Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Ranting again.

Writing my 2nd book, it's going well. When I'm writing I feel as if things are ok, because after all the more I write, the more books I get out there, the more chance I have of becoming someone significant. 
I'm still completely restless, I'm fed up of this situation. One day when my life is where it's supposed to be I'm going to write my autobiography and this chapter I will name The Situation, surely nothing else I come up against will be the same as this. 
I can list everything I need, everything I want...which by the way are not the same things. But getting any of this all depends on one achievement, for gods sake it's just one thing! Someone give me a job. And not a minimum wage lousy position I could have done at sixteen, although I'd consider it now. Give me a real job, one I deserve, one I've earned after all this bastard education. 
So I didn't want to teach! Fuck you if that's all that's out there for people like me. I still deserve a chance. There cannot be only one option, not in this day and age. I'm just angry at life right now. I have a lot, don't start coming the starving people in the third world stuff, yeah I know. I'm luckier than most. But it's not enough, not to survive in this country, this world, this society. I'm still trying my best. But me alone is not enough. 

Thursday, 13 November 2014

Being a Writer

When you're a writer, you're not just a writer. In the art of writing you become Everything.
You're an architect when you design a building, a city, roads and make them connect in a realistic mathematically correct way.
You're a researcher
A historian
A student of human psychology
A fashion designer
An artist
A poet
An expert on dialect and language
You're a crazy person with a hundred voices in your head
You're capable of holding down detailed and lengthy conversations with yourself
You're a weather man
You're a time traveller
You can build the future and argue with the past
You hold the secrets of magic and fantasy
You're a hero and a villain
You're God
You're the Devil
You give life and you take it away with the scribble of a pen

When you're a writer you are more than a writer, you hold the power to create anything within the capability of your imagination.

I am not a builder, or a designer, I don't have any qualifications in engineering or construction, but today I built a building, I designed it and it's perfect. It might cost multi millions to build, it might be a considered as a bad job, but I have built it and over 32 characters are going to work here and I have given life to everyone of them. Today I am an architect and tomorrow who knows what, but I know for certain, being a writer is no small thing. Because I can be whatever I want to be and frankly no matter what happens in life, I wont lose this and I love it.

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Pencil Skirt day No 7?

Another Pencil Skirt day, at this rate I'll have had more of these than I have sleepless nights. If just one wouldn't result in being a waste of time. So far this one sounds as if it has the potential to be ok, but then again, so did a handful of the others and they ended up in proving only that the world has too many liars and cheats in it. That sounds a little over dramatic but I'm standing by it. False advertising is as good as lying. Offering a person something and then not delivering is cheating someone. These combined is damn right evil.

I might be holding the particulars in confidence at the present but only because I fully intend to expose these wrong-doers in the biographical novel I intend to write.

So lets hope as I hope each time that this is not going to be a waste of time.

I just want something tolerable, something that means a foot in a door, something that pays just enough for me to live on and save up a little. Just something that's not so bad I want drown myself in my bowl of Kellogg's each morning...not that I eat cereal, but you get the idea.

Monday, 10 November 2014

Leftovers. Post grad.

Something happened that devastated me and I thought nothing would ever be so painful or difficult to get through as that chapter of my life, now I can say that something has eclipsed that.
This here, right now, this moment in my life is so far the hardest thing I have had to go through. Those with parents who have cancer, or have gotten accidently pregnant or some such will obviously look at my 'hardest experience' as trivial, but the truth is none of those sorts of things have ever happened to me. What has happened to me is I've graduated and I'm unemployed. And that right there is the hardest thing I have had to deal with in my twenty one years.

I've read so many posts and articles online of people in exactly the same situation, stats on top of stats and so I know it's not just me. I'm not the only one sat in my bedroom staring at a computer screen and wishing someone would give me a chance. I read today about a young woman whose dream on leaving university was to become a journalist, finding this near to impossible she had settled to find a job as a receptionist or some such but was finding that was just as difficult. I completely related.

The point is, we went to university, we now do not qualify for the training or the apprenticeships or the courses that are thrown at 16-19 year olds. We also don't have the 'Two years minimum experience' in the jobs that are available on every jobsite known to man. At the same time we're now over-qualified for the jobs that don't ask for any requirements at all. So, if the jobs that are available for university educated individuals insist on refusing employment to those of us who have spent three years studying and therefore don't have the minimum of two years experience in this role....
and we're now overqualified for anything else....
and we don't want to work in SALES knocking doors and nagging people who have finished their day at work to hand over their hard earned money....
Then what's left? Where are we supposed to go?

Granted I give you that there are a selection of us who have found a foot on a path...
The few lucky ones who managed to land a job on their chosen career path, or the people who have friends or relatives to give them a leg up over the wall, ANY wall into employment. Or for those who opted for teaching, because the country is screaming for teachers....

Well what about the rest of us? We are the leftovers, we are lost names drifting in last years computer system and no one seems to be thinking about us. Every job that seems within reach we reach out for as desperately as a soul reaches out for it's body, only to be told we are without appropriate experience. Are we expected to spend the next three years post graduate working for free in unpaid internships and voluntary roles until we have the experience we're without? What do you think we live on? It's a myth that students live on super noodles, no one can survive on super noodles!
What is the benefit of having gone to university if those three years mean nothing in the system? If no one regards the education we earned there to be enough to trust us and give out a chance? Are you giving out chances but there's just too many of us clutching at the same ones?

I refer to us humanities students , but I am certain this branches out further.

Perhaps what we didn't consider when we filled out our UCAS applications was that when we finished our degree, the jobs they listed at the bottom of the subject description, you know the bit: "Where this subject can lead you" those areas of work would, by the time we qualified, be replaced by machines!
Who needs reporters when news is spread before it's half happened via social networks?
Who needs librarians when you check your own books in and out with a machine?
Who needs informants in a museum or an art gallery when Google is a click away on our phones?

This list goes on and on when you start to wonder what you used to aspire to and what you're now reduced to.

Where is our place? I say it again, we are the leftovers, where do you expect us to go?

Saturday, 8 November 2014

Bit of a rant about knobs

I can't shake this so I'm going to say it...some people (of course I'm thinking of some in particular, but I am just going to get this out in an ambiguous way, and that will make me feel better and be the end of it with no further damage because there's no way you've picked up on this so you wont know its you, that's how selfish you've become.) ...some people are just god damn arseholes.

It amazes me how someone can change from being a nice friendly person of one sort, to being a complete and utter ignorant, spiteful, rude, arsehole. It's not my problem if areas of your life aren't matching your standards! If perhaps I have certain areas of my own life that are working out well, maybe you envy those and wish you had the same? Well that's no excuse to be a knob. There are things you have I envy and wish I had a variation of, but I don't glare at you from the corner of my eyes because of that. I don't begrudge you what you have. And besides just because you have certain things, doesn't make you above me and the others you're looking down on, it doesn't give you the right to be so damn rude! It's very Un-English. Your ignorance is what's really pissed me off but I'm going to throw that over my shoulder and just label you as a rude person. However, I cannot throw out the fact that you've changed and in a negative way. I can't like you anymore. I don't expect you to change back to who you used to be for my benefit but I hope I'm not expected to dish out my time and friendship like free candy anymore, it's not happening. It's just not happening.

So that was it, that's all I had to get out of my system. Be who you like, do what you want to do, but don't expect to keep certain friends because some of us have just had enough.

Friday, 7 November 2014

Weight lifted

If I didn't have that man in my life my happiness scale would be covered in dust pushed to the back of an unopened cupboard and would only tick miniscule fractions now and again. I love my family and the kids and I adore my friends but it's not the same.

Until yesterday evening I was wound up so tightly I thought I might snap in half if someone brushed past me. I was stressed out to the point I was overwhelmed and reduced to tears in the middle of the day. I'd barely slept lying in bed tossing and turning and fretting about my life. Then he walks into the coffee shop, looking like some gorgeous mob boss from Boardwalk Empire, there's something about that hat that really makes me notice his brown eyes...anyway, he walks in and I can feel this horrible coil of misery and confusion that's been building up inside for the last three days of being absent from him and having these pencil skirt days during that time has balanced me on the edge of a cliff.

I tell him. He's ripped the idea to shreds before I've even finished and is 100% I don't have to do anything I don't want to. He's not going to join those judgemental eyes or rattle any keys. He's the voice of reason, the voice I actually care to listen to. It helps to have the support of my friends and family, whose motto seems to be, 'do what's best for you' but it's his opinion that makes the final decision in my mind. I'm so utterly grateful that he's supportive.
Love, Respect, Mutual interests, Sex, everything else that is necessary to make a relationship a good one, is all rolled in there, but mainly... and I feel like this tops my list, is Support. He supports who I am, who I want to be, and the decisions I make.

I felt as if a massive whale of weight was lifted off my shoulders. I felt this choke in my throat as if I was breathing again for the first time in days, and I know that it's going to be ok. It's very childish of me, but I'm the kind of person who needs that reassurance now and then, I know it will be because things work out alright in the end, but I still like to have that reassurance. "Everything's going to be ok." "I'm going to be ok." The way I can describe it, which isn't particularly creative, is when you're holding a box, a heavy box and you hold it for some minutes until that ache is in the crook of your elbows, and then you let it down and ahhhhhh, the relief as your arms turn to jelly in relaxation. That's the feeling I got when I was able to get it all out and have the support I needed.

(I didn't get the bus that came along, that's my decision, I'll stand out in the rain for however long it takes)

Thursday, 6 November 2014

The bus.

So the bus came. I'm really in no position not to board. Tears are wretched bloody things. The silent type. The worst type. Big fat quiet tears rolling down cheeks that ache with the effort of holding in a sob. Getting upset is really not going to solve any of this so just pull yourself together and get composed. I don't want anyone to know I'm upset, reduced to tears by this because I know what they'll all say, they'll be supportive and tell me what I think is best but it's not. What I think doesn't really count anymore, not in the real life. By the time anyone in my inner circle reads this it will be too late and these stupid wretched tears wont matter. It's not the most awful thing in the world, but I don't want to do it all the same. It feels wrong, it doesn't feel like me. I wanted them to say no and turn me away. I have to pull myself together. I hate crying. Crying solves absolutely nothing.