Advice. I do love impart nuggets of what I like to think of as wisdom, despite all evidence to the contrary. But if there's one thing I hate, it's the loss of meaning in the word "love" in modern society. However, if there's one thing I hate in relation to the topic of this blog post, it is receiving advice.
No matter how brilliant your pearl of wisdom I am likely to ignore it unless I'm in a weirdly good mood. Which is unfortunate really because at a time like this - just after graduating and with no clue about my future plans - just about everyone I talk to, from estranged family friends to the heartless tooth-torturer who calls herself my dentist, wants to give me some advice.
Their advice may be good, it may be bad, I don't know because the one thing you can be sure of is that I didn't listen to a word. I recall once I was playing a game of pool against a superior opponent whom I felt I had no chance of beating and yet I was a mere three shots from victory. Having weighed up my options and selected a route to glory I was about to approach the table for my first movement in what was surely to be a balletic billiards masterclass when an onlooker advised me to take the shot I was in fact already about to take. I immediately switched targets to the other (impossible to sink) ball, miscued and handed my opponent the chance to clear up, which he duly did.
It's just a case of cutting off my nose to spite my face really, but I refuse almost any help anybody offers to me. This will, I am sure, make job hunting an excellent experience and a pleasure. Or, even more of a nightmare than it is for everyone else, which is saying something in these tough economic times.
Anyway, knowing that I'll need to be fairly pro-active to get anywhere given the obstacles I put in my own way and being mature enough to realise that now is at last the time to enter the real world (read: having run out of options for more education) I decided today to have a look round at a few jobs before beginning the arduous process of claiming JSA and having to deal with various "employment advisers". Starting from the rather vague proposition of getting a graduate job as I am a graduate and these probably pay the best, I fired up google and began my journey round the virtual jobs market. Every graduate job currently available seems to be a teaching position or "recruitment" in the financial services sector. Loathe as I am to use too much text-speak my only conclusion was "WTF?"
There must be more to being a graduate than this. We were happily informed not two days ago that 93% of last year's graduates from LTUC are now in employment or further education (no pressure). Even discounting the few who are working in shops or similar as opposed to graduate positions, I fail to see how so many people could have found jobs in a market like this.
So I moved on. Now, you'll be familiar with my wanting to be a writer if you've experienced this blog before and regardless of how unattainable this dream is (I'll let you decide, you're the one having to suffer the result), I thought I'd have a little look round for any writing jobs. I wasn't expecting much, surely any really good writing jobs wouldn't just be laying around on the internet for any schmuck to stumble across, but still, the pickings were slim. So, I'm back on track for the old "normal" job thing or being part of that shameful seven per cent.
The advice I most wish I'd listened to is when somebody said to plan ahead. People have been telling me since forever that I need to have a plan for my future but being a free spirit, a bit of a maverick and terrible at taking advice I didn't listen and now my future's here like some giant pugilist I have to take out: it's big and it's scary and it's about to start swinging.
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
G-Bomb deployed
Well, it's finally happened. If you've been here before, you know that graduation day has been a date in my diary that I've been dreading for some time. I always looked forward to the ceremony itself, but the thought that it is the last en-masse gathering of my favourite people on the planet never failed to make me more than a little maudlin.
In the end, it was actually a much happier occasion than I thought. For all that that I like to see modernisation everywhere, the ancient-feeling pomp and ceremony of the, er ... ceremony, really spoke to me. From my second-row-from-the-back vantage point I had an excellent view of what was merely 100 pointy hats away from being a scene from Harry Potter. If you are familiar with my, let's call it love (obsession sounds so seedy), for Harry Potter, you will understand how happy this made me.
Anyway, with lectures finishing so long ago it already felt like uni was over, so instead of the final chapter, today was the perfect addendum to the story of the last few years. I'd like to think that I had some part in my not being depressed. Having billed everything I could over the last few months as "THE END", I'd somehow nullified the finality of the day and turned it into just a great chance to see friends (in some cases perhaps a last chance).
I guess that's what it's supposed to be. It's a funeral for your student days but as always it's a celebration of life rather than a sad occasion. The idea is to look to the future and how this great experience will now help you going forward but I went to uni for uni's sake, not for my future career. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt the pangs of finality but then I also know we were all so happy to be there in our gowns, having our hard work recognised.
I can't help looking to the past, I should list it as my place of residence on official documents, but even as the ceremony concluded, consigning my favourite time and place to the past and tethering me yet stronger to my tendency for reminiscence rather than new experiences my happiness could not be dented. In fact it lasted all evening. Never in the history of human endeavour has something been dreaded so terribly by so few for so long, and then so heartily enjoyed.
After the main event was concluded came the part I'd really been dreading. Since the first time I realised exactly how much I loved my life (a feeling I was having for possibly the first time), this moment had been part of my nightmares. It is the moment of goodbye.
Now, I've said before how shit I am at maintaining a friendship. But then again there have never been friendships I've so wanted to maintain. I still have little faith in my ability to do so, but my motivation for the task gives me some small modicum of confidence that I might do it this time. And my favourite moment of the day was contained in this dread hour, at the time of my final departure came, not the words I'd been longing to hear - they shall remain forever unspoken - but I did hear the six words that would have come somewhere around fifth or sixth on the list of phrases I'd most have liked a certain someone to say. Not for the first time, I felt like I was standing there with my soul bared and that my every desire was visible when she said "We will see each other again." Looking in those eyes it was almost possible to believe those words to be true despite my own doubts on the matter and the memory of that moment, easily the most heavily replayed one of the whole day, still draws a smile to my lips.
Au revoir, my friends. Adieu Leeds. Auf wiedersehen shining glow of an otherwise unattainable happiness. We will see each other again
In the end, it was actually a much happier occasion than I thought. For all that that I like to see modernisation everywhere, the ancient-feeling pomp and ceremony of the, er ... ceremony, really spoke to me. From my second-row-from-the-back vantage point I had an excellent view of what was merely 100 pointy hats away from being a scene from Harry Potter. If you are familiar with my, let's call it love (obsession sounds so seedy), for Harry Potter, you will understand how happy this made me.
Anyway, with lectures finishing so long ago it already felt like uni was over, so instead of the final chapter, today was the perfect addendum to the story of the last few years. I'd like to think that I had some part in my not being depressed. Having billed everything I could over the last few months as "THE END", I'd somehow nullified the finality of the day and turned it into just a great chance to see friends (in some cases perhaps a last chance).
I guess that's what it's supposed to be. It's a funeral for your student days but as always it's a celebration of life rather than a sad occasion. The idea is to look to the future and how this great experience will now help you going forward but I went to uni for uni's sake, not for my future career. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt the pangs of finality but then I also know we were all so happy to be there in our gowns, having our hard work recognised.
I can't help looking to the past, I should list it as my place of residence on official documents, but even as the ceremony concluded, consigning my favourite time and place to the past and tethering me yet stronger to my tendency for reminiscence rather than new experiences my happiness could not be dented. In fact it lasted all evening. Never in the history of human endeavour has something been dreaded so terribly by so few for so long, and then so heartily enjoyed.
After the main event was concluded came the part I'd really been dreading. Since the first time I realised exactly how much I loved my life (a feeling I was having for possibly the first time), this moment had been part of my nightmares. It is the moment of goodbye.
Now, I've said before how shit I am at maintaining a friendship. But then again there have never been friendships I've so wanted to maintain. I still have little faith in my ability to do so, but my motivation for the task gives me some small modicum of confidence that I might do it this time. And my favourite moment of the day was contained in this dread hour, at the time of my final departure came, not the words I'd been longing to hear - they shall remain forever unspoken - but I did hear the six words that would have come somewhere around fifth or sixth on the list of phrases I'd most have liked a certain someone to say. Not for the first time, I felt like I was standing there with my soul bared and that my every desire was visible when she said "We will see each other again." Looking in those eyes it was almost possible to believe those words to be true despite my own doubts on the matter and the memory of that moment, easily the most heavily replayed one of the whole day, still draws a smile to my lips.
Au revoir, my friends. Adieu Leeds. Auf wiedersehen shining glow of an otherwise unattainable happiness. We will see each other again
Thursday, 5 July 2012
Blog Chalenge Day 5: I give up.
Yeah, why are you even reading this?
Fine.
I did have some more stuff written and ready to post but I'm giving up because it's shit. I'm much better at blogging on an as and when basis. Dailly posting is too much work and I can't keep the quality up. Given the terribly low starting point for quality, that's really not a good thing.
Yeah, I gave up because I couldn't be arsed.
The end.
Back whenever.
Fine.
I did have some more stuff written and ready to post but I'm giving up because it's shit. I'm much better at blogging on an as and when basis. Dailly posting is too much work and I can't keep the quality up. Given the terribly low starting point for quality, that's really not a good thing.
Yeah, I gave up because I couldn't be arsed.
The end.
Back whenever.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Holy Crap! You're Jesus Christ! Blog Challenge Day 4
It's a looks thing only, but then I guess most celebrity comparisons are. Anyway, most people will happily tell you that I look like Jesus, with my long hair and scraggly beard combo. My habit of going round wearing a bed sheet and flip-flops probably doesn't help either. I jest, of course: it's crocs, I wouldn't be seen dead and nailed to a cross wearing flip-flops.
If you want to know if I'm actually like Jesus, it depends on which Jesus we're talking about, of course, but I'd say yes on the proviso that we consider Jesus without the "Son of God" stuff. Which leaves us with a man who is famous for his long hair and beard. Definitely me. The Jesus I think existed was a great leader of men and preached a message of social justice. I'd like to think that could me.
The only gripe I have with being Jesus is that the bloody Beatles are bigger and better than me. On the face of it that's fine but the only surviving Beatles are the world's most arrrogant man and Ringo "Don't call me by my stage name" Starr. If John and George were still about, I'd bow down and worship but as it is I don't think so.
Incidentally, the one other celebrity I've been compared to is John Lennon, mainly because of the iconic picture of him in his hairy, beardy phase when he's wearing those little round sunglasses and I ... once wore a pair of sunglasses (blame my brother, it was he who saw the "resemblance"). Oh, and I'm told that when I was little (like really little, too young to have the nous to make this shit up) I heard "Imagine" on the radio and after about three bars I claimed I'd written it. John Lennon in a previous life? You decide.
If you want to know if I'm actually like Jesus, it depends on which Jesus we're talking about, of course, but I'd say yes on the proviso that we consider Jesus without the "Son of God" stuff. Which leaves us with a man who is famous for his long hair and beard. Definitely me. The Jesus I think existed was a great leader of men and preached a message of social justice. I'd like to think that could me.
The only gripe I have with being Jesus is that the bloody Beatles are bigger and better than me. On the face of it that's fine but the only surviving Beatles are the world's most arrrogant man and Ringo "Don't call me by my stage name" Starr. If John and George were still about, I'd bow down and worship but as it is I don't think so.
Incidentally, the one other celebrity I've been compared to is John Lennon, mainly because of the iconic picture of him in his hairy, beardy phase when he's wearing those little round sunglasses and I ... once wore a pair of sunglasses (blame my brother, it was he who saw the "resemblance"). Oh, and I'm told that when I was little (like really little, too young to have the nous to make this shit up) I heard "Imagine" on the radio and after about three bars I claimed I'd written it. John Lennon in a previous life? You decide.
Blog Challenge Day 3: Tara
My childhood pet - in fact, my pet for most of my life - was a tabby cat by the name of Tara. Rescued from being put down at the age of just a few months, Tara was with our family for 21 years, finally succumbing to a stroke in 2009.
People say cats aren't as affectionate as dogs, but these are generally people who have never owned a cat. In a way, it's the same as human beings, some animals or people go in for over the top displays of emotion and some prefer the quiet contenment that comes from two good friends enjoying each other's company. You can tell I grew up in a cat house (no, not as in brothel you sordid bastards), as I'm much more content to just sit and enjoy being in people's company rather than jump up and hump their legs as soon as they walk in the room.
Anyway, in the case of my cat, she was very good at just being there. When I'd had bad days at school (and there were plenty of those over the years), after the standard parental post-school interrogation, she'd just sit on my knees while I watched TV or whatever and barely move all night, even though normally she'd be more likely to be out on the street fighting (read: scratching the hell out of) the nieghbours' dogs . It sounds stupid and simple but it was always a comfort.
It's been three years (good God, where did that time go?) since the day I buried her in the back garden. Where there was a parched and barren square of ground, the grass has regrown now because I can't bring myself to play football out there any more and there's a small depression in the ground where the cardboard box we pressed into service as a coffin has decomposed and fallen away.
People say cats aren't as affectionate as dogs, but these are generally people who have never owned a cat. In a way, it's the same as human beings, some animals or people go in for over the top displays of emotion and some prefer the quiet contenment that comes from two good friends enjoying each other's company. You can tell I grew up in a cat house (no, not as in brothel you sordid bastards), as I'm much more content to just sit and enjoy being in people's company rather than jump up and hump their legs as soon as they walk in the room.
Anyway, in the case of my cat, she was very good at just being there. When I'd had bad days at school (and there were plenty of those over the years), after the standard parental post-school interrogation, she'd just sit on my knees while I watched TV or whatever and barely move all night, even though normally she'd be more likely to be out on the street fighting (read: scratching the hell out of) the nieghbours' dogs . It sounds stupid and simple but it was always a comfort.
It's been three years (good God, where did that time go?) since the day I buried her in the back garden. Where there was a parched and barren square of ground, the grass has regrown now because I can't bring myself to play football out there any more and there's a small depression in the ground where the cardboard box we pressed into service as a coffin has decomposed and fallen away.
Monday, 2 July 2012
Yeah, I was just running out of ideas, to be honest. Blog Challenge Day 2
Thank you random blog generator, you pillock.
So, in the course of trying to make this blog challenge include only topics that suited me I had to use a couple of topic generators and "Going to the movie alone" would not stop coming up and it brought to mind a time when I'd had to go to see film without someone I was looking forward to spending some time with. It's a bollocks topic and what I'm about to write doesn't actually come under this topic but meh, what are you gonna do?
So, gather round all ye to hear the tale of the time I went to see a movie "alone", with one other person.
You know when you get caught in the gravity of someone else's invitation to an event? You know, when you're stood there as your friend is invited to a party or night out by someone else and then it's kind of awkward so you get invited too? Yeah, well when there is a party of three going somewhere and two of those people merely got caught in the gravity of one of the other's invitation, you get some sort of invitational black hole and the entire event matrix breaks down, making one person disappear.
Excuse the nerdgasm, what I mean is, I was only invited to go watch a film because I was sat right next to two of my friends arranging a trip to the cinema, but then I ended up in charge of organising it and in truth I only really cared about going with one of them, so I'd been caught in the gravity of the other person's invite and they were caught in the gravity of me wanting to spend some time with the third person.
You see where this is going... the third person dropped out for some unknown reason and I ended up going to watch a film with someone who, whilst a friend, and a good one too, was not the target of this excursion. To make matters worse, I have a sneaking suspicion they may have seen this as a semi-date.
On a related note: how shit of a date is going to watch a film? It's become a staple of the couples scene but I don't quite get what's so romantic about me saying: "hey, let's go and sit in a darkened room where we can't see or speak to each other on really uncomfortable chairs, surrounded by sweaty strangers." It has been pointed out to me that the darkness offers an opportunity for smooching. I would counter this by pointing out that choosing a darkened setting for such intimacy does rather suggest you'd rather not see your date's face.
So, maybe going alone isn't such a bad thing, just make sure you go alone on your own and not with a friend.
So, in the course of trying to make this blog challenge include only topics that suited me I had to use a couple of topic generators and "Going to the movie alone" would not stop coming up and it brought to mind a time when I'd had to go to see film without someone I was looking forward to spending some time with. It's a bollocks topic and what I'm about to write doesn't actually come under this topic but meh, what are you gonna do?
So, gather round all ye to hear the tale of the time I went to see a movie "alone", with one other person.
You know when you get caught in the gravity of someone else's invitation to an event? You know, when you're stood there as your friend is invited to a party or night out by someone else and then it's kind of awkward so you get invited too? Yeah, well when there is a party of three going somewhere and two of those people merely got caught in the gravity of one of the other's invitation, you get some sort of invitational black hole and the entire event matrix breaks down, making one person disappear.
Excuse the nerdgasm, what I mean is, I was only invited to go watch a film because I was sat right next to two of my friends arranging a trip to the cinema, but then I ended up in charge of organising it and in truth I only really cared about going with one of them, so I'd been caught in the gravity of the other person's invite and they were caught in the gravity of me wanting to spend some time with the third person.
You see where this is going... the third person dropped out for some unknown reason and I ended up going to watch a film with someone who, whilst a friend, and a good one too, was not the target of this excursion. To make matters worse, I have a sneaking suspicion they may have seen this as a semi-date.
On a related note: how shit of a date is going to watch a film? It's become a staple of the couples scene but I don't quite get what's so romantic about me saying: "hey, let's go and sit in a darkened room where we can't see or speak to each other on really uncomfortable chairs, surrounded by sweaty strangers." It has been pointed out to me that the darkness offers an opportunity for smooching. I would counter this by pointing out that choosing a darkened setting for such intimacy does rather suggest you'd rather not see your date's face.
So, maybe going alone isn't such a bad thing, just make sure you go alone on your own and not with a friend.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Blog Challenge Day 1. Dream Job.
No particular reason why this comes first, other than I made a little joke with the title which registered about a 0.03 out of a hundred on the funny scale and has only been depreciating since so I'd better get it out of the way before we go any further.
Dream Job: FBI operatvive, standard.
That's right: Federal Booby Inspectorate.
[pause for laughs/awkward silence]
Very well, then. Moving on...
So, my dream job would be to be given money for doing nothing, same as everyone elses. Unfortunately, that job does not exist, so I'll have to look elsewhere.
If I'm honest, there's still a part of me that thinks I could make it in professional football, despite the fact that this is patently absurd. With little skill and even less fitness that dream will forever remain nothing more than a fantasy.
Dream number two would be to be a novelist, but I don't have the motivation or the imagination required to write 250+ pages of well thought out and enjoyable material. I could possibly ghost-write for someone but I think it would be soul-destroying to see your work out there with someone else's name on it.
I've had some compliments over the course of writing this blog, but I still don't think I'm that good at writing so I'll probably do what my mother did and one day I'll write something but never get the brave up to try and get it published.
Dream three would be to be a musician, but whilst I've got more skill with a bass guitar than I have with a football, I've less motivation to practice and learn to play than I have to write. So that dream is no more likely than any other. Plus, I'd want to sing and anyone who's heard me try that would attest that it's not a good idea.
Also in there are acting and politics, but I'm not "TV pretty" and have no charisma so they're both out too.
So, feet on the ground. A job that I can actually do and that I would enjoy. I have literally no idea. In all but a few situations I have absolutely no self-confidence and as a result I always think I'll be terrible at almost any job you care to mention, and whether that's true or not, it means that I have shy away from trying to get that job. To be honest I can't face the idea of a "normal" job. The idea is almost unpalatable to me. Maybe it's because I'm a product of the "famous for being famous" generation but I've never fancied working in a shop or a bar or an office or any other normal place. I always saw myself in some exotic location doing something incredibly fun that pays ridiculously well despite being not even remotely like real work.
Gizza job
Dream Job: FBI operatvive, standard.
That's right: Federal Booby Inspectorate.
[pause for laughs/awkward silence]
Very well, then. Moving on...
So, my dream job would be to be given money for doing nothing, same as everyone elses. Unfortunately, that job does not exist, so I'll have to look elsewhere.
If I'm honest, there's still a part of me that thinks I could make it in professional football, despite the fact that this is patently absurd. With little skill and even less fitness that dream will forever remain nothing more than a fantasy.
Dream number two would be to be a novelist, but I don't have the motivation or the imagination required to write 250+ pages of well thought out and enjoyable material. I could possibly ghost-write for someone but I think it would be soul-destroying to see your work out there with someone else's name on it.
I've had some compliments over the course of writing this blog, but I still don't think I'm that good at writing so I'll probably do what my mother did and one day I'll write something but never get the brave up to try and get it published.
Dream three would be to be a musician, but whilst I've got more skill with a bass guitar than I have with a football, I've less motivation to practice and learn to play than I have to write. So that dream is no more likely than any other. Plus, I'd want to sing and anyone who's heard me try that would attest that it's not a good idea.
Also in there are acting and politics, but I'm not "TV pretty" and have no charisma so they're both out too.
So, feet on the ground. A job that I can actually do and that I would enjoy. I have literally no idea. In all but a few situations I have absolutely no self-confidence and as a result I always think I'll be terrible at almost any job you care to mention, and whether that's true or not, it means that I have shy away from trying to get that job. To be honest I can't face the idea of a "normal" job. The idea is almost unpalatable to me. Maybe it's because I'm a product of the "famous for being famous" generation but I've never fancied working in a shop or a bar or an office or any other normal place. I always saw myself in some exotic location doing something incredibly fun that pays ridiculously well despite being not even remotely like real work.
Gizza job