Archive for Cheese sammich
Imitating life and art.
So around the time I was asked the question below, I was (briefly) living it. A very desirable and pleasingly feasible third party rocked up and stuck around for five days, half of which while the Boy was out of town, the rest after the Boy returned.
(Perhaps I should come up with some fun but non-identifying handles for people, but the reason J and I used our own names at swingers parties wasn’t to make a bold lifestyle statement, it was just paucity of imagination. So Boy = J, other boy = old friend.)
Super-quick work update
Last week the guy who sacked me casually confirmed me as a permanent employee.
I casually thanked him and went back to my desk.
I’m not sure this reflects particularly well on either of us, but I’m happy.
36% of my waking life
New job… hum.
I wrote the post below last Thursday, and I’m now feeling way better about the situation. The simple act of putting my thoughts on paper helped me see things more calmly, as did talking it through with J.
He pointed out that this is the first time I’ve NOT gone into a company as the bright young thing, so proving myself is gonna feel harder but should be a good process to go through.
Plus, I finally have some work to do; not much and not very engaging, but it’s at least a chance to get to grips with standard operating procedures.
The main issues:
I’m bored!!! I’m frustrated!!!
Bored because there is very little work to do. Frustrated because when work comes in, it seems pretty unlikely that any of it will be creative. The way the company is structured, I’m not sure creative work would even come my way; I think it might be cross-charged to the guys downstairs.
I did a lot of promo work in my last job – sales aids, websites, conference stands – but that was the boring bit. The fun bit was working on new concepts, and I did a reasonable amount of that too. I never did any med ed (the really, really boring stuff where you write monographs and key opinion leader slides).
But I’m worried that here med ed is gonna be the bread and butter, and the promo work is gonna be *sigh* the fun bit.
I’m trying to be grown-up about this. I know that sulking because the job isn’t what I expected isn’t going to help me, and it certainly isn’t going to encourage anyone here to help me. Complaining about what I don’t have is the perfect way to miss what’s under my nose, and I think this job could offer some great experience, just nowt creative.
I need to be proactive and create a system I’m happy to work within, but I’m not very good at that. Plus the junior writer, who joined two months ago from uni, is awesome at everything. This is great for the company, and she’s a lovely person, but it’s making me feel threatened.
The fact that she is so young, already so good at her job, and so freakin’ smart makes me feel like a charlatan. Like maybe I’ve been lucky so far, but next to her it’ll be obvious that I’m not that great.
So, positive, sanity-affirming plan of action:
Stay open-minded
Throw myself into stuff
Be proactive
Be humble
Let people teach me
Look for/create projects that involve concept work
Reassess portfolio in six months’ time
If I haven’t done any work I’m proud of by then, or alternatively grown into a position where doing creative isn’t so important, it’ll be time to hit the classifieds
2009
What better way to start the new year than finding yourself at 0630 in the local cop shop, saucer-eyed and gurning, trying to explain that the police have requisitioned access to your building. Try even saying requisitioned with that many drugs inside you.
It turns out there was a fire. Until 0005 on 01.01.09, there was a launderette on the ground floor. Now there is just a big hole and a lot of soot.
It’s a great testament to Edwardian architecture that the rest of the building is still structurally sound, and fortunately the place was empty so no one was hurt.
But there is smoke damage, water damage and post hoc structural damage (where the fire brigade gained entry to each floor).
There is also no power – the meters are melted to a wall somewhere. It’s likely to stay that way for at least a week (a third of the days we have left in the UK) so I can’t see us letting the place anytime soon.
Happy new year!
This is not a pipe dream
I have no idea who reads this blog. According to the stats, hundreds of you. According to the comments, about half a dozen.
If you know me well and you’re hearing this news for the first time, I apologise for the impersonal means of its conveyance.
Back against the wall
Hah! So when I said “coming soon” in the post below, I clearly meant “coming in a month or so, if poor health and over-work don’t do for me first”.
Have spent most of my time in the office lately (was pondering yesterday whether it is more depressing to eat toast and marmite for three meals a day, or to eat three meals a day at my desk). Failing that I’ve been sleeping or hanging around hospitals (preferably in draughty corridors wearing backless gowns).
Ordinarily this kind of behaviour sends me a little crazy, in a bad way – highly-strung, tearful, out-of-control feeling. But for some reason this time I’m still cheery. Manic, yes, but in a good, enjoying the adrenalin way.
Still thought last night’s dreams were a bit sketchy though. They were long and complicated, but only two bits stood out a while after waking:
•Spilling big grains of sea salt from a tightly wrapped newspaper package onto my kitchen floor
•Admiring someone’s engagement ring. It had three stones in a rough clover shape, two enormous diamonds and a huge aquamarine. Experienced mixed feelings: jealousy, vulgarity, appreciation of aesthetic.
For some reason stones and salt seem pretty symbolic. Wonder if they are?
Anyway, normal service will resume at some point. Fuck knows when.
Second honeymoon
I’m off to Paris for a second honeymoon (read: dirty weekend), just two months after coming back from the first.
J and I got quite a bit of cash as wedding gifts, because it’s traditional in Spain to give the bride an envelope of money rather than a toaster or gravy boat (my mother was informed that it would be very rude indeed were I to refuse the envelopes, and I hate being rude).
So we had all this money, in Euros, and were wondering what to do with it. We definitely didn’t want more stuff – we already have seven years of stuff we’re trying to get rid of.
On top of that, I tend to believe that crazy experiences are worth more than most three-dimensional things – they don’t break or devalue, for a start, and happy memories are always going to make you smile.
So, what did we want to experience? Easy.
Fine dining! Fancy living! MICHELIN STARS (plural)!
So tonight, I am going to be eating here,
Le Pre Catelan
sleeping here,
Hotel du Petit Moulin
and wearing these (NSFW).
Ooh la la!
Therapy odyssey > thodyssey?
So I’m four weeks in an kinda fascinated by the process, but possibly the sort of fascination you’d also have watching a hooded cobra hypnotise its prey.
I’ve written various notes and scribbles about the sessions as they’ve been and gone, but that’s old news now. Here are the topline data:
Wk 1: Bad. Left me feeling upset and vulnerable.
Wk 2: Good. Gave me some useful ideas about how J and I relate to each other when we fight.
Wk 3. Bad then good. Edgy and awkward, but I realised something amazing just after I left.
Wk 4. Good-ish…
But this week’s therapy degenerated into talking about how therapy makes me awkward and uncomfortable. (Aside – I tore my left adductor some years ago and went to see an osteopath.
Me: It hurts when I do this. Him: I suggest you stop doing that then; best £35 I’ve ever spent.*)
Anyway, back to the therapy. I said that I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep coming, she said we could talk more about that feeling next week. Hmmm… I wonder how many dodgy therapists use their understanding of the human condition to keep unassertive people on their books for years?
I’ve definitely got some good stuff from the process, but each hour I spend there is like having teeth pulled without anaesthetic. Difficult to tell right now what the cost/benefit ratio is, although I suspect the credit crunch might decide for me quite soon.
*It wasn’t actually the best £35 I’ve spent until he’d stripped me to my underwear and done painful things to me.
Things I am worried about right now
* All the books I’ll never get round to reading
* If I work full time and have kids, will I get home early enough to cook them proper food?
* The potential for cannibalism among pigeons that peck at discarded chicken bones
These are much better than the things I was worrying about last week.
