk. It's go time. Running with my flask of coffee in one hand, my portfolio folder in another, and hair like a wet dog I could only imagine the scenes that other people are witnessing. But at the same time I don't think people really care. It's central London. People are perpetually running to get to the place they need to be.

With one minute to spare, I enter the building and just catch the lift going up to the sixth floor. I take a sip of my coffee. I had no time for it before, but now the nerves are beginning to kick in. Maybe I shouldn't be drinking coffee. Bing. The lift opens. I rush into the foyer with the intention of checking in at reception for my interview. Except, when I exit the lift and turn the corner heading to reception, I suddenly collide with someone. I feel my butt hit the floor. Papers fly all around me. Ouch, what's that sensation? I look down and realise hot coffee is searing into my skin through my mint green shirt. You have got to be kidding me.

"Fucking hell! Watch where you're going!" I look up and a tall, blonde man is picking up the papers that dropped out of his hand when we collided. "Ah look, these are ruined now, for fuck's sake." He's American. I look at the papers. They're soaked with coffee. Suddenly, I snap out of the immobile bubble I was in as I go right back into adrenaline mode remembering that I am meant to be in the most important interview of my life, right now. I get up, grab my now empty flask and portfolio bag which is luckily waterproof, and go up to reception.

"Hi, my name is Kira McKenzie I'm here for an interview with David Crenshaw?"

"Oh yes, that's right. He told me to send you right in when you got here. His office is down the hall there, third left." I thank the receptionist and speed walk down the hall.

"I'm going to find out your name, you shouldn't be working here." I look back and it's the American man, trying to antagonise me like the privileged asshole he probably is. I continue walking towards Crenshaw's office and yell back,

"I don't....yet."