Dressed up to the nines

I haven't written anything in this blog for ages. So much for doing it every day! Well I knew I couldn't do it. Never mind. I'm back again!

So today I have been looking for jobs on the internet. I have signed up to the Guardian jobs page so was browsing on there. There were a few jobs on there that I thought I would apply for; one of those being a proofreader. I love grammar, punctuation, spelling, syntax, I just can't get enough of it. And I love correcting it. I'm not saying that I'm perfect, but I do know the difference between their/there/they're and your/you're. And I know sentences shouldn't start with 'and'.

So, I apply for this job as a proofreader, explaining how important good grammar is and that I have had experience in teaching grammar etc. Then I notice a punctuation mistake in the advert for a proofreader. Deliberate mistake, methinks. So after having explained my passion for grammar and my experience in working with grammar, I put a P.S. highlighting the punctuation mistake.

About 10 minutes later I receive an e-mail saying that because I don't have experience as a proofreader I can't have the job, but thank you for pointing out the mistake. Gah!! If I can spot a mistake in the advert then surely I should be given the job!!

I have also written to the Job Centre asking for a job as a proofreader. Currently I am unemployed and if I cannot make it to the job centre to sign on, I have to let them know. Last week I went away for a few days with my parents which meant that I would miss my signing on day. They gave me a form to fill in. It was a small form but there were so many mistakes concerning grammar, punctuation and syntax. So, I copied the form, took my red pen and corrected it, then sent it back to the head office of the job centre ssayinf that there appears to be a job going in the proof reading department and that I would like to apply for the job. They did not reply. I have recently received another form from the job centre for another reason and again there are mistakes so I am doing the same thing and correcting it then sending it back. I will keep doing this until they give me a job as a proofreader or they get someone else to do the job. I do not appreciate being given forms written by monkeys.

In other news, I have started knitting. I am making a scarf. I believe it will be finished by winter 2008. I have had to keep unravelling it as it's far too wide. I think it's the perfect width now. it's going pretty well, but my fingers are all numb from the needles. At least I'll be stylish, individual and warm. Eventually.

I Ate Your Heart Out

Oh I do love the world we live in. I like to have a nice easy life and it is clear that everyone and everything around me does not! Life likes to make life difficult for me. I am currently unemployed so I have to contend with the stupid Job Centre as well as stupid job application forms. Let's start with the Job Centre...

I am going away with my parents for a few days soon and this means that I will not be able to attend my meeting with the Job Centre in order to sign on. I told them and they gave me a form to fill in and return to the Job Centre before I go away. It is a tiny form but it is so badly written. It took forever for both me and my dad to understand it. It starts off with "Please complete all questions." It is not possible to complete questions. One can complete a questionnaire. One can complete a form. But one must answer questions. It then keeps asking me if I'm "available" but it does not say what I need to be available for. Then there are random commas all over the place making the sentences awful to read. They make no sense and because of these grammatical mistakes I found it very difficult to read and complete.

So I copied it, corrected it, and am going to send it back to the Job Centre head office place asking for a job as proof reader.

So I have been looking for jobs. I just typed 'publishers' into Google and have been trying to send off applications to publishing houses. Many of them have general applications where you can just apply to work there. I did a couple the other day and they were pretty straight forward. I then tried to fill in the one for HarperCollins. I have never known an application form to be so difficult. I put it off for a few days but finally finished it today. The first 2 pages were deceiving ... what's your name? ... what are your qualifications? ... what work experience do you have? ... Nice and easy, I thought! Then ... who are your personal heroes? ... is publishing about making money or art? ... what is the most powerful type of media? ... and a load of other pointless questions. I managed to bluff my way through it all and send it off.

I can't believe they need to know all this crap before they even consider you for a job.

Seventh Heaven

Today was another enjoyable trip to the job centre. I may have given this place capital letters before, but I no longer want to give it this much respect. Not that I had much respect for it in the first place, but they are giving me money for doing nothing. However, in a couple of weeks I am going away for a few days with my parents. My next signing on day occurs during this time that I'm away, so I have to fill in a form and answer stupid questions - well what more did you expect form the job centre?! If I don't make myself available for work even though I'm away, I won't get any money. If I don't report back to the job centre as soon as I'm back, I won't get any money. If they can't reach me while I'm away, I won't get any money. If I am not looking for work while I'm away, I won't get any money. I try and do things honestly, and all I get is a big old complicated form to fill in. I can understand why people aren't honest with the job centre, and work or do things without telling them. It just seems so painful!

It is also nice to see that the people in the job centre know how to do their own jobs while trying to find jobs for other people. Today is Monday, on my little book it says "your appointments are on Monday" and so as today is a Monday I go for my appointment. The man at the desk says "the computer says you should come on Friday." Helpful. He then has to phone another office somewhere to explain that I come in on Mondays. He told me that if it hadn't been changed, then I wouldn't get all my money. *sigh* I go in every fortnight, you give me money. It can't be that difficult a thing to organise!

One good thing though; there are a few new seats at the job centre and I managed to bag one of them while waiting. No stains. No stains!

I have nearly finished my painting. It's looking ok. Not as great as I'd hoped, but still not bad. This is piece of art #2 for my 100 themes thingumy. Only 98 more to go...

Six Of One

Yesterday I went shopping with Mum. My intention was to buy jumpers. I get very cold, very easily, and as I have a body and arms longer than the average woman I always find it a chore buying jumpers that are long enough. The other day when I was in town, I saw some jumpers that looked long enough. So I went to that same shop yesterday and managed to find a grand total of 1, yes, 1 jumper that fit me. The fashion gods deem that tall people are not allowed to be warm during the winter months. Not that I'm fashionable in any way, but I want to look nice and not just mooch around in my extremely worn and stained UoE graduation hoodie all the time. I like a jumper to reach the end of my fingertips, not reach my elbow. I also like it to cover my waist and possibly even hips, not just barely graze my belly button. But I found 1, yes, 1 jumper that was long and warm and soft and nice and green. So I guess I can wear that a couple of times a week, and then look like a tramp (or get cold) for the rest of the week!

I also bought a pair of lady shoes. Yes, you read correctly. A pair of lady shoes, with a heel. When wearing them I am 6'1" which is not such a modest height but I am fed up with just wearing trainers all the time. Don't get me wrong, I love my trainers, but sometimes (as with the jumper) I want to look nice. I am nearly 26. I am a woman. I really should look like a woman rather than a 16 year old. I have been practicing walking in them but it is very difficult. I haven't worn high heel shoes, well, ever really. I own a few pairs but have never worn them properly. I have nearly fallen down the stairs a couple of times, but I do that if I'm wearing shoes or not.

Had some good news today. Well some good post. Got a cheque for £20 from the school with a note saying that they owed me. I didn't expect it, so it was a pleasant surprise.

Today went down the toilet really. I intended to get up early, totally tidy my room, finish a painting and bake some cakes. I half tidied my room, got angry with it, had a bath, got in a strop about my room, played some games on my computer and threw a lot of stuff out my bedroom door. Yes, I am nearly 26. It drives me crazy. I have so much junk, but keepable junk. I don't want to throw away anything. I'm not holding on to it for sentimental reasons or even because I like it/need it/use it. I hold on to it for the sake of it. I become attached to things too easily. I will never throw away my books or CDs; they are my children. But I have tons of scrap paper that I shove further under my bed, and little toy type things, and postcards, and pens, and too much of everything that I don't need, and not enough of what I do need (and that is space!). It's a good job that I don't have a job at the moment. Hopefully that will stop me buying things.

And it's Saturday night, and I'm at home. I love it in this town. I have no friends and no social life. I am not asking for pity or sympathy. I am just saying how horrible it is. Even if I was at home on a Saturday night at uni, I knew that I would be going out on Sunday or Monday night, or just doing something with someone. But here, here I have my own company all the time. The next time I can go out is in 5 weeks. I have to sit in my room every Friday and Saturday night for the next 5 weeks. Great huh?! It's not that I love going out, but I like to have the choice, so that if I ever want to do it I can. I can just call someone and see if they want to go out for a few drinks. And as I type this, I can see 2 bottles of vodka out of the corner of my eye that I don't want to drink because drinking alone, in my room, on a Saturday night is a bit pathetic. I guess that I am a bit pathetic.

Hawaii Five-0

Went with Mum to town today so that she could get her tattoo done. It was my birthday present to her. Her birthday was last week but today was the earliest slot to get it done. I was so nervous I actually felt sick, and it wasn't even me having it done. She was fine. We had to wait for a while and I felt like I was in the waiting room at the dentist. I've had 6 piercings in total, plus had one ear piercing stretched from 0.8mm to 6mm over a period of time. A lot of needles, a lot of blood, a lot of pain, yet the thought of my mum getting a tattoo made me very queasy! I don't know what is wrong with me.

She had a small rose on her ankle, no more than 2" but still it got me feeling nervous. She was fine with it, said it was a bit painful, but she is very pleased with it. It was all horrible and bloody when we got home. I still want to get one, but seeing it done has made me more scared (if that was ever possible).

I managed to find some jumpers today that fit me. Their arms are long enough, although I think the fashion is for them to be extra long. I don't care tho. I just want sleeves that reach my wrists for once, just once!! I will be going shopping tomorrow so hopefully can buy some.

Did a bit more painting, got the perfect colour (perfect ish), it'll do for now.

I miss uni. Everything is just more, more. Drinks are no longer £1.65, they are more expensive, pushing £2.50 (except at Shepherd's Bush Empire where a vodka and coke was £3.80, yes £3.80). Downloading is more difficult. I don't have a nice uni network to use where things get to me in seconds. Instead I have to wait hours for one song to travel down the tubes. I have to pay more for clothes and things as I don't have a student discount (although I will use my student card tomorrow when shopping. It expires on 3rd October so I am still legally allowed to use it, surely).

In For A Penny

I haven't been feeling well today. Last night I went to bed early with a sore throat and a general feeling of not wellness. I kept waking up during the night in a cold sweat. Was not too impressed by that. My night was also interrupted by some weird dreams. I can only remember one though.

I have a recurring dream where I can swim fly (I will explain more in a bit). The dreams where I swim fly aren't the same. Just the fact that I can swim fly is the the same in many dreams. So, swim flying is pretty simple. I just take a small jump up, do the breast stroke as if I were in a swimming pool and pull myself through the air by swimming. I have had a few dreams where I swim fly, and every time when I wake up I really wish I could do it. I don't think I've had any regular flying dreams, just swim flying, and it is awesome! So, I'm back at uni and everything is looking the same. I'm talking to Aino on the hill leading up to North Towers. We get to the top, she stays to talk to someone else and I swim fly to my tower and into the lift. The lift is very different. The tower didn't look taller from the outside, but the lift buttons go up to 30. I press 11, but the lift jumps about and takes me to a load of different floors before settling on 11. Nothing is the same when I get out. The corridor is wider and there are a lot of different rooms that I don't recognise. I know I'm looking for room 2 but I can't find it. I do, however, find a wardrobe in the corridor with a number 2 on it, and a desk opposite with a number 2 on it. Aino is sitting at a desk next to mine. I ask her what is going on and she explains that only some people have their own bedroom which they have to share with someone else. All other people have a desk, wardrobe and bed in the corridor. I look under my desk and there is a fold up bed there. We have our own key to lock our wardrobe and the drawer to our desk. We have to sleep and work in the corridor. There are loads of people wandering through the corridor as it is public right of way. Dani is in the kitchen but she doesn't know what it going on and doesn't seem to care as she doesn't have to live there. Aino is behaving as if everything is normal. Rebecka is in a bad mood with me because I keep asking her what is going on. She tells me to deal with it, and I just keep shouting "I can't get undressed in a corridor."

I don't know what any of that means and I'm not sure I want to know!

When I did eventually wake up properly this morning I still felt like crap so I wandered downstairs, had some medicine and then curled up on the sofa to watch a movie. I have had The Corpse Bride on DVD for ages but I have never seen it all the way through. I put it on before I go to bed and manage to fall asleep before it has ended. So today I thought I would watch that, but I again managed to fall asleep before it ended. I will one day watch it, hopefully.

I have also started a 100 Theme Challenge. On dA I have seen some people with this in their journals. There are 100 Themes and you have to create a piece of art that relates to each theme. I want to work through them in order, and this will hopefully give me the oomph to actually get some poetry written and some painting done, perhaps with a few photos and collages thrown in for good measure. As I hate to be without a deadline I am thinking that this will give me that bit of pressure to work under. I wrote a short story yesterday, and today I started some painting but didn't manage to get the colour right for the background so I will continue with that tomorrow.

Threesacrowd

I had my lovely meeting at the Job Centre today. I am kindly asking them for some free money while I look for a job. I love the Job Centre. The people who work there look down their noses at you and talk to you like you have half a brain cell. Fair enough, the majority of people I see in there look as though they only have half a brain cell, but still. I would like to be spoken to on an equal level. The seats in that place are just disgusting. There are stains on the fabric that look like dried shit, vomit and/or piss. It really is charming.

The kind woman showed me a couple of jobs, which she called "high positions" for a fantastically high salary of £12,000 a year. Yes, that's right, £12k which probably is £9k after deductions. Mmmm, I think I'll pass on that one love.

And to make things even better, I have to wait at least 3 weeks until I get any money because my application has to be processed at a Job Centre that isn't my own Job Centre. Yes, makes sense to me!

Two Peas

I woke up with partial good intentions to continue packing, but after having sat out in the kitchen talking to the German, the French, the English, the Swede and the Taiwanese for ages this morning, I haven't even opened my suitcase. I am blaming my lack of energy on the security guard that woke me up at 4 a.m. shouting into his walkie-talkie in our flat. I don't know what was going on (I may write an angry e-mail to Security later, another excuse not to do any packing) but he was making a lot of noise, and he was blowing his nose on our toilet paper. I am not impressed about that. We are always running out of toilet paper.

Party tonight. End of everything party. Some people are leaving, going back to their country or moving to somewhere else in England for a job of some description. Some people are staying at university. I'm just going home. I refuse to be part of the rat race just yet.

I have too much stuff. But it's important stuff.

Day 1

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I think it's nice to open with a cliché. Start as you mean to go on. Oops, another one! Today is the start though. I handed my dissertation in at about 3 p.m. after meticulously checking the page numbers, making sure all 74 pages were there, in order, the right way up, blah blah blah. Then after queuing at the copy shop for ages, and waiting half an hour for it to be heat bound, I handed it in. The past 3 months of tears and sweat and even more tears, the thousands of times I visited FaceBook a day, the hundreds of chocolate bars and bottles of pear cider, the many episodes of Ab Fab, the cups of tea, the scones, the pointless trips to the bathroom, the dancing in my chair to the Hairspray soundtrack, the work, the long days full of work, all this is over. Today. Well, maybe only the work is over today. I'm sure I will do the other things again! But they aren't fun unless you're doing them in order to avoid working.

So, as the prospect of moving home looms over the horizon, I am sitting at my desk, grooving to Red Hot Chili Peppers, with my open suitcase on my bed, its gaping mouth ready to devour my clothes and shoes and books and other important items, yet here I am still sitting at my desk with my clothes in the wardrobe, shoes on the floor and books on the shelf. I have drunk one bottle of cider tonight, eaten half a tub of Ben and Jerry's Bohemian Raspberry in the hope that I could inject some oomph into my body, but nope. As usual, it didn't work. I keep looking at the junk on my floor, hoping that I could be Matilda, just for tonight, and make things move by pointing at them and concentrating really hard. Unfortunately it doesn't work, and I just look like I am constipated and have arthritis.

I have noticed recently that I use the word 'just' far too often. The first step is admitting that I have a problem. I haven't read the next self-help leaflet, so they will just have to remain until I find out what to do next.

SGR Radio magically comes out of my P.C. speakers, so while RHCP plays on WinAmp, there is a distant melody of adverts for local second hand car salesmen and free delivery on products that you don't want, but only for this weekend they are half price, that's right, half price, sale ends Sunday.

I started a blog because of my dissertation. I can now say 'dissertation.' For many weeks it was referred to as 'the thing of which we do not speak' but now that I've finished, I can actually use its name. So, it made me realise just how interesting real life can be. Yes, it can be tragic, but under the surface there is some fascinating stuff. I am not saying that my real life will be interesting, but I want to see if I can make it so.

My German flatmate has been wanting me to tell him a joke every day. Yesterday I couldn't think of one, so my English flatmate intervened.

What's worse than Michael Jackson babysitting your kids?
The McCanns taking them on holiday.

Last night the German, the English and the French got drunk in the kitchen and filled it with condoms. I don't know if I should find this funny. It is childish, but at the same time I do refuse to be a 'grown up' so I don't know where to sit. Maybe I will stay sitting at my desk, avoiding the condoms, avoiding my packing and avoiding a clever way of ending this.