Monologue.

Hi. Hey. Hiya. Hello.Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening.Dear so-and-so. To whom it may concern.

I never know how to address or greet someone in writing. I mean, how can you in a way that actually sounds realistic, but through text? It's not like you can hear the tone in which I'm speaking, or my accent; you can't see how I'm standing or sitting and – most importantly – you can't see my eyes.

So, I want to set the scene a little (bare with me here).

I'm sitting at my Ikea, black/brown desk on a black metal swivel stool (also Ikea), to my right is one of my bedroom windows, which views onto the rest of the court that I have lived on for nearly 7 years. Around said window there are several pieces of wall art, pictures and decoration; including a picture of little-me in my first ever Newcastle United Football Club strip (yes, I'm a Geordie). My desk is messier than usual.Although my most recent purchase – a new letter rack – was meant to cure that problem. Theatre programes, giving blood information and a leaflet on "The Big Film" occupy what was meant to de-clutter my desk, in front of this are my Ikea catalogue and my attempt at a fashion scrapbook. On the other side of my desk you'll find my favourite items bought from the RSC Theatre in Stratford: a "To be or not to be" coaster, a "Brevity. Soul. Wit." notebook and, of course, a pen with the logo on. Oh, how typical.Beneath my fingers is my pride and joy – my Macbook, otherwise known as Bartholomew: yes, I am one of those people who gives inanimate objects ridiculous names. Lastly, behind Bartholomew is a converse box full of desky-type items (calculator, hole punch etc) as I don't have any draws in my desk, there's also a "I <3 NY" espresso cup being used as a pen holder, a few thick-twig looking coloured pencils, a cork board, sound speakers and an Oscar for being the (apparent) smartest kid in high school.

Ok, now to acquaint you with myself. In acting, we would call this the "given circumstances" or "subtext."

My eyes are blue, but the shade is weather/emotion dependant: a grey sky and they're grey/blue, if I've been crying they're bright blue. You've probably already guessed what colour my hair is likely to be from the colour of my eyes so, yes I'm blonde. It's long, dark blonde with flecks of brown, light blonde and a tiny bit of copper (natural, believe it or not). Right now its in ringlets because I've been on the set of a BBC period drama all day, walking around as an "upper class female shopper", it's also tucked behind my ears so that it's out of my face; naturally it's wavy. Well, when it's behaving it's wavy. I've got normal features, plain in my opinion, not in others. All in black, still wearing the leggings and vest that were thrown on at 6a.m. to go underneath the corset and dress from the period drama, here I sit typing, eyes focused, but pretty tired, mind active, desperate for a cuppa.

The way I would great you in person would probably be some sort of confident-but-friendly "Hiya, y'alright?" or "Hi, how y'doin?"Now your thinking I have a somewhat strong accent right? Not really. I'm what my friends call a "posh Geordie."If I talk to a Northerner they sometimes have to ask me where I'm from, but if I'm talking to someone from somewhere else they can usually guess.Basically, I don't sound like Cheryl, Ant, Dec, Joe, Robson or Mr Shearer, but I don't sound like the Queen either. But I do have RP as an accent on my acting CV if that's what your looking for!

This is merely a poorly written introduction from a girl who's going to post many more poorly written blogs about things you may or may not be interested in. Read if you want to, but don't expect War and Peace.

Sincerely,

Jensen.