Uncontrollable Wind As A Means Of Communication and The Path to THe Top While Simultaneously, Single Fartedly SAVING The Music Industry...TAH DAH!

• • Eugenie Arrowsmith

    Yes, will reluctantly admit was moved by Dougie winning I'm a celeb, not least because his windy bromance with Mark Wright made me feel less bad about the dignity stripping cataclysmic chemo farts that issue forth loudly when saying 'good day' at the super Market simultaneous to a smile and chatty greeting, or whilst over taking! This is the worst option as they only get the green smoke sans smile and tends to ruin what limited social contact I can still manage. In an attempt to cover up my own surprise, I did realise this was perhaps an innovation. I am after all a woman who currently says hello with BOTH ends as fashioned by Mark Wright. Mine is due to muscle cramps as I have lost the ability to clench in any meaningful way, his is a ritual signifying his authenticity, definitely better on television with a camera crew as breathing is considered essential for most people Probably is not a bad thing, but a communication skill that needs exploitation in my dastardly attempt to win friends and influence people, as I hobble forth in my endeavour to take over the world.This is one area where audio is definitely winning at least. Trust me as someone who is thwarted on a daily basis by free downloads this is one sound and smell you won't want to sample.....just need to find a way to release simultaneously to every illegal download.....

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Separated at Birth and Influenced by in Life - I Love Julian Clary

As if life was not weird and wonderful enough I have just discovered that like me Julian Clary spent his early life in Surbiton, was signed to Virgin 10 records (like me) AND was also clearly the inspiration on the make up front for my 1986 debut single release Dancing In My Heart. He also loves small dogs (like me again) which makes him perfect, obviously (like me even more) and the fact that he tweeted that he enjoyed my blog yesterday (like me SO even more). Well I can't keep self interest and egotism out of this completely since I am a woman on a major mission, one is supposed to be promoting Mwaahhhh on a Global Scale. So my super favourite comedian has inadvertently become the first celeb agent for my universal expansion cause. I have a celeb endorsement at long last! Wait till Pepsi Cola hear about this, they'll be desperate to burn my hair offing an advert, oops except I haven't got any.

I alway wanted to be a comedienne but the doglings ate my funny bone when I left it on the carpet. Perhaps that is where the quest for world domination is going wrong, you can't leave things lying around (albums for 20 years, that sort of thing, bi-annual statements on your blog!) Although Ricky Gervais made the transition and he was a dodgy eighties pop star, and that revs my engine frankly as I mount the rocket launcher of my destiny. Anyway, Tiny People view my 86 vid and judge the similarities for yourself. Personally it was like a giant stylistic penny dropped on my head and split me wide open creatively, revealing previously unknown things (so this is an exclusive revelation). Separated at birth for sure, the synchronicity would make Sting sing.

Go visit the official julianclary.co.uk to get the real celeb deal though, I am obviously thwarted in the fame game so you need a dose of actual celeb, rather than an aspiring desperado like myself. I think we all need to go and see the Julian, Tiny People, buy a book or two, go to the pantomime. I won't take no for an answer, I need to compare make up notes, stalk him at the stage door and see if he has any beauty tips for a bald eighties pop star who has no eyelashes (don't suggest falsies because apparently they won't stick on if you don't have real ones unless you are prepared to wear them half way down your face and on your eyebrows, which was a look pioneered by an American actress whose name escapes me). Personally although I am a nobody looking at the mountain I have to climb, I currently take great comfort from Susan Boyle making it in mid life...Britains Got Talent here I come.

In conclusion to todays blog, here is a "Shaggy dog movie" of me, of the delightful Fifi and Yogi, which is a homage to the late great Fanny The Wonder Dog. I have changed since 1986 be prepared and I am not wearing any make up, but Fifi's beautiful extremism and my mad singing more than make up for it. Enjoy, if this goes viral and I make it onto the Shane Dawson show, or Rude Tube, like "Charlie Bit My Finger", my dreams will be that little bit closer.

MY ANDROGYNOUS CYBORG SELF

Her cartoon self was numb she had no thoughts.....

The Endless Ambition Diaries return after what seems like an age, too busy, too ill and too preoccupied with Facebook and Twitter. Heck when am I going to develop that vital focussed component, essential whilst attempting world domination that is the 'attention span'. I have been so hooked up with surreal TV programmes, whilst recovering from the double mastectomy, running a record label or two, going through chemo, raising three kids, a goldfish, two dogs and avoiding killing spiders and insects whilst cleaning (it's a Tibetan Buddhist thing if you will) and revelling in being a Fine Art Student and part of the NSYBA group.

Anyway how am I going to rival Kim Kardashian (I can and will rival her butt but obviously the breasts are missing) if I insist on being distracted by the likes of Judge Judy, Loose Women and the absolute high art celebrity comedy that is The Real Housewives of New York. Let's face it I am doomed, unless, unless I can find something of a super hero to fly me to the 'Pinnacle of Notoriety' (it's a real place, trust me just ask Lindsay Lohan'). Yes, Daniel Craig I so do want to be that kind of 'idiot', lost my home, got into debt in round one of cancer, which with three kids is not a joke. In round two I am compromising everything in the basic need to survive and feel useful and take care of my charges. I could do with a dose of that Kardashian stupid. From the relative low point of cancer debt and struggle, that kind of idiocy looks attractive to me. That may be because I am on steroids and chemo shrinks your brain, in point of fact but right now I am going for it Big Time.

Today I had a break through, I invented my 'super me', this is a HUGE rival to the whole 'mini me' thing and best of all it does not involve childbirth! Praise be to that, now all it takes is an ironic spirit and the capacity to turn even the most challenging experiences into a power pack for World Domination (I think I can make something of this whole cancer thing), which after all tiny people is what we are all supposed to want, is it not? Forget I am with the band, that is so, so yesterday and get with the programme and say at the top of your lungs " I am with the BRAND". One extra 'R' but two differing concepts. So here we go welcome to the world of MY ANDROGYNOUS CYBORG SELF.

1. Eye Image: She could not cry about being infertile it seemed churlish to complain she was still alive

2.Mouth Image: Her mouth was dry there were no words to convey her sense of loss. Silence.

3. Flat chested Image: Feeling feminine with no breasts or functioning womb was challenging

4. Back of bald head Image: People complimented her on the shape of her head

5. Brains in Jar Image: He said he would love her if they were brains in a jar. This helped.

6. Former Self Image: She mourned her former self and was glad she had, had a child.

7. Revelation 1. She was not afraid of dying. She was afraid of not Living.

8. Androgynous Cyborg Self Image: She was reborn as her androgynous cyborg self. She realised she was made of steel. She has magical powers that the journey had bestowed.

Her cartoon self was numb she had no thoughts.....

Links:

http://marquee.blogs.cnn.com/2011/11/30/daniel-craig-the-kardashians-act-like-idiots/

http://www.bravotv.com/the-real-housewives-of-new-york-city

http://www.judgejudy.com/

twitter.com/eugeniearro

Things have moved on

Blogging is strange you start, you wander off and then you start again. Now I have been busy getting well and getting started in my schemes. I am now the director of a company and we are starting to sign other people as well.

I have started another blog for this community

http://totalcreativefreedom.blogspot.com/

It will explain itself when you get there.

Still ambitious and will be back soon.

x Eugenie

It's good to be back yeah ain't that the truth

Well to say it's been challenging since my last blog in 2007, is a slight under statement.

Excuse the monumental pause initially because I was really too busy to write and then for breast cancer treatment and tumour removal. Yikes and all that.

What a bastard as they say and it has certainly changed my attitude to things in a million and one ways.

To your left is a picture of who I was at the start of this journey. At the time I didn't have a high opinion of myself although I new in a funky sort of way that I could do things, I didn't give myself much credit. In fact I would say I was actively grinding myself down with a very critical 'attitude to self'. I was not balanced in my perspective.

Then you get a wake up call in the form of a life threatening crisis. It started out relatively simply as a 'cyst' which I took to the Doctor in March 08 and by November it had turned into a 4cm cancerous tumour. Certainly something to get you thinking.

As I am the architect of the 'endless ambition diaries' obviously this spoiled all my plans for a while, or so I thought. Looking at it today I think it has helped my grow up and redefine myself.
Our culture calls upon us to be vain and self preening which in the final analysis distracts us from taking confident action.

How are we ever to progress if we constantly worry about our body shape, body hair, thinning hair, grey hair, thickening waistline, yellow teeth, unfashionable wardrobe, anorexia, tanorexia, obesity, being pear shapped, hour glassed, fat arsed or having a roving 'problem area' which is constantly changing depending on your demographic if you please.

I have lost count of the number of facist programmes I watched as 'a sick bitch' that shame women for not being 'on trend', for having too many clothes, masculine clothes, for lacking style and that subject women to surgical procedures for our viewing pleasure all in the name of 'self improvement'.

Where are our feminist fore Mothers when we need them? Why are we perpetuating this correctionist view of the feminine? By all means enjoy facials, massages, clothes, make up, design but by choice and not by cultural remit.

Having cancer as part of my life experience has made me radical and I am tired of seeing women degraded on a cultural level. I got bald, I got fat and I still am fatter than I 'should be' although I am now an average size 16, but as many people say to me "you are here". So the 'endless ambition diaries' live to write another day but I have to say there emphasis has changed and how!

Me after chemo, radiotherapy and surgery!

Me, chins and cheeks, courtesy of steroids.

Me no hair mid chemo

me at the beginning when my hair first came out with fifi

me after first surgery with fifi

I'll do anything for you dear anything......................

Well, here I am in England on a rainy day just mulling over how to tell the relentless tale of my endless ambition. I am assuming it began somewhere, but it set root so long ago that I can barely remember its feet. Somewhere in the recess of my heart it began, I think it was when my Mother told me I could 'do anything if I really set my mind to it'. Anything was a big word for me and I don't just mean the fact that it had eight letters and three syllables. It was the overwhelming vista of it's ANY and THING ness, it was the land of limitless choice, endless potential, and brain curving, mind numbing horizons that existed on some vast continuum that had no form, beginning or end. The more you tried to define the 'doing anything' scenario the more it would slip through your fingers like an impossible wet mango you were desperate to eat that flew into the air and landed far, far away from your taste buds leaving your hands sweet and sticky with its tantalising juice.

At the age of eight I was faced with an existential and philosophical crisis. Mother why did you have to burden me with so much space to dream into? Why didn't you tell me I could paint houses, embroider peoples ears, sneeze for a living, what ever, but not this any thing, thing, the thing that is, the very thing I can't see or speak of. You are a wag with no tail anything, the thing that wouldn't be defined and yet in it's nasty bite your rear end way is the very thing that is due to define me. I smite you anything, I beseech you anything, please show yourself, abate my suffering and reveal the deal that I am dealing with. Get out of that black hole and show yourself to me. I demand it. I must know what anything is.

After the trouble with ‘anything’ I moved into a worry about the ‘setting my mind to it’ aspect of the maternal order. Was my mind like a clock with alarms that would go off at any moment? I felt like I could go of at any moment or set hard like concrete. I felt trapped in an uncertain and peculiar destiny. I knew I wanted to find that beastly A-thing, the horror that was burning a hole in my brain pocket and making me itch all over.

At a certain point I realised that some people were more important in the world and belonged to a recognisable set of ‘visible people’; people who were rich, people who were famous, people who were ‘someone’, and had made ‘something’ of themselves. I new I belonged to the ‘no one’ set at as a child. Some children were exceptions to the ‘no one’ rule, because somehow they had managed to escape the inevitable invisibility of childhood by being Shirley Temple, or a genius, or disappearing or by being Royal. I wanted that attention, I wanted that status, but I did wonder if the elusive and as yet undefined is a good place to put your ambition and desire.

So in that invisibility my endless and undifferentiated ambition was born. A parallel all singing all dancing, demanding shadow of myself that lives in a cartoon world, waiting for the moment when my ego will be drenched in praise and all my powers will be revealed. These diaries document the highs and lows of pursuing the dream of being a ‘GLOBAL PHENOMENON’ and becoming anything but a ‘no one’ and something of a ‘Someone’. Or is it a journey about accepting death and life and the limitations of being human, or a quest for love perhaps? Right now at the end of submission number one your guess dear reader is as good as mine.