This was the last thing I was expecting to do when I logged onto my computer at approximately 9:30pm tonight.
Well not the last last thing... perhaps the last thing would have been to search for illegal weapons and look up porn. You know what I mean.
What I'm trying to say is it's been a LONG time. Very long. I can't believe I missed the year of 2013 completely. When I explain below, trust me, I will be forgiven.
I alluded to it in my last post, of things coming into fruition in the new year, which has now become last year...
In chronological order (I guess)
that family member... passed away. It was a very sad and difficult experience, and continues to be for all involved.
I had a baby! (on the total flipside). This is obviously very good news. I love her to pieces (I had a girl, clearly) and she's been our sunshine in the midst of so much darkness. She makes our lives brighter every day.
That's what I was alluding to in my last post: I was pregnant then, you see. It's difficult to go through a pregnancy when someone is so sick, and then unfortunately passes. Horrible for the sick person, horrible for the family, horrible for the pregnant person. I do not wish it upon my worst enemy. Both the sickness and being pregnant for the first time while someone you care for is ill.
I sent the first three chapters of my book to that agent who was showing interest, and after all that, she told me days before I had the baby that she was, after all, not interested in that 'style.' So after doing the whole sleep-deprivation and going insane in the early months of parenthood, I'm now back on the writing board, have sent queries to some agents and am waiting on one of them to get back to me soon on the first chapter I sent to them. Simultaneously I'm thinking of broadening my search, and am looking at writing jobs online so that I don't have to go back to my old job. I need to move on. I need flexible hours, and I feel sick at the thought of not being around my gorgeous girl while I waste time for hours on the road driving up and down across the city.
I've been doing searches on 'online writing jobs' and having read many an article about bloggers and writing and everything related I thought again (I've thought of it many times by now) how I haven't been on blogger in forever, and so thought I should stop by.
Clicking the 'new post' button though, was interesting. Brought back memories. Who am I kidding not really, but I do miss the blog. I like being anon, but I'm starting to think I need to be more public, in order to succeed in the world of publishing. That might mean eventually dropping this blog and starting a new one, and for that to take effect I can't really take any of my old followers with me, in fear of people in the real world finding out my secrets... LOL because there are so many scandals. Still, people in my life can work out a lot from my writings, hence I need to keep it protected to avoid hurting those around me.
(Big laugh at my mention of 'followers' too, not sure if anyone actually sees this blog despite my massive count of 3... ;) )
So, just thought I'd say, Hi.
Some things have changed, some not so much, some hugely, but ultimately, I'm still Miss S.
Mummy S too.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Monday, March 10, 2014
Friday, December 28, 2012
Don't you know who I am?
Isn’t that a Spice Girls song? Or am I getting confused with “Who do you think you are?” Kind of opposite my intended meaning, however had I actually said my post title out loud, I’m sure the receiver would have been quoting the Spice Girls.
Every so often, not too much thankfully (because to say the above would mean I’m in a not-very-good-situation) but I’ve had the feeling of wanting to say something along the lines of that.
In particular in relation to my job, if I’ve felt I was going to get unwelcome, in particular unfair trouble/treatment for whatever reason, I’ve had the strongest inclination to say “Do you know where I work?”
It’s something that naturally comes with working where I work, at a particular ‘influential’ media company, with ‘influential’ media contacts, and lots of other people I work with, have both admitted to thinking/doing the same, and encouraging the same. If you have it, you gotta use it, true?
Although I’m not one to take advantage of, guilt people into, or blackmail others into certain ‘desirable’ outcomes for myself, like I said, only when I felt I was getting inappropriate treatment did this thought cross my mind. Never have I used it.
A couple of weeks ago, something happened, that rather than make me want to say “Do you know where I work?” made me want to say something that only the biggest nose-in-the-air stuck-up celebs would say. I was soooo close.
I’d made my hair cut appointment over a month before the busy/crazy festive month. I’m never this early or organised with my hair, only just getting in before Christmas each year, but this time I was there at the hairdressers for a hair cut in October, and I thought “why not? I’ll be organised.”
So I made it.
Then something/someone broke my windscreen. I don’t know who/what it was, whether it was intentional or not, but one morning I got into my car, and there was a crack in the top right, and it proceeded to get longer and extend to the middle of the window over the next couple of days.
I initially freaked out. I thought the windscreen would shatter and cave in on me at any point in my driving. I was yet to find out that I could drive like that for 3 years (not that I wanted to), and in my freaked out state I had to IMMEDIATELY get it fixed.
The only day the guy could fix it, was a day I felt I already had an appointment. But I made the windscreen appointment anyway.
I called up my hairdresser’s, hoping whoever answered wouldn’t tell me what I already suspected. Yes I’d made the appointment so many months earlier, only I hadn’t been organised enough to write down the date. When I found out that the time of the hair cut coincided with the windscreen getting fixed, well I felt I had to cancel my hair cut appointment – I felt it was a matter of safety.
A bit disappointed, I informed the girl that I had to cancel, and asked her what other times I could see my usual hairdresser.
No times. Not that week or the one other.
I took a deep breath, and asked about getting my hair cut by the owner. He’s cut my hair a few times, and he actually knows me really well. I’ve been going there for so long, and he’s always really polite and friendly to me, and treats me almost like we’re friends. On several occasions he’s even bent over backwards to get me in, because I’m such a loyal customer.
No free times for him either. Not that week or the one other.
And then they were on leave ‘til end of Jan. END OF ‘JAN.
I was quite upset, and mad, but asked to get my name and number down so they could call me if there was a cancellation. Surely there’d be a cancellation.
In the meantime, the windscreen man cancelled on me, 10 minutes late into the time he was meant to come and fix it. I told him not to worry about coming another time, and then screamed the house down when I hung up. I was having a bad week.
At about the same time I got a voicemail message from the hairdresser owner, telling me someone had cancelled. I was really excited calling back, until I realised the date he’d given was actually a date I was already booked with something else. I wasn’t going to cancel my work Christmas party for a haircut, no matter how much my split ends needed to be removed.
I asked to speak to him – it was the same girl who told me there were no bookings available the first time around – and when she asked why, I explained he’d left a message for me. She returned in less than 10 seconds, informing me he’d made a mistake and hadn’t seen the message that I actually couldn’t come in on the day he suggested. I knew that, I just wanted to talk to him and get him to help me! I knew, I felt, that if he actually spoke to me, HE would squeeze me in, because HE knew how important I was. “Do you know who I am? How long I’ve been going there?” I wanted to scream into the phone. But I didn’t scream it. I tried to remain calm.
I was soooo mad. I devised a plan to ‘swing by’ the salon after work the following week, even if they hadn’t called me, just so I could see him ‘in person’ and make a ‘booking’ for the following YEAR.
When I came in, perhaps right near their closing time, I found:
Owner
Woman with child (child appeared to be getting hair cut), &
Said women from phone with her hair in foils.
AHEM. IN FOILS.
So it appeared that two people were working, and only one was paying. They couldn’t fucking get me in, a loyal customer, for a simple haircut, but they could put foils in the hair of a non-paying employee. I was soooo shitty.
Owner seemed to be aware they’d been trying to get me in though. That’s what I found surprising. He asked when I was coming in next, and I said with some bite ‘next year.’ I couldn’t follow through though, and still said a nice goodbye and ‘Merry Christmas’ – but really thinking of the scenario there over and over, I felt they could have treated me better, and at least tried. Considering it was their last week of Christmas trading hours, they didn’t look busy AT ALL.
Maybe owner didn’t know I had previously booked, and had to cancel due to what I temporarily though was a safety emergency – I certainly didn’t tell the girl, but she knew I’d booked months earlier, I told her that much.
Maybe I should have asked to speak to said owner from the start, in order to avoid all these ‘what if’s’ and urgencies to scream “Do you know who I am?” through the phone receiver. Maybe he would have helped me out more. She doesn’t know who I am, after all.
However, it didn’t appear I was anyone, from the moderate, average treatment I got when I walked into the salon unexpectedly that day… from the lack of treatment I received.
I’m booked in with him in late Jan. On the first day they come back. Gosh I hope he comments on my split ends. I intend on making him feel soooooo guilty.
Because clearly he’s forgotten who I am.
Every so often, not too much thankfully (because to say the above would mean I’m in a not-very-good-situation) but I’ve had the feeling of wanting to say something along the lines of that.
In particular in relation to my job, if I’ve felt I was going to get unwelcome, in particular unfair trouble/treatment for whatever reason, I’ve had the strongest inclination to say “Do you know where I work?”
It’s something that naturally comes with working where I work, at a particular ‘influential’ media company, with ‘influential’ media contacts, and lots of other people I work with, have both admitted to thinking/doing the same, and encouraging the same. If you have it, you gotta use it, true?
Although I’m not one to take advantage of, guilt people into, or blackmail others into certain ‘desirable’ outcomes for myself, like I said, only when I felt I was getting inappropriate treatment did this thought cross my mind. Never have I used it.
A couple of weeks ago, something happened, that rather than make me want to say “Do you know where I work?” made me want to say something that only the biggest nose-in-the-air stuck-up celebs would say. I was soooo close.
I’d made my hair cut appointment over a month before the busy/crazy festive month. I’m never this early or organised with my hair, only just getting in before Christmas each year, but this time I was there at the hairdressers for a hair cut in October, and I thought “why not? I’ll be organised.”
So I made it.
Then something/someone broke my windscreen. I don’t know who/what it was, whether it was intentional or not, but one morning I got into my car, and there was a crack in the top right, and it proceeded to get longer and extend to the middle of the window over the next couple of days.
I initially freaked out. I thought the windscreen would shatter and cave in on me at any point in my driving. I was yet to find out that I could drive like that for 3 years (not that I wanted to), and in my freaked out state I had to IMMEDIATELY get it fixed.
The only day the guy could fix it, was a day I felt I already had an appointment. But I made the windscreen appointment anyway.
I called up my hairdresser’s, hoping whoever answered wouldn’t tell me what I already suspected. Yes I’d made the appointment so many months earlier, only I hadn’t been organised enough to write down the date. When I found out that the time of the hair cut coincided with the windscreen getting fixed, well I felt I had to cancel my hair cut appointment – I felt it was a matter of safety.
A bit disappointed, I informed the girl that I had to cancel, and asked her what other times I could see my usual hairdresser.
No times. Not that week or the one other.
I took a deep breath, and asked about getting my hair cut by the owner. He’s cut my hair a few times, and he actually knows me really well. I’ve been going there for so long, and he’s always really polite and friendly to me, and treats me almost like we’re friends. On several occasions he’s even bent over backwards to get me in, because I’m such a loyal customer.
No free times for him either. Not that week or the one other.
And then they were on leave ‘til end of Jan. END OF ‘JAN.
I was quite upset, and mad, but asked to get my name and number down so they could call me if there was a cancellation. Surely there’d be a cancellation.
In the meantime, the windscreen man cancelled on me, 10 minutes late into the time he was meant to come and fix it. I told him not to worry about coming another time, and then screamed the house down when I hung up. I was having a bad week.
At about the same time I got a voicemail message from the hairdresser owner, telling me someone had cancelled. I was really excited calling back, until I realised the date he’d given was actually a date I was already booked with something else. I wasn’t going to cancel my work Christmas party for a haircut, no matter how much my split ends needed to be removed.
I asked to speak to him – it was the same girl who told me there were no bookings available the first time around – and when she asked why, I explained he’d left a message for me. She returned in less than 10 seconds, informing me he’d made a mistake and hadn’t seen the message that I actually couldn’t come in on the day he suggested. I knew that, I just wanted to talk to him and get him to help me! I knew, I felt, that if he actually spoke to me, HE would squeeze me in, because HE knew how important I was. “Do you know who I am? How long I’ve been going there?” I wanted to scream into the phone. But I didn’t scream it. I tried to remain calm.
I was soooo mad. I devised a plan to ‘swing by’ the salon after work the following week, even if they hadn’t called me, just so I could see him ‘in person’ and make a ‘booking’ for the following YEAR.
When I came in, perhaps right near their closing time, I found:
Owner
Woman with child (child appeared to be getting hair cut), &
Said women from phone with her hair in foils.
AHEM. IN FOILS.
So it appeared that two people were working, and only one was paying. They couldn’t fucking get me in, a loyal customer, for a simple haircut, but they could put foils in the hair of a non-paying employee. I was soooo shitty.
Owner seemed to be aware they’d been trying to get me in though. That’s what I found surprising. He asked when I was coming in next, and I said with some bite ‘next year.’ I couldn’t follow through though, and still said a nice goodbye and ‘Merry Christmas’ – but really thinking of the scenario there over and over, I felt they could have treated me better, and at least tried. Considering it was their last week of Christmas trading hours, they didn’t look busy AT ALL.
Maybe owner didn’t know I had previously booked, and had to cancel due to what I temporarily though was a safety emergency – I certainly didn’t tell the girl, but she knew I’d booked months earlier, I told her that much.
Maybe I should have asked to speak to said owner from the start, in order to avoid all these ‘what if’s’ and urgencies to scream “Do you know who I am?” through the phone receiver. Maybe he would have helped me out more. She doesn’t know who I am, after all.
However, it didn’t appear I was anyone, from the moderate, average treatment I got when I walked into the salon unexpectedly that day… from the lack of treatment I received.
I’m booked in with him in late Jan. On the first day they come back. Gosh I hope he comments on my split ends. I intend on making him feel soooooo guilty.
Because clearly he’s forgotten who I am.
The weetbix incident
So after a long time of no blog posting, let’s now bombard Blogger in one day.
Let me now recount, the ‘weetbix’ incident.
I have a certain name, that whilst young, could be teased. Sorry, WILL be teased. Fortunately when I was growing up I didn’t get teased much for it; however, I was really quite tough when it came to that aspect of my personality, as it honestly didn’t faze me. I would say, and still do say “honestly is that the best you can come up with?” These days it rarely comes up, only an extremely immature person would say something funny relating to my name, and I suspect even then people would look at them like ‘you’re so dumb right now.’
In my entire life, I don’t think I’ve been teased as much for my name, as I have been teased for my morning weetbix at work.
Honestly, it must be a male thing. Because only males here do it.
In the short time that I’ve been eating brekkie at work, I have had so many guys being so ridiculously stupid, it’s not funny. I have a large container that I fill with my weetbix, and leave in my locker, so every morning I take out 2 weetbix for my brekkie. 2, that’s all. Not 18, like the amount that is in my container at maximum capacity, but 2.
The container will sometimes be on my work desk, or on the table in the kitchen as I get my breakfast ready, and always some stupid person, even from a supposedly smart mouth, will say this remark “oh ,you’ve got a lot of weetbix.”
“That’s a lot of weetbix.”
“Oh, big breakfast!”
“You do a lot of weetbix!”
They are soooo rapt with themselves for their brilliant/stupid insight. They almost pat themselves on the back. Obviously it’s done as a joke. However, for some reason, it shits me up the wall.
I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s super early when I’m at work, and I need to have my breakfast before I can gain my regular sense of humour. Maybe it’s because men say generally stupid things. Or maybe it’s because it’s so blatantly obvious to me that I only have a few, that I find it absurd that the guys here continue to say the most stupidly insane things. It really annoys me.
It annoyed me to a point of no return a couple of months ago.
I came in to work, and had my container on my work bench before making my way into the kitchen. This guy who works near me walked past, and after we said a polite hello to each other, he proceeded to fuck his morning up with this:
“oh, you have a lot of weetbix.” (hahaha, jibe-smile remark – all this ‘intellectual’ though average-breed male was missing was a fellow caveman to prod in the side as they looked on stupidly at me)
And I proceeded to fuck up MY morning with this:
“(deep breath) I don’t know why everyone says that, it’s obvious that I only have 2 weetbix, really.”
I must mention that I responded quite strongly/vehemently, which resulted in intellectual caveman putting his hands up in front of him in a ‘I back down, don’t bite’ motion, as he stepped backwards slowly.
And then I HAD to add:
“Sorry, you were just the straw that broke my back.”
OMG. Just shut up already Miss S.
I was freaking worried then, and embarrassed after the fact, that I would get some stupid office reputation as being a ‘weetbix stickler’; someone paranoid over/about their breakfast; just a general breakfast-biscuit freak.
This dude, he totally avoided me, FOR AGES. I don’t generally talk to this guy, not only because we don’t exactly, well in any way shape or form really have to talk to each other with our work, but also because he kind of annoys me. I don’t like his sense of humour. It offended me once upon a time, so in my books, he’s out.
He’s just ‘not my type.’
And yet now, I was feeling so bad. Seriously, I think I scarred him. I was thinking of it for ages, and I even wanted to somehow say sorry, without putting more weight on the topic. But really that’s what I would have done had I said something. So I just left it. And left it. And we walked by each other, while he absent-mindedly on purpose pretended he didn’t see me.
We have spoken some words since then. Very few, so I hope he’s gotten over the pain of being verbally attacked by a supposed ‘wallflower’ like me. I don’t think he’ll stir me about my brekkie again. I don’t think he’ll mention weetbix to anyone again, EVER.
I did get a weetbix remark a couple weeks ago, in the kitchen, by another unsuspecting caveman.
He said “oh, you do a lot of weetbix.”
Remembering how I thrashed caveman 1 a while back, I just smiled, not looking at him, and said sarcastically “yeah, I have a 15 a day problem.”
He laughed. Stupid caveman.
Let me now recount, the ‘weetbix’ incident.
I have a certain name, that whilst young, could be teased. Sorry, WILL be teased. Fortunately when I was growing up I didn’t get teased much for it; however, I was really quite tough when it came to that aspect of my personality, as it honestly didn’t faze me. I would say, and still do say “honestly is that the best you can come up with?” These days it rarely comes up, only an extremely immature person would say something funny relating to my name, and I suspect even then people would look at them like ‘you’re so dumb right now.’
In my entire life, I don’t think I’ve been teased as much for my name, as I have been teased for my morning weetbix at work.
Honestly, it must be a male thing. Because only males here do it.
In the short time that I’ve been eating brekkie at work, I have had so many guys being so ridiculously stupid, it’s not funny. I have a large container that I fill with my weetbix, and leave in my locker, so every morning I take out 2 weetbix for my brekkie. 2, that’s all. Not 18, like the amount that is in my container at maximum capacity, but 2.
The container will sometimes be on my work desk, or on the table in the kitchen as I get my breakfast ready, and always some stupid person, even from a supposedly smart mouth, will say this remark “oh ,you’ve got a lot of weetbix.”
“That’s a lot of weetbix.”
“Oh, big breakfast!”
“You do a lot of weetbix!”
They are soooo rapt with themselves for their brilliant/stupid insight. They almost pat themselves on the back. Obviously it’s done as a joke. However, for some reason, it shits me up the wall.
I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s super early when I’m at work, and I need to have my breakfast before I can gain my regular sense of humour. Maybe it’s because men say generally stupid things. Or maybe it’s because it’s so blatantly obvious to me that I only have a few, that I find it absurd that the guys here continue to say the most stupidly insane things. It really annoys me.
It annoyed me to a point of no return a couple of months ago.
I came in to work, and had my container on my work bench before making my way into the kitchen. This guy who works near me walked past, and after we said a polite hello to each other, he proceeded to fuck his morning up with this:
“oh, you have a lot of weetbix.” (hahaha, jibe-smile remark – all this ‘intellectual’ though average-breed male was missing was a fellow caveman to prod in the side as they looked on stupidly at me)
And I proceeded to fuck up MY morning with this:
“(deep breath) I don’t know why everyone says that, it’s obvious that I only have 2 weetbix, really.”
I must mention that I responded quite strongly/vehemently, which resulted in intellectual caveman putting his hands up in front of him in a ‘I back down, don’t bite’ motion, as he stepped backwards slowly.
And then I HAD to add:
“Sorry, you were just the straw that broke my back.”
OMG. Just shut up already Miss S.
I was freaking worried then, and embarrassed after the fact, that I would get some stupid office reputation as being a ‘weetbix stickler’; someone paranoid over/about their breakfast; just a general breakfast-biscuit freak.
This dude, he totally avoided me, FOR AGES. I don’t generally talk to this guy, not only because we don’t exactly, well in any way shape or form really have to talk to each other with our work, but also because he kind of annoys me. I don’t like his sense of humour. It offended me once upon a time, so in my books, he’s out.
He’s just ‘not my type.’
And yet now, I was feeling so bad. Seriously, I think I scarred him. I was thinking of it for ages, and I even wanted to somehow say sorry, without putting more weight on the topic. But really that’s what I would have done had I said something. So I just left it. And left it. And we walked by each other, while he absent-mindedly on purpose pretended he didn’t see me.
We have spoken some words since then. Very few, so I hope he’s gotten over the pain of being verbally attacked by a supposed ‘wallflower’ like me. I don’t think he’ll stir me about my brekkie again. I don’t think he’ll mention weetbix to anyone again, EVER.
I did get a weetbix remark a couple weeks ago, in the kitchen, by another unsuspecting caveman.
He said “oh, you do a lot of weetbix.”
Remembering how I thrashed caveman 1 a while back, I just smiled, not looking at him, and said sarcastically “yeah, I have a 15 a day problem.”
He laughed. Stupid caveman.
Friday, October 26, 2012
I ran over a mattress
There is no lie, no exaggeration to the above statement. True story. Just another one of the random things I do.
This actually happened to me last week. I do fairly early morning work shifts, and need to get up at an unfathomable time in order to get to work. The unfathomable-ness is made even more so by the fact that rather than sleep in an extra 20-30 minutes and get to work right on time, I actually need to leave the house earlier than I have to, just to get parking. That’s just shithouse.
Because of the insane hour I’m driving at, needless to say I’m still a little sleepy when I get in the car; not dangerously so, of course, but even after washing my face, brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I’m still in a bit of a haze, with sleepy-land trailing slowly behind me.
And because it is so dark, well… there is not much on the road near my house, except for some other random poor soul in their car that also has to get up at an insane hour to get to work. Because not much happens, and it is relatively still and quiet at that time of the early morning, I was quite hazily staring into the far horizon of darkness as I drove down my street last week, not aware of what was coming up in front of me…
It was only when it came within a couple of metres of my impending headlights, that I noticed an unexpected white line. My immediate thought was “oh God, I’m going to hit something” but it was so close and I was travelling about 50 kms/h that it was too late to not hit it. As I reached it, braking, I realised what it was. However the brake stopped me just as I drove over it, and I was there, fully stopped, my car sitting on a freaking whole mattress in the middle of the road.
What made it worse was that a car had come out from a side street up ahead, and having seen me approach had to stop to give way. Only they stopped to watch me stop on a freaking mattress. How embarrassment. I had nothing else to do and accelerated hard, hoping to get off the mattress and away from the stupid situation as fast as I could.
I angrily called Hubbie as I sped away (emergency call it was). I wanted to warn him of the mattress so that he wouldn’t run over it on his way to work 30 minutes later. Huh. Like he would. As I told him he was like “you ran over a mattress? How come you didn’t see it?” As I angrily explained that it was dark and how it apparently had risen from the ground appearing out of nowhere, I could hear him smiling. Men.
Every time Hubbie sees a mattress now, he laughs.
This actually happened to me last week. I do fairly early morning work shifts, and need to get up at an unfathomable time in order to get to work. The unfathomable-ness is made even more so by the fact that rather than sleep in an extra 20-30 minutes and get to work right on time, I actually need to leave the house earlier than I have to, just to get parking. That’s just shithouse.
Because of the insane hour I’m driving at, needless to say I’m still a little sleepy when I get in the car; not dangerously so, of course, but even after washing my face, brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I’m still in a bit of a haze, with sleepy-land trailing slowly behind me.
And because it is so dark, well… there is not much on the road near my house, except for some other random poor soul in their car that also has to get up at an insane hour to get to work. Because not much happens, and it is relatively still and quiet at that time of the early morning, I was quite hazily staring into the far horizon of darkness as I drove down my street last week, not aware of what was coming up in front of me…
It was only when it came within a couple of metres of my impending headlights, that I noticed an unexpected white line. My immediate thought was “oh God, I’m going to hit something” but it was so close and I was travelling about 50 kms/h that it was too late to not hit it. As I reached it, braking, I realised what it was. However the brake stopped me just as I drove over it, and I was there, fully stopped, my car sitting on a freaking whole mattress in the middle of the road.
What made it worse was that a car had come out from a side street up ahead, and having seen me approach had to stop to give way. Only they stopped to watch me stop on a freaking mattress. How embarrassment. I had nothing else to do and accelerated hard, hoping to get off the mattress and away from the stupid situation as fast as I could.
I angrily called Hubbie as I sped away (emergency call it was). I wanted to warn him of the mattress so that he wouldn’t run over it on his way to work 30 minutes later. Huh. Like he would. As I told him he was like “you ran over a mattress? How come you didn’t see it?” As I angrily explained that it was dark and how it apparently had risen from the ground appearing out of nowhere, I could hear him smiling. Men.
Every time Hubbie sees a mattress now, he laughs.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Nightmare on Sydney Road
Humans are a truly odd race. We strive for ideal lives, aspire to the best in everything, and seek constant perfection in a clearly imperfect world. Our world is flawed indeed. We are a perverse race. We watch the despair and destruction shown to us by the news every day, our ears perk up at the slightest information of someone’s dramas and unhappiness, and we slow down to observe the wreckages that are smashed-up cars on the freeway.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Friday, September 21, 2012
A letter to my boss
To my boss,
In recent days you have sent to our department a multitude of emails. The main point of all these emails is along these lines:
“there have been several mistakes discovered by other shit-faced departments in regards to our highly over-worked department, to which I now have to respond because I don’t have the guts to tell them where to go, or to actually acknowledge on some humble level that all of you actually work heaps and I undervalue your efforts greatly.”
(Of course she didn’t say that whole part, rather the first 6 words, the rest is wishful thinking)
“I would like to mention again not so kindly in CAPS, and break it down for you in an anyone-can-understand-this-even-kids-you-stupid-mofos numbered list, hoping that for once you will actually read this email and I will know if you haven’t because I’m sending a read receipt with it, SUCK.”
(Obviously, I’m over-exaggerating again, but I know what she REALLY wants to say…)
“1. Check fucking everything that you work on, down to the numbers, the print, in fact, spend about an hour checking you are working on the right thing before you even start to work.
2. Along with checking the sun has come out for the day and staring at the screen idiotically for hours on end, just in case, I’d like to re-iterate that you all have sooooo much work to do, so I’d like you to become magicians and find a way to check EVERYTHING on your computer screens, and hey even throw in an organisation routine for your desk for a little bit more pizazz and extra brownie points, but try and do it in the quickest time possible. So check, but skimp on the perfectionism. Got it?
3. Here are the things I want you to check, and I’ve broken it down for you in easy-to-read, itty-bitty points, ARSES:
- Check your screen is the correct width
- Check your screen is the correct height
- Check that your mouse is positioned perfectly 180 degrees to your screen, and at a 90 degree angle to your keyboard. (Your hand must always hover above the mouse, never rest.)
- Auto correct your screen every 5 minutes. If you fail to check in any 5 minute interval, increase the checking times five for your next check.
- Check all numbers on your screen go in sequential order. If not, re-start your computer and try again, repeating all steps above.
Continue this useless checking all day. Yet I want you to do all your work plus more, in about 5 minutes flat per project, because that’s really how quick you should be working. Good, you got that.
Finally, if at any stage you don’t know what to do, simply swivel your back-breaking chairs around and around for 5 times clockwise, then 5 times anti-clockwise, and then repeat all the steps above. If this makes you have to go toilet, don’t. the longer you hold it, the longer you will be rewarded.
This will ensure you are properly efficient and effective in all manners of work required.”
Why, thanks boss . Here is my reply.
A few interesting points I’d like to point out. We are a department predisposed to ‘attention to detail,’ (we’ll try ignore the fact you want us to do the likes of fine tuning an engine in 0.2 seconds). Considering we do a shitload amount of work of various job descriptions (many of them not ours), and churn out tens of hundreds of ‘projects,’ sometimes per day, it is interesting to note how we tend to get things right 99.9999999% of the time, I mean, in the greater scheme of things. Just saying. You know from a ‘positive’ perspective.
In any box of crayons there is always a couple broken ones. Instead of verbally bashing those of us who actually work (never mind me with my constant journaling – I am efficient thanks) why not pick on those who say, for example, um, constantly call in sick, constantly come to work late and then leave, stare at the screen aimlessly and just generally whinge and bitch and moan. Instead on focusing on those of us who actually do work, why not look at the ones who just surf the net, constantly email their overseas friends, the ones who are here, but never REALLY here? Why not send a department-wide email pointing them out, huh? That would be INTERESTING. Especially for YOUR boss to read…
Another good thing to mention. Next time you send out one of those kick-us-up-our-arses emails for apparently just doing our job, why don’t you spend that same day actually doing YOUR job, boss, so that when I walk past your desk I don’t find you:
a) Online shopping for clothes
b) Booking flights
c) Reading about gerbils
Just saying. The ‘do as I say, not as I do’ approach doesn’t really suit you. Like the colour green. Ugh. Don’t go there, really.
Sincerely,
Miss S (and the rest of us that actually work – which today is everyone seated around me, except for me right now.
Right, I’m getting back to it).
In recent days you have sent to our department a multitude of emails. The main point of all these emails is along these lines:
“there have been several mistakes discovered by other shit-faced departments in regards to our highly over-worked department, to which I now have to respond because I don’t have the guts to tell them where to go, or to actually acknowledge on some humble level that all of you actually work heaps and I undervalue your efforts greatly.”
(Of course she didn’t say that whole part, rather the first 6 words, the rest is wishful thinking)
“I would like to mention again not so kindly in CAPS, and break it down for you in an anyone-can-understand-this-even-kids-you-stupid-mofos numbered list, hoping that for once you will actually read this email and I will know if you haven’t because I’m sending a read receipt with it, SUCK.”
(Obviously, I’m over-exaggerating again, but I know what she REALLY wants to say…)
“1. Check fucking everything that you work on, down to the numbers, the print, in fact, spend about an hour checking you are working on the right thing before you even start to work.
2. Along with checking the sun has come out for the day and staring at the screen idiotically for hours on end, just in case, I’d like to re-iterate that you all have sooooo much work to do, so I’d like you to become magicians and find a way to check EVERYTHING on your computer screens, and hey even throw in an organisation routine for your desk for a little bit more pizazz and extra brownie points, but try and do it in the quickest time possible. So check, but skimp on the perfectionism. Got it?
3. Here are the things I want you to check, and I’ve broken it down for you in easy-to-read, itty-bitty points, ARSES:
- Check your screen is the correct width
- Check your screen is the correct height
- Check that your mouse is positioned perfectly 180 degrees to your screen, and at a 90 degree angle to your keyboard. (Your hand must always hover above the mouse, never rest.)
- Auto correct your screen every 5 minutes. If you fail to check in any 5 minute interval, increase the checking times five for your next check.
- Check all numbers on your screen go in sequential order. If not, re-start your computer and try again, repeating all steps above.
Continue this useless checking all day. Yet I want you to do all your work plus more, in about 5 minutes flat per project, because that’s really how quick you should be working. Good, you got that.
Finally, if at any stage you don’t know what to do, simply swivel your back-breaking chairs around and around for 5 times clockwise, then 5 times anti-clockwise, and then repeat all the steps above. If this makes you have to go toilet, don’t. the longer you hold it, the longer you will be rewarded.
This will ensure you are properly efficient and effective in all manners of work required.”
Why, thanks boss . Here is my reply.
A few interesting points I’d like to point out. We are a department predisposed to ‘attention to detail,’ (we’ll try ignore the fact you want us to do the likes of fine tuning an engine in 0.2 seconds). Considering we do a shitload amount of work of various job descriptions (many of them not ours), and churn out tens of hundreds of ‘projects,’ sometimes per day, it is interesting to note how we tend to get things right 99.9999999% of the time, I mean, in the greater scheme of things. Just saying. You know from a ‘positive’ perspective.
In any box of crayons there is always a couple broken ones. Instead of verbally bashing those of us who actually work (never mind me with my constant journaling – I am efficient thanks) why not pick on those who say, for example, um, constantly call in sick, constantly come to work late and then leave, stare at the screen aimlessly and just generally whinge and bitch and moan. Instead on focusing on those of us who actually do work, why not look at the ones who just surf the net, constantly email their overseas friends, the ones who are here, but never REALLY here? Why not send a department-wide email pointing them out, huh? That would be INTERESTING. Especially for YOUR boss to read…
Another good thing to mention. Next time you send out one of those kick-us-up-our-arses emails for apparently just doing our job, why don’t you spend that same day actually doing YOUR job, boss, so that when I walk past your desk I don’t find you:
a) Online shopping for clothes
b) Booking flights
c) Reading about gerbils
Just saying. The ‘do as I say, not as I do’ approach doesn’t really suit you. Like the colour green. Ugh. Don’t go there, really.
Sincerely,
Miss S (and the rest of us that actually work – which today is everyone seated around me, except for me right now.
Right, I’m getting back to it).
Coffee makes me go freaking insane
(Sing along to UB40s ‘Red Red Wine’)
Rich, dark, coffeeeeeee
Goes to my headddddd
Makes me believe that I
Can conquer the worldddddddd…
This is so true. It is Friday morning, I have my coffee sitting at my right, conveniently next to my mouse so that instead of getting back to work I can just reach out and take in some warm and inviting goodness instead. Puh, work. On a Friday? Whatever.
Coffee is natural, coffee is fun, coffee is best when it’s ‘One on One.’
Ok so I’m quoting George now, but really coffee IS natural, and it IS fun! And for the other, well of course…
I’m rambling now, I know. I’m psycho like this. I believe my Friday morning coffee increases my focus and heightens my work efficiency by about 40%. A shame that the only work I do is actually not work, instead my various writing projects.
(I have this post, I have another post in the back of my mind, and I have another journal post to write… ahh! The words are coming at me and I have to get them down!)
Yes. I believe my word frequency increases by approximately 30% after a feel-good caffeine kick-start. I have no research to support these statistics, only my mad mind estimating.
Despite all this extra efficiency and keen alertness, I couldn’t for the life of me work out a math riddle this morning. And my simple equations, I freaking know, my friend:
A work colleague asked me to buy him a muffin from the café where I buy my cappuccino from. My regular coffee is $3.40. He gave me $5.00. When I bought the muffin and coffee, the guy said he’d give me the special price (of course) of $5.00. First I thought, ‘just the muffin?’ until I realised he meant BOTH, combined. That IS special.
So my task was to calculate the muffin price, right, to give my work colleague the correct change back. So $5.00 - $3.40 (being the price of my muffin, so far so good) = $1.60. No! $3.40 being the price of my coffee, damn it!
Ok so if his muffin cost $1.60, $5.00-$1.60=…$3.40. Fuck me. I gave him $1.60. I couldn’t freaking work out the equation standing there half an hour ago with my coffee warming my head. I mean my hand. (Argh) On paper it makes sense…
Ahh! I didn’t even do that right. I gave him $3.60, not $1.60. See? Even then I overpaid him 20 cents. Whatever man, whatever…
I’m so fucking confused right now. Even putting it on paper doesn’t make much sense.
See what coffee does? It makes me right, like all good, and makes me forget my math’s shit…
(The above were two obvious deliberate spelling/grammar mistakes, like duh, like as if I would ever… :) )
Rich, dark, coffeeeeeee
Goes to my headddddd
Makes me believe that I
Can conquer the worldddddddd…
This is so true. It is Friday morning, I have my coffee sitting at my right, conveniently next to my mouse so that instead of getting back to work I can just reach out and take in some warm and inviting goodness instead. Puh, work. On a Friday? Whatever.
Coffee is natural, coffee is fun, coffee is best when it’s ‘One on One.’
Ok so I’m quoting George now, but really coffee IS natural, and it IS fun! And for the other, well of course…
I’m rambling now, I know. I’m psycho like this. I believe my Friday morning coffee increases my focus and heightens my work efficiency by about 40%. A shame that the only work I do is actually not work, instead my various writing projects.
(I have this post, I have another post in the back of my mind, and I have another journal post to write… ahh! The words are coming at me and I have to get them down!)
Yes. I believe my word frequency increases by approximately 30% after a feel-good caffeine kick-start. I have no research to support these statistics, only my mad mind estimating.
Despite all this extra efficiency and keen alertness, I couldn’t for the life of me work out a math riddle this morning. And my simple equations, I freaking know, my friend:
A work colleague asked me to buy him a muffin from the café where I buy my cappuccino from. My regular coffee is $3.40. He gave me $5.00. When I bought the muffin and coffee, the guy said he’d give me the special price (of course) of $5.00. First I thought, ‘just the muffin?’ until I realised he meant BOTH, combined. That IS special.
So my task was to calculate the muffin price, right, to give my work colleague the correct change back. So $5.00 - $3.40 (being the price of my muffin, so far so good) = $1.60. No! $3.40 being the price of my coffee, damn it!
Ok so if his muffin cost $1.60, $5.00-$1.60=…$3.40. Fuck me. I gave him $1.60. I couldn’t freaking work out the equation standing there half an hour ago with my coffee warming my head. I mean my hand. (Argh) On paper it makes sense…
Ahh! I didn’t even do that right. I gave him $3.60, not $1.60. See? Even then I overpaid him 20 cents. Whatever man, whatever…
I’m so fucking confused right now. Even putting it on paper doesn’t make much sense.
See what coffee does? It makes me right, like all good, and makes me forget my math’s shit…
(The above were two obvious deliberate spelling/grammar mistakes, like duh, like as if I would ever… :) )
Monday, August 27, 2012
Monday Morning Brilliance at its absolute Mother F&^@ing best
I’ve just come back in to work after 2 weeks of glorious and relaxant mind-altering leave, to THIS:
Annoying prick (who I refuse to grant with an esteemed Miss S. blogger nickname because I hate to even think about let alone speak, or write about him) is up to me within minutes before I’ve even logged in and started previewing my 600 + emails, whining about fixing his shit work which he is incapable of even attempting to learn after his 20 years here.
Fellow no-show boy has called in sick. Notified via email.
And here I find myself doing work and fixing other people’s business before I’ve had a chance to finish my coffee.
How things don’t change.
But it’s ok, as Tony Montana says. It’s ok.
“Back to reality, if only temporarily, because everyone deserves to live their permanent fantasies...”
Annoying prick (who I refuse to grant with an esteemed Miss S. blogger nickname because I hate to even think about let alone speak, or write about him) is up to me within minutes before I’ve even logged in and started previewing my 600 + emails, whining about fixing his shit work which he is incapable of even attempting to learn after his 20 years here.
Fellow no-show boy has called in sick. Notified via email.
And here I find myself doing work and fixing other people’s business before I’ve had a chance to finish my coffee.
How things don’t change.
But it’s ok, as Tony Montana says. It’s ok.
“Back to reality, if only temporarily, because everyone deserves to live their permanent fantasies...”
Monday, July 30, 2012
Imagination can drive you to Insanity
I’ve come to a very unhealthy conclusion. My imagination is both my greatest strength as it is my Achilles heel.
I haven’t been writing creatively (as in story book writing) for a couple of weeks, as I try to leave my work alone, letting it stew in my head as I continue to get slow trickling feedback on my book via the few people who are actually reading it (more on that later). Apart from my blogging and other journaling, this removal from writing and thinking about my characters, the absence of being in their world and constantly thinking up inventive ways to make the work interesting, has given me TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Waaayyyyy too much time. And it’s not good. Not good at all.
Shit happens when I think too much. I over-analyse. I create bullshit scenarios in my head that aren’t true. I imagine how much better my life can be, when there is actually no problems in it (minus Motor-Mouth – there’s a name you haven’t heard in a while – but I’m just learning how to completely ignore her shit so all is relatively good there).
Just last week, I was talking to Densley on our morning coffee walk, and he mentioned a FB status of mine where I mentioned something about finding myself. He said to me “why would you be upset? You’ve got everything anyone could want in life!”
He completely stumped me there. Both for his frankness, and for apparently knowing me, or perceiving my life better than I was doing myself. I replied with a smile “maybe one day we can talk about it, I’ll tell you then.” Of course I was referring to my book, my upsets over work, and other projects Hubbie and I have going on in our personal life at home, but I didn’t wanna tell him that, as it’s all very private right now.
Yet I felt such a sudden awareness, a selfishness overcome me with his words, and I had to think “am I creating elephants out of ants as I usually do?” Am I really upset for no good reason at all?
It’s my freaking head. I need to write. I’ve had so many creative stories running through me for over a year now, that upon completion and failing to continue to use that now-trained part of my brain, I’m finding myself looking to create dramas and angst in my own life, when there is no reason to. There is no need to, but try telling the overused part of my head that, the part that like your mother wants to cook for you even when you have moved out of home.
The findings? Well I need to try and stop thinking, or start channelling these creativities into my next book, before I completely screw up my life and everything in it with my magical fixed-ness to unbroken things. I have sent off an email today to a prospective agent (everyone is prospective to me) hoping that they will like what I tell them about my story and ask to see some at the very least of my manuscript. I’m putting off checking my email for a response for as long as possible, trying not to get far ahead of myself. Maybe I should be putting my energies into writing up a good synopsis. Yet the thought terrifies me. Shudder.
On a partially connected note, I have been completely blown away by my sister’s response to my story. She is one of the busiest people I know, and I’m grateful just for the fact that she has agreed to look at it. But no, she’s gone further. She’s already read 3 chapters and is constantly giving me chapter by chapter feedback, despite her unyielding manic family schedule. And she likes it, she actually likes it, and no, she wouldn’t lie to me.
My sister is giving me what I thought Red would. As besties, Red and I have been inspiring each other about our respective passions for over a year now. It took her a week to actually pick up my manuscript and start reading from the day I actually gave it to her (she messaged me on Friday night when she said she turned the first page) yet I haven’t heard a thing from her since. I absolutely refuse to message her and ask what she thinks, in a kind of fear of what she’ll say, but I also feel it’s not up to me to say anything. I just can’t believe she hasn’t: this is so unlike her. I completely expected her to be all like “it’s good” if not “I love it!” but nothing. Is it that shit? Has she been busy? Did she start reading and then have to stop, and doesn’t want to give feedback on the first chapter until she’s finished it? But she would have messaged me that that was what’s happening! That’s the confusing thing!
It’s been going round and around in my head all weekend, and even Hubbie agrees it’s weird of her not to messaged me by now. She’s not the jealous type, and she has been so supportive through all of this, excited for me, telling me “I can’t wait to read it Miss S.!” And now… NOTHING! Nothing at all! I’m sticking to my guns and refusing to message her, and I will hold out for a long time (until I need to get my hair coloured which will be about a week and a half from now so until then I can’t message her…)
My sister and Red have had a complete role reversal. I didn’t expect my Sis to give me as much feedback as she has, and to be so enthusiastic as she has been because of how busy she is, and yet she has. At least I’m getting SOME positive feedback…
And then my other bestie, Blonde – I don’t even KNOW where in the world she is. I love her to bits, but I think she’s travelling somewhere in Europe, and I don’t know where or for how long. I want to tell her about finishing my book and catch up on her life, and she’s virtually in-contactable. (Apparently that’s not a word, but screw it).
Both my besties are MIA. And I have a head full of imagination to contend with. Just great.
I haven’t been writing creatively (as in story book writing) for a couple of weeks, as I try to leave my work alone, letting it stew in my head as I continue to get slow trickling feedback on my book via the few people who are actually reading it (more on that later). Apart from my blogging and other journaling, this removal from writing and thinking about my characters, the absence of being in their world and constantly thinking up inventive ways to make the work interesting, has given me TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Waaayyyyy too much time. And it’s not good. Not good at all.
Shit happens when I think too much. I over-analyse. I create bullshit scenarios in my head that aren’t true. I imagine how much better my life can be, when there is actually no problems in it (minus Motor-Mouth – there’s a name you haven’t heard in a while – but I’m just learning how to completely ignore her shit so all is relatively good there).
Just last week, I was talking to Densley on our morning coffee walk, and he mentioned a FB status of mine where I mentioned something about finding myself. He said to me “why would you be upset? You’ve got everything anyone could want in life!”
He completely stumped me there. Both for his frankness, and for apparently knowing me, or perceiving my life better than I was doing myself. I replied with a smile “maybe one day we can talk about it, I’ll tell you then.” Of course I was referring to my book, my upsets over work, and other projects Hubbie and I have going on in our personal life at home, but I didn’t wanna tell him that, as it’s all very private right now.
Yet I felt such a sudden awareness, a selfishness overcome me with his words, and I had to think “am I creating elephants out of ants as I usually do?” Am I really upset for no good reason at all?
It’s my freaking head. I need to write. I’ve had so many creative stories running through me for over a year now, that upon completion and failing to continue to use that now-trained part of my brain, I’m finding myself looking to create dramas and angst in my own life, when there is no reason to. There is no need to, but try telling the overused part of my head that, the part that like your mother wants to cook for you even when you have moved out of home.
The findings? Well I need to try and stop thinking, or start channelling these creativities into my next book, before I completely screw up my life and everything in it with my magical fixed-ness to unbroken things. I have sent off an email today to a prospective agent (everyone is prospective to me) hoping that they will like what I tell them about my story and ask to see some at the very least of my manuscript. I’m putting off checking my email for a response for as long as possible, trying not to get far ahead of myself. Maybe I should be putting my energies into writing up a good synopsis. Yet the thought terrifies me. Shudder.
On a partially connected note, I have been completely blown away by my sister’s response to my story. She is one of the busiest people I know, and I’m grateful just for the fact that she has agreed to look at it. But no, she’s gone further. She’s already read 3 chapters and is constantly giving me chapter by chapter feedback, despite her unyielding manic family schedule. And she likes it, she actually likes it, and no, she wouldn’t lie to me.
My sister is giving me what I thought Red would. As besties, Red and I have been inspiring each other about our respective passions for over a year now. It took her a week to actually pick up my manuscript and start reading from the day I actually gave it to her (she messaged me on Friday night when she said she turned the first page) yet I haven’t heard a thing from her since. I absolutely refuse to message her and ask what she thinks, in a kind of fear of what she’ll say, but I also feel it’s not up to me to say anything. I just can’t believe she hasn’t: this is so unlike her. I completely expected her to be all like “it’s good” if not “I love it!” but nothing. Is it that shit? Has she been busy? Did she start reading and then have to stop, and doesn’t want to give feedback on the first chapter until she’s finished it? But she would have messaged me that that was what’s happening! That’s the confusing thing!
It’s been going round and around in my head all weekend, and even Hubbie agrees it’s weird of her not to messaged me by now. She’s not the jealous type, and she has been so supportive through all of this, excited for me, telling me “I can’t wait to read it Miss S.!” And now… NOTHING! Nothing at all! I’m sticking to my guns and refusing to message her, and I will hold out for a long time (until I need to get my hair coloured which will be about a week and a half from now so until then I can’t message her…)
My sister and Red have had a complete role reversal. I didn’t expect my Sis to give me as much feedback as she has, and to be so enthusiastic as she has been because of how busy she is, and yet she has. At least I’m getting SOME positive feedback…
And then my other bestie, Blonde – I don’t even KNOW where in the world she is. I love her to bits, but I think she’s travelling somewhere in Europe, and I don’t know where or for how long. I want to tell her about finishing my book and catch up on her life, and she’s virtually in-contactable. (Apparently that’s not a word, but screw it).
Both my besties are MIA. And I have a head full of imagination to contend with. Just great.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
R-E-S-P-E-C-T sings Aretha, I sing…
A-P-P-R-E-C-I-A-T-I-O-N.
Well they’re kind of the same difference aren’t they? They both have the letters R, E, P, C, and T in them. Ooh make a new word, it spells CREPT.
But no, I’m not thinking of creeping. Appreciation is the key. It’s something I’ve been thinking of a lot lately. I hate jumping on these negatively geared bandwagons when it comes to my current work, but honestly, it’s so hard not to.
My boss had to go on sick leave like a gazillion months ago. Before you say anything, I AM sensitive to her situation, but the way the powers-that-be handled it, I am most definitely not.
Then her little man, let’s call him the second in charge, 2IC if you may, went on leave himself for over a month. That left the reigns to myself and the rest of the team, and without blowing my own horn here, let’s face it, I and I alone was the one thrown with the crap and responsibility of taking-care-of-business duties.
As with last year, when the same boss was on sick leave, and the same 2IC went on leave (it was only a week then, but I was petrified of failing somehow in my job the entire long 5 days) I had pretty much no assistance or guidance THE ENTIRE TIME. The team were of course brilliant. Sometimes they pissed me off, but only when I had to practically spoon-feed some to the point of “when I send an email saying do A, please do A, rather than X which is what you’re doing now. Or else I’ll cut off your hands.” (I really did think of sending an email about dislodging hands, no joke).
But otherwise when I asked, they helped, which was great, seeing as no one else helped me. My boss’s boss (who I’ve previously referred to in this blog as the grand-daddy boss – ew) wasn’t on leave though, as with last year when we had the same circumstance. And once again, he completely blended into the background to just sit and watch everything unfold.
You might say ‘but you need to speak up.’ On the ONE occasion this time that I asked him something, he responded very coldly, and I reminded myself to never ask him a question again. It was about whether I was required to attend a certain meeting. These meetings are pure bullshit, and just an excuse to step out of the work area and do NOTHING, as most work meetings are, right?
I thought I could stop attending, because our boss who was on sick leave was now participating in these meetings via phone conference. And seeing I was attending in her absence, and now she no longer was absent… I thought I’d give it a shot to see I could be given the kind privilege of being excused and doing some actual work with so many people in our department on leave and sick leave.
But no. I was told I should still attend. Very briskly if I might add. I thought this quite irritating, and also very amusing in some offended way of mine. He barely acknowledges me in the meetings and around the workplace. I felt this made even more apparent yesterday when he walked by me to deliberately talk to some other team members, advising them of some technical issues we’re having. He was addressing them, when I was right to his side.
I don’t believe he does it deliberately, but I do believe he has no fucking idea how to speak to women who are straight. I’m sorry to offend anyone out there, and I’m definitely not going to stereotype and project this to all gay men, because I know some who actually can speak to women normally, but this grand-daddy has no female-sensitive bone in his body.
No problems talking to the gay guys. Hey, give them a pat on the back, laugh and find excuses to talk, even organise your gay parties for gay-only employees and decorate your house with penises and other phallic instruments, because hey, that’s not considered unethical in any way or workplace sexual harassment especially when you tell these gay men they have to come because you’ve changed the date of the party so they can come.
No, not weird at all.
Even the lesbian chicks. Yeah, they’re cool, they get it. They like chicks, but it’s different, you don’t have to compete with them, true grand-daddy?
But the straight girls? Heaven help me work out why he can’t speak to me, especially when I’m married, and he’s told me he wants me to step up and become my boss’s right-hand person. I’m the best fucking worker he’ll ever lose when I say sayonara to this place and embark on my fantastic passion-fuelled writing career, and he won’t even realise it until I walk into his office and say “do you have a minute?”
I don’t mean this to become an issue on sexual orientation. I know there are people out there who don’t base their work relationships and friendships on a person’s preference to how they wish to live their life – hell I don’t, some of the people I best get along with are gay/lesbian. But unfortunately, and I’m not the only one to see this around here too, grand-daddy does. Whether he is in acknowledgement of his preferential treatment or not, I don’t know, but it’s still not fair.
I know had I been a lesbian, or a gay male, or even just male, he would have been doting all over me while I was in charge. He would have made sure I was ok, checked in to see how I was going, and offered advice in some troubling situations (and there were many). Instead he barked orders at me the few times he did realise I was there, and completely ignored me the rest of the time, to the point that I believed if I didn’t turn up to work, he wouldn’t even know, because apparently, I’M INVISIBLE.
But of course, in accordance with Murphy’s Law, the mofo would have realised, and I would have gotten in trouble, of course. Because I’m straight.
It makes me feel sad, because everything I do at work is to the best of my abilities. I don’t want to brag, but I’m a great worker: I care about my work, and I’m a perfectionist. I know I plan on leaving this place (how sweet that day will be) but while I’m here, I would like to be acknowledged. Appreciated. Respected. I didn’t really expect an all-round pay-rise, but hey, maybe a pay rise/bonus during the time I was in charge would have been really good. It would have made me feel that my contribution here is worthwhile, that I am noticed. But nope nothing. And you know what? Even my team thinks I should have gotten a pay rise. Quite a few of them have told me that individually, and it’s even good knowing that SOMEONE – albeit not the guy who gives out the cash, but still – thinks I’m worthy.
No money though. Not even so much as a thank you from my boss who came back from sick leave. I understand she has her own stuff to deal with, being sick and all, but all I would have wanted was a thank you. Instead I got a joking thank you about her now going to the dreaded meetings instead of me, and I think her joke was in response to an angry status I put on my FB about the importance of appreciation. I don’t care if she thinks I’m having a dig at work, at grand-daddy, at her even. Because I am having a dig. And what they did was just wrong, wrong, wrong.
When I’m running my own business, I’ll never treat my employees this disrespectfully. I’ll say, please, thank you, and appreciate them for every day of work they do. And give them days off for their birthdays.
That’s the problem with big corporations you see. They get so big, that they can’t see the ants at the bottom turning the massive wheel. They don’t even care when they ‘accidentally’ step on them with their humongous boots in the process…
Well they’re kind of the same difference aren’t they? They both have the letters R, E, P, C, and T in them. Ooh make a new word, it spells CREPT.
But no, I’m not thinking of creeping. Appreciation is the key. It’s something I’ve been thinking of a lot lately. I hate jumping on these negatively geared bandwagons when it comes to my current work, but honestly, it’s so hard not to.
My boss had to go on sick leave like a gazillion months ago. Before you say anything, I AM sensitive to her situation, but the way the powers-that-be handled it, I am most definitely not.
Then her little man, let’s call him the second in charge, 2IC if you may, went on leave himself for over a month. That left the reigns to myself and the rest of the team, and without blowing my own horn here, let’s face it, I and I alone was the one thrown with the crap and responsibility of taking-care-of-business duties.
As with last year, when the same boss was on sick leave, and the same 2IC went on leave (it was only a week then, but I was petrified of failing somehow in my job the entire long 5 days) I had pretty much no assistance or guidance THE ENTIRE TIME. The team were of course brilliant. Sometimes they pissed me off, but only when I had to practically spoon-feed some to the point of “when I send an email saying do A, please do A, rather than X which is what you’re doing now. Or else I’ll cut off your hands.” (I really did think of sending an email about dislodging hands, no joke).
But otherwise when I asked, they helped, which was great, seeing as no one else helped me. My boss’s boss (who I’ve previously referred to in this blog as the grand-daddy boss – ew) wasn’t on leave though, as with last year when we had the same circumstance. And once again, he completely blended into the background to just sit and watch everything unfold.
You might say ‘but you need to speak up.’ On the ONE occasion this time that I asked him something, he responded very coldly, and I reminded myself to never ask him a question again. It was about whether I was required to attend a certain meeting. These meetings are pure bullshit, and just an excuse to step out of the work area and do NOTHING, as most work meetings are, right?
I thought I could stop attending, because our boss who was on sick leave was now participating in these meetings via phone conference. And seeing I was attending in her absence, and now she no longer was absent… I thought I’d give it a shot to see I could be given the kind privilege of being excused and doing some actual work with so many people in our department on leave and sick leave.
But no. I was told I should still attend. Very briskly if I might add. I thought this quite irritating, and also very amusing in some offended way of mine. He barely acknowledges me in the meetings and around the workplace. I felt this made even more apparent yesterday when he walked by me to deliberately talk to some other team members, advising them of some technical issues we’re having. He was addressing them, when I was right to his side.
I don’t believe he does it deliberately, but I do believe he has no fucking idea how to speak to women who are straight. I’m sorry to offend anyone out there, and I’m definitely not going to stereotype and project this to all gay men, because I know some who actually can speak to women normally, but this grand-daddy has no female-sensitive bone in his body.
No problems talking to the gay guys. Hey, give them a pat on the back, laugh and find excuses to talk, even organise your gay parties for gay-only employees and decorate your house with penises and other phallic instruments, because hey, that’s not considered unethical in any way or workplace sexual harassment especially when you tell these gay men they have to come because you’ve changed the date of the party so they can come.
No, not weird at all.
Even the lesbian chicks. Yeah, they’re cool, they get it. They like chicks, but it’s different, you don’t have to compete with them, true grand-daddy?
But the straight girls? Heaven help me work out why he can’t speak to me, especially when I’m married, and he’s told me he wants me to step up and become my boss’s right-hand person. I’m the best fucking worker he’ll ever lose when I say sayonara to this place and embark on my fantastic passion-fuelled writing career, and he won’t even realise it until I walk into his office and say “do you have a minute?”
I don’t mean this to become an issue on sexual orientation. I know there are people out there who don’t base their work relationships and friendships on a person’s preference to how they wish to live their life – hell I don’t, some of the people I best get along with are gay/lesbian. But unfortunately, and I’m not the only one to see this around here too, grand-daddy does. Whether he is in acknowledgement of his preferential treatment or not, I don’t know, but it’s still not fair.
I know had I been a lesbian, or a gay male, or even just male, he would have been doting all over me while I was in charge. He would have made sure I was ok, checked in to see how I was going, and offered advice in some troubling situations (and there were many). Instead he barked orders at me the few times he did realise I was there, and completely ignored me the rest of the time, to the point that I believed if I didn’t turn up to work, he wouldn’t even know, because apparently, I’M INVISIBLE.
But of course, in accordance with Murphy’s Law, the mofo would have realised, and I would have gotten in trouble, of course. Because I’m straight.
It makes me feel sad, because everything I do at work is to the best of my abilities. I don’t want to brag, but I’m a great worker: I care about my work, and I’m a perfectionist. I know I plan on leaving this place (how sweet that day will be) but while I’m here, I would like to be acknowledged. Appreciated. Respected. I didn’t really expect an all-round pay-rise, but hey, maybe a pay rise/bonus during the time I was in charge would have been really good. It would have made me feel that my contribution here is worthwhile, that I am noticed. But nope nothing. And you know what? Even my team thinks I should have gotten a pay rise. Quite a few of them have told me that individually, and it’s even good knowing that SOMEONE – albeit not the guy who gives out the cash, but still – thinks I’m worthy.
No money though. Not even so much as a thank you from my boss who came back from sick leave. I understand she has her own stuff to deal with, being sick and all, but all I would have wanted was a thank you. Instead I got a joking thank you about her now going to the dreaded meetings instead of me, and I think her joke was in response to an angry status I put on my FB about the importance of appreciation. I don’t care if she thinks I’m having a dig at work, at grand-daddy, at her even. Because I am having a dig. And what they did was just wrong, wrong, wrong.
When I’m running my own business, I’ll never treat my employees this disrespectfully. I’ll say, please, thank you, and appreciate them for every day of work they do. And give them days off for their birthdays.
That’s the problem with big corporations you see. They get so big, that they can’t see the ants at the bottom turning the massive wheel. They don’t even care when they ‘accidentally’ step on them with their humongous boots in the process…
Monday, July 9, 2012
I'm the missing Pointer sister…
Too right I am. I’m not sure if I’m the 3rd, or 4th, or even the 5th member (I believe they have had a number of various sisters part of their group at various times), but for popularities sake, let’s go with when they were at their peak. That would make me the 4th member then.
And I’m so excited.
It’s Monday, and I have a couple of hours ‘til I finish work. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to pack my bags here, I can’t wait to make the 15 minute walk to the car park. I can’t wait to drive home, singing and smiling to myself in the car. I can’t wait to prepare dinner, then eat it, and share catch-up conversation with Hubbie on his day today.
I can’t wait to give him a big huh, and a great big passionate kiss. I can’t wait for all of those things.
But one thing I can’t wait for most: I can’t wait to start print on my official finished copy of my book.
:-D :-D :-D
Last night I made the last minor additions. There are some things I had to very briefly research today, but it was so quick, that I don’t really have to add anything to the story, I just need to check one thing, and then press the P button.
:-D :-D :-D
I am soooo excited. I’m giddy, nervous, jumpy and happy. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, the moment when I can say to myself “I’ve done the best I can” and hand over a copy of it to someone I love to be critiqued. That thought makes me sick, as it does happy. I’m ready for it, and I can’t believe the day has come, 1 year and 4 months after starting the book, almost 2 years since having the idea of actually writing a book pop into my mind.
It’s such an arduous, mentally-draining process, and I loved it all. It was inspiring, it was thrilling, and I was amazed at how at times the book seemed to write itself. It was a magical, suspenseful, invigorating experience, and I can’t wait to start it all again.
This is only the beginning.
The thought of handing over my work, my pain, my toil, my passion…
I think I might just start crying tonight from happiness…
:-D
And I’m so excited.
It’s Monday, and I have a couple of hours ‘til I finish work. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to pack my bags here, I can’t wait to make the 15 minute walk to the car park. I can’t wait to drive home, singing and smiling to myself in the car. I can’t wait to prepare dinner, then eat it, and share catch-up conversation with Hubbie on his day today.
I can’t wait to give him a big huh, and a great big passionate kiss. I can’t wait for all of those things.
But one thing I can’t wait for most: I can’t wait to start print on my official finished copy of my book.
:-D :-D :-D
Last night I made the last minor additions. There are some things I had to very briefly research today, but it was so quick, that I don’t really have to add anything to the story, I just need to check one thing, and then press the P button.
:-D :-D :-D
I am soooo excited. I’m giddy, nervous, jumpy and happy. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, the moment when I can say to myself “I’ve done the best I can” and hand over a copy of it to someone I love to be critiqued. That thought makes me sick, as it does happy. I’m ready for it, and I can’t believe the day has come, 1 year and 4 months after starting the book, almost 2 years since having the idea of actually writing a book pop into my mind.
It’s such an arduous, mentally-draining process, and I loved it all. It was inspiring, it was thrilling, and I was amazed at how at times the book seemed to write itself. It was a magical, suspenseful, invigorating experience, and I can’t wait to start it all again.
This is only the beginning.
The thought of handing over my work, my pain, my toil, my passion…
I think I might just start crying tonight from happiness…
:-D
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Speculating about the Ordinary
I haven’t been blogging so much as of late. There’s so much going on in my life, and so you might say ‘oh yeah you’re busy.’ It happens in blog world. There are times where you get all hyped up and blog like crazy, constantly looking around you for blog inspiration, to the point where you’re at work, doing the best blogging you’ve ever done in your life, completely forgetting to do any actual work.
With all the busy-ness, you’d think that when I actually do get time, that I’d have something to write about. No, nothing.
I was thinking about it yesterday. There is so much going on in my life, and I finally made the effort to link the two together after a convo I was having with Hubbie yesterday. I was telling him how after seeing my relos on the weekend, I was hanging for the day when I could say “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!”
Well, not as such those words. But whenever they ask me “so, what’s new?” All I want to say is EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING has been going on. Instead I go “ahh, not much.”
All the life-changing things that are going on, the things that Hubbie and I plan for, and talk about, my deepest secrets and plans, all of it, are things that I’m not telling anyone. Actually no I lie. The one thing that a small circle of people know about is my book. And whoever has read about it in the blogger-verse, but that I don’t really count that because no one knows who I actually am, and I want to keep it that way. :)
My book. I can’t wait to start this new chapter of my life, (pardon the pun) and move on from this job. I’m so over it. Ok, I’m putting it out there: I’M SO OVER IT. I want to be my own boss, do my own thing, and make my passion, my work, my job. Wouldn’t that be the most glorious thing? Going to work in the morning (down the stairs at home or to the local café which our friends own with my laptop) and doing what I love - writing -all day every day? Having that freedom, to live life as I want – that’s what I aspire to. That’s the dream.
And I just want it to be out there! I’ve finished the second draft, I’m doing fixes, but I feel like I have no time, I need solid blocks of free time to do all my read-throughs and make sure everything connects. I can’t wait to send it out, I seriously can’t wait.
And I can’t wait to scream out to the world: I am an author! But until things are settled, and until it’s actually happening, I need to be patient, and take my time – do things properly.
So in the meantime I say to people “hmm, not much.”
And on top of that, I feel like I have even less reason to blog, because I’ve started a kind of a diary – I did consider making it into another blog, but due to the contents and my hopeful plans for it, I’m keeping it on the low, for now.
Writing book + writing secret journal = not too much time for random blog.
And so you can see why the hell I can’t say anything. It’s so annoying!
“So yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“Ahh, can’t say. Oh there’s – nope can’t tell you that either. Oh and - nope sorry.”
That’s the bullshit conversation I want to avoid.
I feel so boring around other people, yet my insides want to burst with excitement. It’s hard. Hubbie and I have things we’re hoping for, and we have things we’re kind of guessing on, but until certain things actually develop and certain circumstances come into fruition, we’ve been standing around, kind of in a state of nothingness, smiling and nodding, saying “Oh, good!”
But our day will come. Too right it will.
With all the busy-ness, you’d think that when I actually do get time, that I’d have something to write about. No, nothing.
I was thinking about it yesterday. There is so much going on in my life, and I finally made the effort to link the two together after a convo I was having with Hubbie yesterday. I was telling him how after seeing my relos on the weekend, I was hanging for the day when I could say “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!”
Well, not as such those words. But whenever they ask me “so, what’s new?” All I want to say is EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING has been going on. Instead I go “ahh, not much.”
All the life-changing things that are going on, the things that Hubbie and I plan for, and talk about, my deepest secrets and plans, all of it, are things that I’m not telling anyone. Actually no I lie. The one thing that a small circle of people know about is my book. And whoever has read about it in the blogger-verse, but that I don’t really count that because no one knows who I actually am, and I want to keep it that way. :)
My book. I can’t wait to start this new chapter of my life, (pardon the pun) and move on from this job. I’m so over it. Ok, I’m putting it out there: I’M SO OVER IT. I want to be my own boss, do my own thing, and make my passion, my work, my job. Wouldn’t that be the most glorious thing? Going to work in the morning (down the stairs at home or to the local café which our friends own with my laptop) and doing what I love - writing -all day every day? Having that freedom, to live life as I want – that’s what I aspire to. That’s the dream.
And I just want it to be out there! I’ve finished the second draft, I’m doing fixes, but I feel like I have no time, I need solid blocks of free time to do all my read-throughs and make sure everything connects. I can’t wait to send it out, I seriously can’t wait.
And I can’t wait to scream out to the world: I am an author! But until things are settled, and until it’s actually happening, I need to be patient, and take my time – do things properly.
So in the meantime I say to people “hmm, not much.”
And on top of that, I feel like I have even less reason to blog, because I’ve started a kind of a diary – I did consider making it into another blog, but due to the contents and my hopeful plans for it, I’m keeping it on the low, for now.
Writing book + writing secret journal = not too much time for random blog.
And so you can see why the hell I can’t say anything. It’s so annoying!
“So yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“Ahh, can’t say. Oh there’s – nope can’t tell you that either. Oh and - nope sorry.”
That’s the bullshit conversation I want to avoid.
I feel so boring around other people, yet my insides want to burst with excitement. It’s hard. Hubbie and I have things we’re hoping for, and we have things we’re kind of guessing on, but until certain things actually develop and certain circumstances come into fruition, we’ve been standing around, kind of in a state of nothingness, smiling and nodding, saying “Oh, good!”
But our day will come. Too right it will.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Glass half-full Gal
All I remember is that my last post was about something where I was trying to be funny and light-hearted despite the world-turning that’s been going on since the beginning of the year.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
My Blonde Moment
Ha. That suggests I’ve never had others.
I feel like I have the privileged authority of calling attention to blonde moments, because I’ve been blonde before. It wasn’t an all over one tone blonde, but I had that many streaks going through my hair, that when I looked back at those photos of me years later, I was like “Woah. I was like really blonde.”
I’ve now gone from a dark brown (already my hair colour) to a deep red. Anyone who has gone from dark hair to red, knows that the colour ends up being more like a deep burgundy that can only really be seen in sunlight, well-lit areas and in the shower when you see the colour running away down the drain.
I’m melting, I’m melting.
Red says it will take me several more go’s to get my hair a brighter red, which I intend on following through with. I feel like getting a bit crazy.
Anyway, enough with the hair. Onto the moment.
There’s this cheap car park (or should I say long street of angled parking) about a 5 minute walk to my work, which I try get to when I drive in. It seems that the more time goes by, the more people seem to be discovering it, and are getting there at ridiculous times in order to nab a spot, even though their work shifts don’t start for a while. I know this because I am that one such person.
Today I got there just under half hour before my early morning shift. That time a couple of days ago, there were perhaps 6-7 spots left. Today at the exact same time, the last spot was just being taken. Grrr.
To make matters worse, the person getting the last spot just kind of hovered there with their indicator on, not turning into it until I drove past. Annoying. Trying to rub it in huh?
So I had to go to my back-up plan. This other open car park that I used to park at for years before I discovered the cheaper one, is half the distance. So despite being double the price, there is that one benefit. Only annoying thing about it is, you have to pay into this stupid machine that only takes coins, or credit card.
Well I didn’t come prepared with enough coins, did I? I’d paid via credit there before, so pulling up to the stupid machine in the pitch-black morning, I pulled out my blue card from my wallet, and inserted it.
The machine told me to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I had no ticket, and the damn boom gate hadn’t moved.
So again.
I put the card in. The machine said to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I still had no ticket, and the damn boom gate still hadn’t moved.
I repeated this about another 4 times I think. Frustration and anxiety building at every moment because another car was waiting behind me. After he high-beamed, and after one more failed attempt, I got out of the car to ask him for help. Maybe I was putting in the card wrong, though I was doing it the way the machine illustration was telling me to.
“Sorry,” I started.
“Can you reverse, so I can try?” he asked briskly.
“Yeah.” I walked back to my car, upset, and reversed to the side. I watched as he put in his card, and within moments, he was through the boom gate.
At this stage the guy who works at the car park arrived. Feeling a bit better, knowing if it didn’t work he could perhaps help me out, I went forward again.
I tried again.
The machine told me to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I had no ticket, and the damn boom gate hadn’t moved.
So I called out “excuse me.”
He came over. “Oh, what have you done now. You come back once in a blue moon and you can’t work the machine.”
Grrrr.
“I’ve done this like 6 times, and it keeps saying it’s authorising, then it goes back to normal. I just hope it hasn’t charged me all those times.”
“No, it shouldn’t, only if it goes through all the way.”
“Am I putting it in right?”
As I handed him my card, he looked at it and said “hmm, it’s a debit card.”
“It’s a credit card,” I confirmed, and as I said that I looked at the card as he handed it back to me.
It’s my freaking car insurance member card.
“Uh, maybe another credit card will work,” I fumbled as I ripped out my actual genuine credit card, while he walked behind the back of the stand.
I watched the machine with anticipation, feeling like a complete idiot, sooooo glad the guy hadn’t worked it out yet. If he had, he would’ve paid me out, BIG TIME.
The machine made a ringing noise as it displayed ‘wait for your ticket.’
And then the gate opened.
I felt like a complete tool. Both cards are blue, and were sitting relatively close to each other in my wallet. It was an easy mistake I guess, but seriously, all I could think in that moment was.
What a blonde.
It’s also like the time I typed in my Eftpos card password into the alarm code at my previous job, crying out ‘why won’t you turn off?’ while the alarm chimed loudly threatening to go off at any moment.
10 seconds of fear later and my comprehension kicked in. I was getting my monthlies, blame them.
I feel like I have the privileged authority of calling attention to blonde moments, because I’ve been blonde before. It wasn’t an all over one tone blonde, but I had that many streaks going through my hair, that when I looked back at those photos of me years later, I was like “Woah. I was like really blonde.”
I’ve now gone from a dark brown (already my hair colour) to a deep red. Anyone who has gone from dark hair to red, knows that the colour ends up being more like a deep burgundy that can only really be seen in sunlight, well-lit areas and in the shower when you see the colour running away down the drain.
I’m melting, I’m melting.
Red says it will take me several more go’s to get my hair a brighter red, which I intend on following through with. I feel like getting a bit crazy.
Anyway, enough with the hair. Onto the moment.
There’s this cheap car park (or should I say long street of angled parking) about a 5 minute walk to my work, which I try get to when I drive in. It seems that the more time goes by, the more people seem to be discovering it, and are getting there at ridiculous times in order to nab a spot, even though their work shifts don’t start for a while. I know this because I am that one such person.
Today I got there just under half hour before my early morning shift. That time a couple of days ago, there were perhaps 6-7 spots left. Today at the exact same time, the last spot was just being taken. Grrr.
To make matters worse, the person getting the last spot just kind of hovered there with their indicator on, not turning into it until I drove past. Annoying. Trying to rub it in huh?
So I had to go to my back-up plan. This other open car park that I used to park at for years before I discovered the cheaper one, is half the distance. So despite being double the price, there is that one benefit. Only annoying thing about it is, you have to pay into this stupid machine that only takes coins, or credit card.
Well I didn’t come prepared with enough coins, did I? I’d paid via credit there before, so pulling up to the stupid machine in the pitch-black morning, I pulled out my blue card from my wallet, and inserted it.
The machine told me to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I had no ticket, and the damn boom gate hadn’t moved.
So again.
I put the card in. The machine said to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I still had no ticket, and the damn boom gate still hadn’t moved.
I repeated this about another 4 times I think. Frustration and anxiety building at every moment because another car was waiting behind me. After he high-beamed, and after one more failed attempt, I got out of the car to ask him for help. Maybe I was putting in the card wrong, though I was doing it the way the machine illustration was telling me to.
“Sorry,” I started.
“Can you reverse, so I can try?” he asked briskly.
“Yeah.” I walked back to my car, upset, and reversed to the side. I watched as he put in his card, and within moments, he was through the boom gate.
At this stage the guy who works at the car park arrived. Feeling a bit better, knowing if it didn’t work he could perhaps help me out, I went forward again.
I tried again.
The machine told me to ‘hold card in until told otherwise.’
Then it said ‘remove card.’
Then it said, ‘wait, card authorising.’
Then the screen went back to normal, I had no ticket, and the damn boom gate hadn’t moved.
So I called out “excuse me.”
He came over. “Oh, what have you done now. You come back once in a blue moon and you can’t work the machine.”
Grrrr.
“I’ve done this like 6 times, and it keeps saying it’s authorising, then it goes back to normal. I just hope it hasn’t charged me all those times.”
“No, it shouldn’t, only if it goes through all the way.”
“Am I putting it in right?”
As I handed him my card, he looked at it and said “hmm, it’s a debit card.”
“It’s a credit card,” I confirmed, and as I said that I looked at the card as he handed it back to me.
It’s my freaking car insurance member card.
“Uh, maybe another credit card will work,” I fumbled as I ripped out my actual genuine credit card, while he walked behind the back of the stand.
I watched the machine with anticipation, feeling like a complete idiot, sooooo glad the guy hadn’t worked it out yet. If he had, he would’ve paid me out, BIG TIME.
The machine made a ringing noise as it displayed ‘wait for your ticket.’
And then the gate opened.
I felt like a complete tool. Both cards are blue, and were sitting relatively close to each other in my wallet. It was an easy mistake I guess, but seriously, all I could think in that moment was.
What a blonde.
It’s also like the time I typed in my Eftpos card password into the alarm code at my previous job, crying out ‘why won’t you turn off?’ while the alarm chimed loudly threatening to go off at any moment.
10 seconds of fear later and my comprehension kicked in. I was getting my monthlies, blame them.
Monday, January 23, 2012
13
Often the number 13 evokes a sense of intense fear and danger by those who come across it in their everyday lives. The number brings forth images of black cats, women pinned to stakes, ladders, breaking mirrors and just a general feel of ominous doom. Whether you come across it in calculating finances, planning a party, or choosing a house or car, if something is suggestive towards this lowly-regarded number being the sum of whatever it is you're doing, chances are that at first sight of it you'll be running for the hills, far far away, along with the rest of herd.
I, usually, am part of this herd.
If we're looking at houses, I won't want one that has 13 in the address. With cars, I add up the numbers on the reg: if the total comes to 13, again, I consider it a bad sign. (Don't get me started on cars with three of the same number, the number that comes after 5 but before 7 - shudder).
I don't know why I tend to diverge from this number. I think over time I've just gone along with the flow and joined in with the rest of the hype about the number: I've actually heard that Italians consider it a lucky number. Growing up, Red had a bit of a fear about it, and she kept seeing signs of it everywhere: dates, the time, even the number of letters in her first and last name added up to 13. (Teenage girls have a lot of time on their hands).
Another friend I grew up with, got her first period on Friday the 13th. Faaaarrrrrrr. She was secretly rapt, I know, being a bit of a late bloomer and all, but I was just like "What? Friday the 13th? Of all days?!"
I've ended up having my birthday on the 13th a couple of times, just the way the dates worked out that year, and I can't say anything really horrible happened. But if given the option, I would always go for the other option, rather than outright choose something with 13 associated with it.
(I think the stories of my parents upbringing got me really superstitious and stuff too.)
However, I'm starting to see things differently. Today is a 13 number for me, and a great number at that.
Including today, I only have 13 more working days until I go on leave next month.
:-D! :-D! :-D!
YIPPEE for me! I am so excited. When I start preparing my to-do list of holiday stuff, I think I might spontaneously explode with the amount of items I will be potentially ticking off.
And because Hubbie isn't able to take holidays with me, as he has only recently started a new job, I will be on my own, getting lots of little bullshit jobs done. I'll be organising photos, cleaning windows, sorting through recipes and indexing them, throwing out old bills, EVERYTHING!
You think I'm crazy now don't you? You think I'm going to devote my time off to just cleaning the house? No siree!
I'm gonna be catching up with my parents, my sister, my cousins, my extended family, my friends, the works! On Hubbie's days off, we're going to go out and not come home until it's dark! I'm going to be watching my fave tv shows and movies 'til REALLY late at night, because I won't have work the next day! I'll be shopping, trying on dresses with Red for her wedding, going to parks, to the beach, eating out and most important drinking coffee and eating cake and ice cream!
!!!!!
I am going to do it all, whenever, however and wherever I like! :-D
Oh, and I almost forget. I'll be finishing off my book then too, you know that story I keep mentioning. Yeah......
:-D
Which brings me to another 13. I finished chapter 12 last night.
:-D :-D :-D
I, usually, am part of this herd.
If we're looking at houses, I won't want one that has 13 in the address. With cars, I add up the numbers on the reg: if the total comes to 13, again, I consider it a bad sign. (Don't get me started on cars with three of the same number, the number that comes after 5 but before 7 - shudder).
I don't know why I tend to diverge from this number. I think over time I've just gone along with the flow and joined in with the rest of the hype about the number: I've actually heard that Italians consider it a lucky number. Growing up, Red had a bit of a fear about it, and she kept seeing signs of it everywhere: dates, the time, even the number of letters in her first and last name added up to 13. (Teenage girls have a lot of time on their hands).
Another friend I grew up with, got her first period on Friday the 13th. Faaaarrrrrrr. She was secretly rapt, I know, being a bit of a late bloomer and all, but I was just like "What? Friday the 13th? Of all days?!"
I've ended up having my birthday on the 13th a couple of times, just the way the dates worked out that year, and I can't say anything really horrible happened. But if given the option, I would always go for the other option, rather than outright choose something with 13 associated with it.
(I think the stories of my parents upbringing got me really superstitious and stuff too.)
However, I'm starting to see things differently. Today is a 13 number for me, and a great number at that.
Including today, I only have 13 more working days until I go on leave next month.
:-D! :-D! :-D!
YIPPEE for me! I am so excited. When I start preparing my to-do list of holiday stuff, I think I might spontaneously explode with the amount of items I will be potentially ticking off.
And because Hubbie isn't able to take holidays with me, as he has only recently started a new job, I will be on my own, getting lots of little bullshit jobs done. I'll be organising photos, cleaning windows, sorting through recipes and indexing them, throwing out old bills, EVERYTHING!
You think I'm crazy now don't you? You think I'm going to devote my time off to just cleaning the house? No siree!
I'm gonna be catching up with my parents, my sister, my cousins, my extended family, my friends, the works! On Hubbie's days off, we're going to go out and not come home until it's dark! I'm going to be watching my fave tv shows and movies 'til REALLY late at night, because I won't have work the next day! I'll be shopping, trying on dresses with Red for her wedding, going to parks, to the beach, eating out and most important drinking coffee and eating cake and ice cream!
!!!!!
I am going to do it all, whenever, however and wherever I like! :-D
Oh, and I almost forget. I'll be finishing off my book then too, you know that story I keep mentioning. Yeah......
:-D
Which brings me to another 13. I finished chapter 12 last night.
:-D :-D :-D
Friday, January 20, 2012
WOW.
So yesterday I was all pathetic and shit, but today I've turned over a new leaf. It does not fail my notice that although I try to live my life in the highest regard and in line with the law of attraction, that I still have monumental DOWN days. I think the fact that I do try so hard to better my life, that it indeed causes these seriously depressing moments. When I'm high, I'm flying, and when I'm down, well.... I won't finish that.
Also, the fact that I get up so early during the week, leaves me feeling drained: even though I feel it physically, the emotinal side takes it toll. Does it ever. By the end of the week I can be crabby, over-sensitive, and finding fault in the smallest of things. Like the last couple of days.
When a few things don't go to plan, or when a few things get to me, they combine into a rolling ball of moss, accelerating down the steep hill of my brain, until finally, when it hits the bottom with a large bang, I end up broken. Completely broken, shattered, and in a deep ditch of dirt.
But, aided today by my true and trusted friend 'proper coffee' I am definitely looking up.
:)
Just send Hubbie this message: "Hi, I'm Miss S (group says 'Hi Miss S') and I have a coffee addiction."
I'm a bit whacked out today, being a Friday and all. As you can probably tell.
So I'm here to talk positive, and to put a bit of perspective on something I mentioned yesterday.
So yes. I didn't ask for a pay rise. I didn't prepare myself, the night before it I had other heavy things on my mind, and it led to me feeling completely unprepared for the work review I had. I'm not usually like that, I'm super-organised, and like Hubbie coached to me last night, I have to learn from the experience.
Yes I will learn. I guess it's just hard because I'm not even sure what was the right thing to do: to ask or not to ask? That IS the question. However I have to believe that I did the right thing, and if not, that I will get another opportunity at monetary rewards, if not through this work, then through another (hint, hint, clears throat loudly 'ahem, book *cough* my story *cough*).
:)
And one more thing. What I was supposed to talk about yesterday.
I get cranky at times, when I notice people staring at me. It just really annoys me. Sure, look, glance around. But don't continue to ogle me, or to totally stare me down into a hole as I walk on by. I don't care what the reasons are, I find it rude and slightly intimidating to know someone is totally giving me the once over.
Though a couple of mornings ago, walking to work 6:30 in the morning, I saw two tradies approaching me from the other side. I knew how I was dressed, and knew that it may get some notice. I wasn't dressed inappropriately or anything, but you know when the clothes you wear portray a certain look? Anyway, I kepy my eyes straight ahead as I walked on by, being careful not to make any eye contact, because hey, you can't encourage them in anyway. Who knows what might happen then.
Even though my eyes were forward, I could see them looking at me as they walked past. And I heard from one of them, lowly, "Wow."
Wow. I thought about it some more as I kept walking, wondering whether I was upset at being ogled at again. But you know what? I took it for what it was, as a freaking damn fantastic compliment. WOW. I think that's one of the best compliments ever. One word, so simple. Wow.
As I said to Hubbie, when I'm pregnant one day, I'm sure I won't have guys whistling, tooting their car horns or making remarks about me when I walk by, so I'll take all the Wow's I can right now.
I'm going to take it in, and appreciate it as much as possible.
What a wonderful, brilliant, spectacular, mood-lifting, heart-warming post to get me into the weekend :-D
WOW!
Also, the fact that I get up so early during the week, leaves me feeling drained: even though I feel it physically, the emotinal side takes it toll. Does it ever. By the end of the week I can be crabby, over-sensitive, and finding fault in the smallest of things. Like the last couple of days.
When a few things don't go to plan, or when a few things get to me, they combine into a rolling ball of moss, accelerating down the steep hill of my brain, until finally, when it hits the bottom with a large bang, I end up broken. Completely broken, shattered, and in a deep ditch of dirt.
But, aided today by my true and trusted friend 'proper coffee' I am definitely looking up.
:)
Just send Hubbie this message: "Hi, I'm Miss S (group says 'Hi Miss S') and I have a coffee addiction."
I'm a bit whacked out today, being a Friday and all. As you can probably tell.
So I'm here to talk positive, and to put a bit of perspective on something I mentioned yesterday.
So yes. I didn't ask for a pay rise. I didn't prepare myself, the night before it I had other heavy things on my mind, and it led to me feeling completely unprepared for the work review I had. I'm not usually like that, I'm super-organised, and like Hubbie coached to me last night, I have to learn from the experience.
Yes I will learn. I guess it's just hard because I'm not even sure what was the right thing to do: to ask or not to ask? That IS the question. However I have to believe that I did the right thing, and if not, that I will get another opportunity at monetary rewards, if not through this work, then through another (hint, hint, clears throat loudly 'ahem, book *cough* my story *cough*).
:)
And one more thing. What I was supposed to talk about yesterday.
I get cranky at times, when I notice people staring at me. It just really annoys me. Sure, look, glance around. But don't continue to ogle me, or to totally stare me down into a hole as I walk on by. I don't care what the reasons are, I find it rude and slightly intimidating to know someone is totally giving me the once over.
Though a couple of mornings ago, walking to work 6:30 in the morning, I saw two tradies approaching me from the other side. I knew how I was dressed, and knew that it may get some notice. I wasn't dressed inappropriately or anything, but you know when the clothes you wear portray a certain look? Anyway, I kepy my eyes straight ahead as I walked on by, being careful not to make any eye contact, because hey, you can't encourage them in anyway. Who knows what might happen then.
Even though my eyes were forward, I could see them looking at me as they walked past. And I heard from one of them, lowly, "Wow."
Wow. I thought about it some more as I kept walking, wondering whether I was upset at being ogled at again. But you know what? I took it for what it was, as a freaking damn fantastic compliment. WOW. I think that's one of the best compliments ever. One word, so simple. Wow.
As I said to Hubbie, when I'm pregnant one day, I'm sure I won't have guys whistling, tooting their car horns or making remarks about me when I walk by, so I'll take all the Wow's I can right now.
I'm going to take it in, and appreciate it as much as possible.
What a wonderful, brilliant, spectacular, mood-lifting, heart-warming post to get me into the weekend :-D
WOW!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Feeling Shitty Now....
Ok, so my plan was to write about something that lifted my mood the other day, instead, I'm still feeling shitty, so I can't fake it and go "Oooh! look at me! la di da I'm so happy!"
:):):):)
No, I can't do that. Have you ever not wanted to do something because the thought of doing it made you feel so uncomfortable and awkward, so you didn't do it, but then after the fact, you wished you had done it, because it would have been a learning experience, a challenge, an opportunity at greater things?
Yeah well I feel like a freaking coward right now. I had an opportunity to ask for a pay rise, and I chickened out.
(Hides head between legs and shuffles away....)
I feel like crying.
:(
:):):):)
No, I can't do that. Have you ever not wanted to do something because the thought of doing it made you feel so uncomfortable and awkward, so you didn't do it, but then after the fact, you wished you had done it, because it would have been a learning experience, a challenge, an opportunity at greater things?
Yeah well I feel like a freaking coward right now. I had an opportunity to ask for a pay rise, and I chickened out.
(Hides head between legs and shuffles away....)
I feel like crying.
:(
Writing Realisations
I've come across a couple of insights into the way Miss S operates and what drives her (yes I am fully aware of having just switched from 1st person P.O.V to a third person P.O.V).
I was feeling a bit sad and sorry for myself on Sunday afternoon, once again thinking of how quickly the weekend had passed, and how I had to get myself ready for work the next day: lunches, bags, crap and stuff.
A glimmer of happiness went through me when I thought of the early time Hubbie would be going to bed; because when he goes to bed early, me and my laptop join him.
I spend most of my writing time typing furiously on my laptop as Hubbie sleeps beside me. I don't like to write when he is awake and we can talk about something or do something. Even when we're just sitting on the couch, I have to sit on the couch with him, instead of do anything else. Aww. Also, I think I wouldn't be able to concentrate either, even if I tried. I'm much better thinking and planning in quiet and peace, with no distractions. That thought worries me, as I know the day will come where I have distractions abound.
Also, in complete contradiction to what I just said, when I look at my computer screen, and start reading the last few pages I wrote, I completely switch off and just tune into another world. That's what I noticed last night in bed, having started the writing process in complete sadness and frustration. I knew I had to write, I have a deadline I'm trying to stick to so I don't slack off, and I said to myself "right, there are times that you're going to write happy, some sad. You gotta write through it all."
And amazingly I did. It was only after I finished for the night that I realised how deep in my other world I had been. I don't know if that's what happens to all writers as they're creating their own unique worlds, or if it's a sign of something else (like my story is good, fingers crossed!)
So that I liked:)
AND, I find myself really looking forward to and enjoying writing of late. It may be a combination of things: being towards the end of the book; seeing the light at the end of the tunnel for the book's completion; writing about things that I've been leading up to for a year! I feel good about it, and not that I don't usually like to write, but a lot of the past year I've felt confused about the characters, storyline and my ability to write well. I'm feeling better, for everything, and I like it.
So I'm liking a lot, but my heart is still heavy. Maybe I need one more post to lift my spirits....
I was feeling a bit sad and sorry for myself on Sunday afternoon, once again thinking of how quickly the weekend had passed, and how I had to get myself ready for work the next day: lunches, bags, crap and stuff.
A glimmer of happiness went through me when I thought of the early time Hubbie would be going to bed; because when he goes to bed early, me and my laptop join him.
I spend most of my writing time typing furiously on my laptop as Hubbie sleeps beside me. I don't like to write when he is awake and we can talk about something or do something. Even when we're just sitting on the couch, I have to sit on the couch with him, instead of do anything else. Aww. Also, I think I wouldn't be able to concentrate either, even if I tried. I'm much better thinking and planning in quiet and peace, with no distractions. That thought worries me, as I know the day will come where I have distractions abound.
Also, in complete contradiction to what I just said, when I look at my computer screen, and start reading the last few pages I wrote, I completely switch off and just tune into another world. That's what I noticed last night in bed, having started the writing process in complete sadness and frustration. I knew I had to write, I have a deadline I'm trying to stick to so I don't slack off, and I said to myself "right, there are times that you're going to write happy, some sad. You gotta write through it all."
And amazingly I did. It was only after I finished for the night that I realised how deep in my other world I had been. I don't know if that's what happens to all writers as they're creating their own unique worlds, or if it's a sign of something else (like my story is good, fingers crossed!)
So that I liked:)
AND, I find myself really looking forward to and enjoying writing of late. It may be a combination of things: being towards the end of the book; seeing the light at the end of the tunnel for the book's completion; writing about things that I've been leading up to for a year! I feel good about it, and not that I don't usually like to write, but a lot of the past year I've felt confused about the characters, storyline and my ability to write well. I'm feeling better, for everything, and I like it.
So I'm liking a lot, but my heart is still heavy. Maybe I need one more post to lift my spirits....
Thursday, December 29, 2011
2011: The Year In Review
This past year has been interesting. It has been unexpected at times, trying at others, and above all else a great learning experience. In retrospect, with all the new things that came into my life, whether I initially embraced them or tried to shut them out, I now believe it was all for the best.
Yesterday when I was trying to remember what my resolutions for this year had been, there was only one major one that stood out to me: And which I proudly with the widest smile can say I have given my all. That I will get to later:) However I find it hilarious that I had to think of my resolutions and could only remember one of them, having kind of forgotten the rest. Or had I? As I look through the list to see what I had achieved, although some were far from mind, the opportunites to take these things on board were definitely there, lingering.....
To read, HEAPS more.
Yes, yes and yes. Hold on there was only one point. I guess my point is to emphasise that I did take this on board whole-heartedly. I finished reading several self-help and law of attraction books, have started on "The Celestine Prophecy," started and finished "Persuasion," half-way through that got half-addicted to Jane Austen, am now almost finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and am definitely addicted to Jane Austen. It may not seem like much (and I do feel I am missing a book somewhere) but compared to the NO BOOKS I was previously reading (or not reading if that makes sense, though I don't think it does) it is a lot, as all I used to previously read was mags and catalogues, which is really quite pathetic if you have to count that as literature. So I, am no longer, pathetic!
Ha ha.
Oh, and although I didn't work out the blogger, listing books, ticking them off thing, I've still succeeded with my main point, so there :P
To complete my first book by the end of the year.
Well, although I am not finished with this huge task, I am so proud to say that I am up to writing chapter 12 of my planned 14 chapter book. Last night I was writing and had to go back and check some stuff I'd written (I've written so much I forget what I've created!) and once again, as has happened on several other occassions, I was really pleased on reading back certain passages. I will need to revise and re-word quite a bit once I've finished my first draft, but considering I've had no formal training (other than my informal blogging of course :) ) I think I've done quite well.
AND, considering that I didn't actually start writing my book 'til the very end of Feb, I figure my resolution should be modified to extend to the end of Feb' 12: which is in fact when I plan to have the draft of my first book completed by. All is on track.
:):):)
To get fit.
Fail. Ok, well at first I went "fail, massive fail." But then I realised something. Yes I may have started the year off playing basketball with Hubbie a lot, running up and down basketball courts and what-not, with the attempts slowly dwindling to doing NOTHING of the sort. I could use genuine excuses to explain myself. Hubbie's busier schedule and starting a new job; me getting sick at one stage which removed me from all outdoor activities all together with no planned return to them - yes I could use these as an excuse, but I won't (even though I just did). If I had really wanted to do exercise, I would have found a way, no buts about it.
But then I remembered. Due to Hubbie's new job in the last couple of months this year, and the fact that he needs my car to get to and from work, I've been using the train pretty much every single day.
In the morning I walk 10 mins to work from the station. When I finish I walk 10 mins to the station. Then when I get to the station at home, I walk home for 25-30 mins, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.
That's every day of the week I work. Now that's a good effort.
So, I have half-committed to that resolution too, though unintentionally:) I could be lazy and wait 15 mins for the bus to take me home, but I start walking. Procrastination eat your heart out.
To improve all my relationships, full-stop.
This is a tricky one. Grey in some areas, as most relationships are. People who I've in the past been distant with, or who I've been angry with, I've now grown closer to, or have a new-found respect for. Others, who I have struggled with in the past, I still continue to struggle with even now.
Over Christmas I tried to put my extreme dislike of one person behind me, just for the day. It worked, and I managed to see them in a somewhat positive light. But then like today, when I remember the shit petty-ness, insecure mind games and arrogance I've received from them in the past, my anger fuels up again and I feel really mad. It's not black and white. Nothing in life ever really is. But the fact that I'm trying to learn, trying to move on, and trying to accept the fact that in order to solve your relationship problems you need to change yourself, tells me that I've made some progress.
Grrr. Changing myself at the ignorance of others just shits me. I'm not the problem. But often in life you've got to swallow your pride (and let Karma take care of the rest....)
To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development.
Yes. Simply put, yes. Through all my reading and thinking and my daily work calendar full of quotes like "First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do." - Epictetus.
To enjoy life.
This one I completely forgot I wrote down, yet this is the one that must have stayed subconciously in my mind, because this one I, we, have definitely achieved.
We have stepped it up a gear. One of our motto's is "work hard, play hard." We don't always get a chance to do what we want, what with work, family commitments, and other occasions that take up our weekends. So when we do get spare time, we go all out. It may not be big to some, but to us we take extreme pleasure in it: buying coffee whenever we go shopping; eating big and well at very decent restaurants; spoiling ourselves on quality clothes; buying unique and different furniture to furnish our home. We spend a bit more, because that's the kind of life we want: one consisting of quality. Not in the future, but from NOW. Starting from right now.
And we have been doing it, for about 6 months now. Going out, splurging, exploring the town and just smiling. Life is now. You don't wait for tomorrow to enjoy it. That's what we've been doing. Any spare moment we get we enjoy it to the fullest potential, so that when we return to work the next day we don't feel pity for ourselves in seeing someone sitting and relaxing in the sun, and enjoying a coffee at an exclusive cafe.
(Yesterday we had chocolate drizzled cappuccinos and shared a huge waffle for two, drizzled also with chocolate, with side accompaniments of ice cream, strawberries and banana - and today I'm ok with being back at work :) )
Ok, enough reflecting, now for my 2012 Resolutions!
1. To finish the first draft of my first book by late Feb, and by the end of the year have it published with a reputable publisher, with the intention of writing more books in the series for that publisher. This is my first and foremost resolution, it is direct because I know exactly what I want. I'm more than half way there. It WILL happen!
2. To continue to read more, especially in ways that will help along with my writing, and also to read books that will continue to help me better myself spiritually. This is a two-fold resolution. So we'll go to 4.
4. To do some form of exercise ( I have to sigh at this resolution ) however in particular I want to zone in on my arms and make them more toned. I have a goal in mind, as Red has some arm exercises she has to give me in paper form. As soon as she gives them to me, (hopefully soon!) I start! As for the other general exercise, hopefully I will do Zumba with my at-home DVDs, if I can't make myself apply to yoga classes. Yes, as far as resolutions go, my tone in this one sucks, but hey, I have to try, true?
5. To continue living life with Hubbie to the full in every way, shape and form.
6. To continue thinking, believing and LIVING the law of attraction, both for myself and in unison with Hubbie. Although he says I inspired him, some things he has achieved of late have inspired me so much that I want us to continue on this enlightened path, aware that all that we want and aim for in life, we will have.
These, my friends, are my wishes and hopes for myself, and I wish you, all the same happiness, love, health and success that you so rightly deserve.
"Look, I don't have all the answers. To be honest, in life, I failed as often as I succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you, my kind of success."
- (Best ever end-of-movie quote! 'Jerry Maguire.')
Yesterday when I was trying to remember what my resolutions for this year had been, there was only one major one that stood out to me: And which I proudly with the widest smile can say I have given my all. That I will get to later:) However I find it hilarious that I had to think of my resolutions and could only remember one of them, having kind of forgotten the rest. Or had I? As I look through the list to see what I had achieved, although some were far from mind, the opportunites to take these things on board were definitely there, lingering.....
To read, HEAPS more.
Yes, yes and yes. Hold on there was only one point. I guess my point is to emphasise that I did take this on board whole-heartedly. I finished reading several self-help and law of attraction books, have started on "The Celestine Prophecy," started and finished "Persuasion," half-way through that got half-addicted to Jane Austen, am now almost finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and am definitely addicted to Jane Austen. It may not seem like much (and I do feel I am missing a book somewhere) but compared to the NO BOOKS I was previously reading (or not reading if that makes sense, though I don't think it does) it is a lot, as all I used to previously read was mags and catalogues, which is really quite pathetic if you have to count that as literature. So I, am no longer, pathetic!
Ha ha.
Oh, and although I didn't work out the blogger, listing books, ticking them off thing, I've still succeeded with my main point, so there :P
To complete my first book by the end of the year.
Well, although I am not finished with this huge task, I am so proud to say that I am up to writing chapter 12 of my planned 14 chapter book. Last night I was writing and had to go back and check some stuff I'd written (I've written so much I forget what I've created!) and once again, as has happened on several other occassions, I was really pleased on reading back certain passages. I will need to revise and re-word quite a bit once I've finished my first draft, but considering I've had no formal training (other than my informal blogging of course :) ) I think I've done quite well.
AND, considering that I didn't actually start writing my book 'til the very end of Feb, I figure my resolution should be modified to extend to the end of Feb' 12: which is in fact when I plan to have the draft of my first book completed by. All is on track.
:):):)
To get fit.
Fail. Ok, well at first I went "fail, massive fail." But then I realised something. Yes I may have started the year off playing basketball with Hubbie a lot, running up and down basketball courts and what-not, with the attempts slowly dwindling to doing NOTHING of the sort. I could use genuine excuses to explain myself. Hubbie's busier schedule and starting a new job; me getting sick at one stage which removed me from all outdoor activities all together with no planned return to them - yes I could use these as an excuse, but I won't (even though I just did). If I had really wanted to do exercise, I would have found a way, no buts about it.
But then I remembered. Due to Hubbie's new job in the last couple of months this year, and the fact that he needs my car to get to and from work, I've been using the train pretty much every single day.
In the morning I walk 10 mins to work from the station. When I finish I walk 10 mins to the station. Then when I get to the station at home, I walk home for 25-30 mins, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.
That's every day of the week I work. Now that's a good effort.
So, I have half-committed to that resolution too, though unintentionally:) I could be lazy and wait 15 mins for the bus to take me home, but I start walking. Procrastination eat your heart out.
To improve all my relationships, full-stop.
This is a tricky one. Grey in some areas, as most relationships are. People who I've in the past been distant with, or who I've been angry with, I've now grown closer to, or have a new-found respect for. Others, who I have struggled with in the past, I still continue to struggle with even now.
Over Christmas I tried to put my extreme dislike of one person behind me, just for the day. It worked, and I managed to see them in a somewhat positive light. But then like today, when I remember the shit petty-ness, insecure mind games and arrogance I've received from them in the past, my anger fuels up again and I feel really mad. It's not black and white. Nothing in life ever really is. But the fact that I'm trying to learn, trying to move on, and trying to accept the fact that in order to solve your relationship problems you need to change yourself, tells me that I've made some progress.
Grrr. Changing myself at the ignorance of others just shits me. I'm not the problem. But often in life you've got to swallow your pride (and let Karma take care of the rest....)
To continue on my path of spiritual growth and self-development.
Yes. Simply put, yes. Through all my reading and thinking and my daily work calendar full of quotes like "First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do." - Epictetus.
To enjoy life.
This one I completely forgot I wrote down, yet this is the one that must have stayed subconciously in my mind, because this one I, we, have definitely achieved.
We have stepped it up a gear. One of our motto's is "work hard, play hard." We don't always get a chance to do what we want, what with work, family commitments, and other occasions that take up our weekends. So when we do get spare time, we go all out. It may not be big to some, but to us we take extreme pleasure in it: buying coffee whenever we go shopping; eating big and well at very decent restaurants; spoiling ourselves on quality clothes; buying unique and different furniture to furnish our home. We spend a bit more, because that's the kind of life we want: one consisting of quality. Not in the future, but from NOW. Starting from right now.
And we have been doing it, for about 6 months now. Going out, splurging, exploring the town and just smiling. Life is now. You don't wait for tomorrow to enjoy it. That's what we've been doing. Any spare moment we get we enjoy it to the fullest potential, so that when we return to work the next day we don't feel pity for ourselves in seeing someone sitting and relaxing in the sun, and enjoying a coffee at an exclusive cafe.
(Yesterday we had chocolate drizzled cappuccinos and shared a huge waffle for two, drizzled also with chocolate, with side accompaniments of ice cream, strawberries and banana - and today I'm ok with being back at work :) )
Ok, enough reflecting, now for my 2012 Resolutions!
1. To finish the first draft of my first book by late Feb, and by the end of the year have it published with a reputable publisher, with the intention of writing more books in the series for that publisher. This is my first and foremost resolution, it is direct because I know exactly what I want. I'm more than half way there. It WILL happen!
2. To continue to read more, especially in ways that will help along with my writing, and also to read books that will continue to help me better myself spiritually. This is a two-fold resolution. So we'll go to 4.
4. To do some form of exercise ( I have to sigh at this resolution ) however in particular I want to zone in on my arms and make them more toned. I have a goal in mind, as Red has some arm exercises she has to give me in paper form. As soon as she gives them to me, (hopefully soon!) I start! As for the other general exercise, hopefully I will do Zumba with my at-home DVDs, if I can't make myself apply to yoga classes. Yes, as far as resolutions go, my tone in this one sucks, but hey, I have to try, true?
5. To continue living life with Hubbie to the full in every way, shape and form.
6. To continue thinking, believing and LIVING the law of attraction, both for myself and in unison with Hubbie. Although he says I inspired him, some things he has achieved of late have inspired me so much that I want us to continue on this enlightened path, aware that all that we want and aim for in life, we will have.
These, my friends, are my wishes and hopes for myself, and I wish you, all the same happiness, love, health and success that you so rightly deserve.
"Look, I don't have all the answers. To be honest, in life, I failed as often as I succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you, my kind of success."
- (Best ever end-of-movie quote! 'Jerry Maguire.')
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