So, Week 0 approaches inexorably. It looms over the horizon, a massive wave of maths and queer and debating and university and life and stuff and things to do. SO MUCH STUFF.
After trying to be manly about my illness (read: stupid), I decided to actually get medical advice. Incredibly painless, actually. They have a walk-in clinic. Opens at 8:30. You walk in, they take your name, and then you wait your turn to be seen. I waited about 5-10 minutes to be seen.
The doctor listened to me breathe, stuck things in my ears, made me say "aaahhhh", had a good look all over me, mumbled "39" and "bronchitis" and "here you go". I now have a course of antibiotics and instructions to have paracetamol every four hours to keep my fever under control. Apparently, 39 degrees is too hot for a grown up to be. In fact, it's too hot for anyone to be. (And I thought I was hot because of my parents' ludicrously warm house...!)
In total, this week, there have been four working days. I have worked four hours of these four working days. Grand total of £20 there. Spent a third of that on antibiotics, and probably spent the rest on soup and mouthwash and Ribena (I am drinking A LOT of Ribena.)
However, there are some upsides. For example, I have discovered Wogan's Perfect Recall. I quite enjoy this quiz show, actually. It's hosted by Terry Wogan (long term childhood crush, blame Eurovision) and the format is that you start of with 4 contestants, and the number whittles down in each round. Now, the answers are the same in every single round; it's the questions that change. So, if you can remember what the answers were, then you'll do quite well. Obviously, you need to be quick on that buzzer, etc.
I've taken to have two showers a day now. By the time it gets to about 2pm, I've been sweating so much that I just want to take another one (I take my first at 7:30). So, I'll be doing that. I think I'll wash my hair too. I'll make sure I dry it very very well, don't want to get even more sick.
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
I'm sorry... no, I'm not.
I am currently employed. Hooray! I am a telemarketing operator, to quote my full and complete title. What I do is I call people - "Good morning, Henry Sparker, please." - and then guide them through re-registering for the magazine I'm working for on that particular day. If Henry's not there, not a problem. Either it's "That's okay, can you help me update his details on his behalf?" or, if he's actually left properly, "Okay, I need to speak to your *insert high level job person*" and then get them to do a full registration.
From the first day of my job, I had the idea that I might be quite good at it. Not the best in the world, but I immediately took to the work, found my rhythm and within a day or so, I was already at the level of the girls who started last week.
We get targets set by the hour. At the moment, my target is 10 successful registrations an hour, occasionally 11. A successful registration can be a short re-registration, or a longer full registration with someone new.
(Interestingly, if I am registering the same person but the postal address of their organisation changes, that means I have to do the full registration process, even if the company is the same and their job role hasn't changed.)
Since being set 10 an hour, I've only had a few hours where I've not reached it. Usually, I exceed my target of 10, or hit it right on the nail in the final minutes of the hour. Once, I managed to get 15. I'm not sure how, but people just kept saying "yes, I can help".
Now, the interesting part of what I do happens when Henry himself is not available to do a registration; all you need is a secretary, or a PA, or a colleague of a lower job rank. To get higher numbers per hour, you need to learn how to deal with people who aren't the direct subscriber. Sometimes they don't feel entirely sure they can answer the questions. Sometimes they are busy. Sometimes they've already received five calls already and they're tired of questions. In all cases, my job is to lead them through the questions, as quickly as I can, occasionally feeding answers for some of the questions that can be problematic.
The question that often trips up a registration is called "Digital or print registration?" on my data entry form. What I interpret that as is, "Henry's currently receiving the digital version of the magazine, shall we stick with that format?" You don't give them a choice (paper is expensive, we'd prefer them to take email), or hint too much that this is indeed a registration for the magazine, because for some reason, PAs get very nervous when they sign up their boss for free things. I can understand why, but it is my job to convince them that it's okay, because it's entirely free of charge and this miracle magazine material has useful stuff for any level of management in any size organisation. Plus, you'll help me reach target and get an extra 5 minutes of break.
Occasionally, by the time I get to the last question, which is an auditing question (to prove I'm not just making up subscriptions), the on-their-behalf subscriber sounds very quiet, and a little nervous. I hang up, and for about five seconds, while filling out the call conclusion form, writing S for Short in my time form, and starting a new call, I think about the little girl, Miss Susie Haynes, or whatever, in her office, not entirely sure of what's happened, or what she's done.
Don't worry, Susie.
The challenge of my job is dealing with Katies. Let me explain: I call for Henry Sparker, and instead, Katie picks up the phone. Either Katie's company has a no-name policy, or Katie's on a switchboard and she's incredibly busy and just can't talk, or she can't give details over the phone, or they do all their registrations by email. With these, it's not really Katie's fault, so I let it slide. I have to.
Sometimes Katie knows all the details and is the PA/secretary to Henry (i.e. perfect to do the registration), but refuses to give her full name and/or title. The last Katie scenario is the worst. She can give me that delightful little S on my time sheet, but she refuses to because of some misplaced idea of what security is. You tell strangers your name and job title all the time at parties, Katie, I'm sure; you just don't want to tell me these things because I'm not some anonymous hot bloke in a suit that you can physically see in front of you. As for Miss/Ms/Mrs, well, you'd tell Hot Bloke all that too, but with your low-cut top or your buttoned up "don't talk to me, Johnny" manner.
I know, I'm being harsh here. Katie's not being a twat for no reason. But, I guess people are afraid to be linked to doing anything. Especially when they're not sure they should be doing it.
So, this post is incredibly long so...
TL;DR - I have a job. It's going well, but I need to improve on working with Katies who can help but won't because they're afraid of security. And, in general, I need to continue to work on adapting my approach more to each phone call, developing a flexibility for each situation. I would apologise for being that person who calls on behalf of X Magazine, but, it's my job. I have to do it. So, I won't apologise. So there. :p
I'm surprised at how much I've learnt here, actually. What seemed like a simple, and mind-numbingly boring job has actually become very interesting.
From the first day of my job, I had the idea that I might be quite good at it. Not the best in the world, but I immediately took to the work, found my rhythm and within a day or so, I was already at the level of the girls who started last week.
We get targets set by the hour. At the moment, my target is 10 successful registrations an hour, occasionally 11. A successful registration can be a short re-registration, or a longer full registration with someone new.
(Interestingly, if I am registering the same person but the postal address of their organisation changes, that means I have to do the full registration process, even if the company is the same and their job role hasn't changed.)
Since being set 10 an hour, I've only had a few hours where I've not reached it. Usually, I exceed my target of 10, or hit it right on the nail in the final minutes of the hour. Once, I managed to get 15. I'm not sure how, but people just kept saying "yes, I can help".
Now, the interesting part of what I do happens when Henry himself is not available to do a registration; all you need is a secretary, or a PA, or a colleague of a lower job rank. To get higher numbers per hour, you need to learn how to deal with people who aren't the direct subscriber. Sometimes they don't feel entirely sure they can answer the questions. Sometimes they are busy. Sometimes they've already received five calls already and they're tired of questions. In all cases, my job is to lead them through the questions, as quickly as I can, occasionally feeding answers for some of the questions that can be problematic.
The question that often trips up a registration is called "Digital or print registration?" on my data entry form. What I interpret that as is, "Henry's currently receiving the digital version of the magazine, shall we stick with that format?" You don't give them a choice (paper is expensive, we'd prefer them to take email), or hint too much that this is indeed a registration for the magazine, because for some reason, PAs get very nervous when they sign up their boss for free things. I can understand why, but it is my job to convince them that it's okay, because it's entirely free of charge and this miracle magazine material has useful stuff for any level of management in any size organisation. Plus, you'll help me reach target and get an extra 5 minutes of break.
Occasionally, by the time I get to the last question, which is an auditing question (to prove I'm not just making up subscriptions), the on-their-behalf subscriber sounds very quiet, and a little nervous. I hang up, and for about five seconds, while filling out the call conclusion form, writing S for Short in my time form, and starting a new call, I think about the little girl, Miss Susie Haynes, or whatever, in her office, not entirely sure of what's happened, or what she's done.
Don't worry, Susie.
The challenge of my job is dealing with Katies. Let me explain: I call for Henry Sparker, and instead, Katie picks up the phone. Either Katie's company has a no-name policy, or Katie's on a switchboard and she's incredibly busy and just can't talk, or she can't give details over the phone, or they do all their registrations by email. With these, it's not really Katie's fault, so I let it slide. I have to.
Sometimes Katie knows all the details and is the PA/secretary to Henry (i.e. perfect to do the registration), but refuses to give her full name and/or title. The last Katie scenario is the worst. She can give me that delightful little S on my time sheet, but she refuses to because of some misplaced idea of what security is. You tell strangers your name and job title all the time at parties, Katie, I'm sure; you just don't want to tell me these things because I'm not some anonymous hot bloke in a suit that you can physically see in front of you. As for Miss/Ms/Mrs, well, you'd tell Hot Bloke all that too, but with your low-cut top or your buttoned up "don't talk to me, Johnny" manner.
I know, I'm being harsh here. Katie's not being a twat for no reason. But, I guess people are afraid to be linked to doing anything. Especially when they're not sure they should be doing it.
So, this post is incredibly long so...
TL;DR - I have a job. It's going well, but I need to improve on working with Katies who can help but won't because they're afraid of security. And, in general, I need to continue to work on adapting my approach more to each phone call, developing a flexibility for each situation. I would apologise for being that person who calls on behalf of X Magazine, but, it's my job. I have to do it. So, I won't apologise. So there. :p
I'm surprised at how much I've learnt here, actually. What seemed like a simple, and mind-numbingly boring job has actually become very interesting.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
"Is competition for graduate jobs too tough?"
So, as all graduates have known for ages now, you basically need a 2:1 for most graduate jobs now. I even said it a year ago. According to a recent article, some graduate employers are refusing to interview anyone with a 2:2 or lower. So, the BBC asks (on its ever delightful Have Your Say section), is that too competitive? Should we lower the criteria, make it a bit easier for graduates to get a job?
Here's a fact for you. It might shock some of you, but, here you go.
Graduates do not deserve jobs just for being graduates.
There! I said it! But, it's true. People, not just graduates, should get jobs because they'll be able to do the tasks required of them in the job. So, things like relevant work experience and interpersonal skills help. A degree doesn't in and of itself give you the relevant work experience or important skills required for most jobs out there.
In the past, you could leave school at 16, and then just head out, get work, apprenticeships, and all that. Nowadays, if you're not seen to be entirely hopeless at school work, it seems like you're expected to follow a conveyor belt of school, then Sixth Form, then uni. Uni is just something you do, another three years of school on top of the 12 you've already done, a rite of passage of sorts.
Seems quite sad that just because you're smart enough to do university, you're expected to do it. I know several people who would have been much happier just getting stuck into work from the age of 16 or 18. Admittedly, I know that certain degrees can open the door to certain jobs (you can't work in CERN without some really tricky science under your belt!), but you don't need a degree to lead a team of people, and it seems like you could probably get most qualifications as you work anyway.
So, where am I going with my ramble? Nowhere. To be honest, I'm unsure of what my job prospects are. Sure, I'm smart, I'll probably come out with that golden 2:1 (or even a First!), and I've got some experience from my time on the exec, and I've had employment before. I'm a hard worker. I'd hope I was employable.
However, I know that my module choices so far (i.e. choosing pure over applied) have meant that rather than having things that might be more useful for an employer, I've chosen fun, abstract things that don't immediately have a use, if they have a use at all. I take responsibility for that choice. I chose interest and fun over practicality and use. If that makes me less employable, I am not going to yell about my right to employment because I graduated from a top university.
I guess it's my responsibility to make myself employable. Find something that I can do for society, or learn how to do something that makes me useful to society.
Here's a fact for you. It might shock some of you, but, here you go.
Graduates do not deserve jobs just for being graduates.
There! I said it! But, it's true. People, not just graduates, should get jobs because they'll be able to do the tasks required of them in the job. So, things like relevant work experience and interpersonal skills help. A degree doesn't in and of itself give you the relevant work experience or important skills required for most jobs out there.
In the past, you could leave school at 16, and then just head out, get work, apprenticeships, and all that. Nowadays, if you're not seen to be entirely hopeless at school work, it seems like you're expected to follow a conveyor belt of school, then Sixth Form, then uni. Uni is just something you do, another three years of school on top of the 12 you've already done, a rite of passage of sorts.
Seems quite sad that just because you're smart enough to do university, you're expected to do it. I know several people who would have been much happier just getting stuck into work from the age of 16 or 18. Admittedly, I know that certain degrees can open the door to certain jobs (you can't work in CERN without some really tricky science under your belt!), but you don't need a degree to lead a team of people, and it seems like you could probably get most qualifications as you work anyway.
So, where am I going with my ramble? Nowhere. To be honest, I'm unsure of what my job prospects are. Sure, I'm smart, I'll probably come out with that golden 2:1 (or even a First!), and I've got some experience from my time on the exec, and I've had employment before. I'm a hard worker. I'd hope I was employable.
However, I know that my module choices so far (i.e. choosing pure over applied) have meant that rather than having things that might be more useful for an employer, I've chosen fun, abstract things that don't immediately have a use, if they have a use at all. I take responsibility for that choice. I chose interest and fun over practicality and use. If that makes me less employable, I am not going to yell about my right to employment because I graduated from a top university.
I guess it's my responsibility to make myself employable. Find something that I can do for society, or learn how to do something that makes me useful to society.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Gym-tacular!
I woke up yesterday morning at 9 am, to enjoy my first day off work with nothing planned to do. Since it was a Monday morning, that meant that by noon, I was supposed to be thinking of getting ready to go to they gym for 1 pm.
By 11:30 am, I had finished watched America's Next Top Model, and was lying in bed, lazily watching what was up next, checking out Spotify, practically falling asleep.
I was still in bed at 12:30, just lazing. I managed to get myself out of bed eventually, and made it to the gym by 1:30, which was good.
No gym on Wednesday, I don't think. I'm working (12-3), and I'll be too tired.
I have work today. Hooray! On the "this is what you'll be paid" sheet, I was missing five hours, so I need to check that out with the manager. I have... ten hours of work this week. So, it's not dire, but it's not great either. Such is the lot of a part-time worker earning more than £3.50.
By 11:30 am, I had finished watched America's Next Top Model, and was lying in bed, lazily watching what was up next, checking out Spotify, practically falling asleep.
I was still in bed at 12:30, just lazing. I managed to get myself out of bed eventually, and made it to the gym by 1:30, which was good.
No gym on Wednesday, I don't think. I'm working (12-3), and I'll be too tired.
I have work today. Hooray! On the "this is what you'll be paid" sheet, I was missing five hours, so I need to check that out with the manager. I have... ten hours of work this week. So, it's not dire, but it's not great either. Such is the lot of a part-time worker earning more than £3.50.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, unrelated to Sheffield.
Today I used snooze on my alarm clock when I woke up for the first time in ages. Since going to the gym, I've had more energy in the days, and not had a nap since I joined, but if I go to bed too late, I'm still tired in the mornings. So, as soon as I've done this post, I will be going to bed.
I am lucky; tomorrow, my shift at work doesn't start until 2pm, so I have time to have a leisurely breakfast, watch America's Next Top Model and eat a light lunch, since my shift isn't long enough to take a break.
I like this cycle of Top Model that's on Living at the moment. I think that, since while I've been on holiday, I have watched from the very beginning of Cycle 1 all the way through to today, which was the third episode of Cycle 4. This is the cycle in which Tyra goes insane when a girl laughs off her elimination, as opposed to having an instant nervous breakdown. If you're really bored, go to Youtube, and search "Tyra goes crazy". Pretty easy to find. This is also one of my favourite cycles because of Kahlen, the shy girl who loses out to the winner for not quite pulling off "the Covergirl look". She's given up the modelling gig, and she is a bartender.
I was looking through Facebook pictures, and I saw some of the time David's sister came to visit him, and we had a laugh in his hall's kitchen/dining area. I really miss him... I miss not being able to sit with him quietly and just look at him and feel happy. I talk a lot sometimes, and forget just how nice it is to just exist next to him. For some reason, it makes me feel very happy, even though it's not something physical to hold like a gift, or something that's happening, like a birthday or something exciting. It's just... nice.
I got bit by insects; once on the side of my face, next to my ear, once on my neck.
There was some football violence yesterday in Upton Park, where West Ham were playing. This meant that Mother went to Finsbury Park instead to buy hair products, and they were more expensive there, but she was worried that there'd be a lot of mess from the rioting and chaos.
I went to the gym. I slacked off on the bike, and I should really try harder. There's two different types of stationary bike at the gym, and I think I might try the second type tomorrow, to see if it's any better for me.
I have stabbing needle pains in my gut, my arms, and my legs.
It's midnight-ish. I am going to braid my hair, and then go to sleep so I can wake up in time for Top Model tomorrow morning at 10am. Besides, getting up past 10am is pretty decadent, isn't it?
I am lucky; tomorrow, my shift at work doesn't start until 2pm, so I have time to have a leisurely breakfast, watch America's Next Top Model and eat a light lunch, since my shift isn't long enough to take a break.
I like this cycle of Top Model that's on Living at the moment. I think that, since while I've been on holiday, I have watched from the very beginning of Cycle 1 all the way through to today, which was the third episode of Cycle 4. This is the cycle in which Tyra goes insane when a girl laughs off her elimination, as opposed to having an instant nervous breakdown. If you're really bored, go to Youtube, and search "Tyra goes crazy". Pretty easy to find. This is also one of my favourite cycles because of Kahlen, the shy girl who loses out to the winner for not quite pulling off "the Covergirl look". She's given up the modelling gig, and she is a bartender.
I was looking through Facebook pictures, and I saw some of the time David's sister came to visit him, and we had a laugh in his hall's kitchen/dining area. I really miss him... I miss not being able to sit with him quietly and just look at him and feel happy. I talk a lot sometimes, and forget just how nice it is to just exist next to him. For some reason, it makes me feel very happy, even though it's not something physical to hold like a gift, or something that's happening, like a birthday or something exciting. It's just... nice.
I got bit by insects; once on the side of my face, next to my ear, once on my neck.
There was some football violence yesterday in Upton Park, where West Ham were playing. This meant that Mother went to Finsbury Park instead to buy hair products, and they were more expensive there, but she was worried that there'd be a lot of mess from the rioting and chaos.
I went to the gym. I slacked off on the bike, and I should really try harder. There's two different types of stationary bike at the gym, and I think I might try the second type tomorrow, to see if it's any better for me.
I have stabbing needle pains in my gut, my arms, and my legs.
It's midnight-ish. I am going to braid my hair, and then go to sleep so I can wake up in time for Top Model tomorrow morning at 10am. Besides, getting up past 10am is pretty decadent, isn't it?
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Developments at work.
The median and modal age of the employees at the shop I work in is seventeen. A lot of them work the occasional 10 hour shift (8am to 6pm). However, it's been called to the attention of management in our store that under 18s shouldn't be doing this. So, all the shifts have had to be shuffled around to accommodate this change. The upside of this is that I get an extra shift next week, and potentially more shifts in general!
They've started to accept me at work. They show this mostly by good-naturedly teasing me. They ask me a lot if I have swans and ducks in the lake in my back garden, because I'm posh. I always felt a bit different from all of them, because they almost revelled in their lack of a good GCSE grade in Maths (D was the highest). But... they seem like quite nice people, really, and it's not horrible to work with them at all.
I kinda have a mini-crush on a girl I work with. She's pretty and generally quite nice.
Pay day is coming in a week's time!
They've started to accept me at work. They show this mostly by good-naturedly teasing me. They ask me a lot if I have swans and ducks in the lake in my back garden, because I'm posh. I always felt a bit different from all of them, because they almost revelled in their lack of a good GCSE grade in Maths (D was the highest). But... they seem like quite nice people, really, and it's not horrible to work with them at all.
I kinda have a mini-crush on a girl I work with. She's pretty and generally quite nice.
Pay day is coming in a week's time!
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Work-related moanery...
I moaned that I didn't want to go to work yesterday. My father got very upset.
I didn't really mean it like that I was ungrateful, but work is a bit of a drag, I'll admit. I have my first long shift today - 6 hours, with a 20 minute break. It's pretty annoying that the 17 year old kids I work with get more breaks and do somewhat less work than me.
Onward retail soldiers, marching as to sell!
(At least I've moved on from Bad Debating Jokes to Old Hymn Butchering.)
I didn't really mean it like that I was ungrateful, but work is a bit of a drag, I'll admit. I have my first long shift today - 6 hours, with a 20 minute break. It's pretty annoying that the 17 year old kids I work with get more breaks and do somewhat less work than me.
Onward retail soldiers, marching as to sell!
(At least I've moved on from Bad Debating Jokes to Old Hymn Butchering.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
Inhale, exhale...
My bed started to sink in a corner again. Same side as the first time, but instead of the head of the bed, it was the foot. So, I settled into the other side of the bed to sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard a pretty loud crack. I didn't feel myself sink or anything, but to be on the safe side, I cleared half of the guest room bed, and tried to sleep there.
I was woken at 5:30 by my mother getting ready for work, which included some ironing and blowdrying of hair. Thankfully, my father did fix the bed, and I am most grateful. I think he put some extra nails in this side too, because I never sleep on the left hand side, because the right hand side is closest to the door, and I am intrinsically lazy.
I've been reading more Harry Potter. I'm nearly halfway through HP7, and I have been reading deliberately slowly to make it last. I was planning on taking my brother to the library today, to check out some books (in both senses!) but he went to our cousin's house, so I don't know when he'll be back. It also looks like it might rain all day, so I guess that plan is postponed until Monday.
I went for a bike ride yesterday. That was pretty nice. If the weather clears up today, I might go for a long walk (well, 2 miles).
Work tomorrow, zonino!
I was woken at 5:30 by my mother getting ready for work, which included some ironing and blowdrying of hair. Thankfully, my father did fix the bed, and I am most grateful. I think he put some extra nails in this side too, because I never sleep on the left hand side, because the right hand side is closest to the door, and I am intrinsically lazy.
I've been reading more Harry Potter. I'm nearly halfway through HP7, and I have been reading deliberately slowly to make it last. I was planning on taking my brother to the library today, to check out some books (in both senses!) but he went to our cousin's house, so I don't know when he'll be back. It also looks like it might rain all day, so I guess that plan is postponed until Monday.
I went for a bike ride yesterday. That was pretty nice. If the weather clears up today, I might go for a long walk (well, 2 miles).
Work tomorrow, zonino!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sigh.
I have work tomorrow. 10:30 start!
I also failed at "house, etc." I want to apologise to people, but feel it's not really enough of an issue to apologise. I feel a bit rubbish though, if that's satisfactory.
It's too hot.
I have a new charger. If this one breaks, I'll get very upset with the good folk at Maplins.
I wrote down all the Sims careers in my notebook, and noted the pay of the highest position for each. Hacker is the best. Also good are Music, Entertainment and Pro Athlete. Crime pays better than Law Enforcement (by a significant amount!) and the worst careers are Slacker, Military, Law Enforcement and Politics. Just like real life then. I'd like to be a Mad Scientist; they get paid $1000 a day!
Made the error of weighing myself. I am Officially Fat, like, according to NHS charts and whatnot. But, thank you Madame Heatwave for being too hot for me to exercise. Maybe I'll sweat myself thin.
There's far too many carbs in this house, and not enough meat or vegetables. We had a barbeque yesterday, so we've got leftovers from that; pasta, rice, chow mein, curry sauce, chilli sauce. There was quite a bit Vegetables Ahoy! left, so I ate that with sweet potatoes.
Bleugh... Wednesday!
I also failed at "house, etc." I want to apologise to people, but feel it's not really enough of an issue to apologise. I feel a bit rubbish though, if that's satisfactory.
It's too hot.
I have a new charger. If this one breaks, I'll get very upset with the good folk at Maplins.
I wrote down all the Sims careers in my notebook, and noted the pay of the highest position for each. Hacker is the best. Also good are Music, Entertainment and Pro Athlete. Crime pays better than Law Enforcement (by a significant amount!) and the worst careers are Slacker, Military, Law Enforcement and Politics. Just like real life then. I'd like to be a Mad Scientist; they get paid $1000 a day!
Made the error of weighing myself. I am Officially Fat, like, according to NHS charts and whatnot. But, thank you Madame Heatwave for being too hot for me to exercise. Maybe I'll sweat myself thin.
There's far too many carbs in this house, and not enough meat or vegetables. We had a barbeque yesterday, so we've got leftovers from that; pasta, rice, chow mein, curry sauce, chilli sauce. There was quite a bit Vegetables Ahoy! left, so I ate that with sweet potatoes.
Bleugh... Wednesday!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Things that are currently upsetting me.
I decided to split my packing into four Phases, one to be completed on each day from Tuesday to Friday. Phase I was a resounding success; my bedroom was cleared of rubbish, and packing was started. Phase II was less successful, but still quite good. Some clearing of rubbish in the lounge was done. Phase III, today's phase, is the largest, and most important, since Phase IV is basically two hours of "What's left? Do it now." So, I need to be quite advanced with packing by now. Except, I am not. I have been sleeping all day, and I have no energy left to pack with.
The more I pack, the more I realise that I'm not living with David for 12 weeks. And, I will see him twice, if I am lucky.
No matter what results I get tomorrow, I will not be able to be happy about them for a long time. I find it hard to appreciate my own achievement because I always look at the bad things first. So, even if I do manage to get a First, I'll beat myself up over something, like modules I might have done worse in. I am not sure what I will do if I get a 2:1, or worse.
I am not looking forward to work. They're starting me on 7 July, seven hours a week until I'm trained, then hours based on who works the best. So, if they don't like me, I can't afford to eat next year.
Life is looking good.
The more I pack, the more I realise that I'm not living with David for 12 weeks. And, I will see him twice, if I am lucky.
No matter what results I get tomorrow, I will not be able to be happy about them for a long time. I find it hard to appreciate my own achievement because I always look at the bad things first. So, even if I do manage to get a First, I'll beat myself up over something, like modules I might have done worse in. I am not sure what I will do if I get a 2:1, or worse.
I am not looking forward to work. They're starting me on 7 July, seven hours a week until I'm trained, then hours based on who works the best. So, if they don't like me, I can't afford to eat next year.
Life is looking good.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The hunt begins...
I'm spending roughly 36 hours in my hometown, with my parents. During this time, I hope to job hunt.
The ideal plan is to wake up in time to get a lift with my father to the other side of town - that's where he drops off my cousin and brother so they can attend school. From there, I will do the two shopping parks, then move into town.
An exhausting task - I might ask my dad for some money for coffee.
I should probably get to bed then. It'd make things logistically easier if I do all the rounds early in the day. That way, if I do find positions, I can fill in forms over lunch, and go back round to hand in forms.
I should try to dress well tomorrow, make a good impression.
The ideal plan is to wake up in time to get a lift with my father to the other side of town - that's where he drops off my cousin and brother so they can attend school. From there, I will do the two shopping parks, then move into town.
An exhausting task - I might ask my dad for some money for coffee.
I should probably get to bed then. It'd make things logistically easier if I do all the rounds early in the day. That way, if I do find positions, I can fill in forms over lunch, and go back round to hand in forms.
I should try to dress well tomorrow, make a good impression.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Let's review, it's been a while.
There have been three exams. Probably, on the whole, the easiest ones I'll be taking this summer, since they were all first-term modules. Although, I have to say, I'm looking forward to Algebra II because I enjoy group theory and will enjoy revising that material.
Overall, I am quietly optimistic, but not overly optimistic. I think that I got more than 55 in all of them, and we'll see what happens.
To be eligible to go onto the Masters course, I have to get "good 2:1 marks" on a certain proportion of my modules. Given my course selections, it works out that I need to get the good marks on about two-thirds, three-quarters of my courses. So, it's potentially doable.
~~~
Recently, I've been generally feeling rubbish and very lethargic. I go to be around 11:30pm every night, wake around 8am (give or take an hour). Then, sometimes I'll end up lying in bed again at 10:30 ish and fall asleep for a couple hours. If not, then at some point in the afternoon, I'll end up having a two, three hour nap. And, despite this ridiculously large napping, and the fact I'm not very active in the days, I still get tired enough to sleep through 8 hours.
That's probably not healthy.
I'm trying to eat better. I've taken to eating soup or omelette-pancake for lunch, since it's healthy-ish, I think. I should eat more fruit, and vegetables, generally. I've been making a LOT of cake recently. It's easier than cookies, because you're not sat around the oven the whole time to try and get that perfect "gooey-chewy" consistency that occurs in between seven and eight minutes of baking if your oven is mad-zealous like ours is.
~~~
Then there's the constant worry with money. Overall, I don't have enough this term, but it's workable, given I'm going out so little. And, with group meals, I can afford to eat meat if the boys buy it, and I provide pasta and basics.
I'm worried about finding a job. I asked my mother to look for me this weekend, although I'll have to check she does do this in a couple days' time. I'm going home for my nana's birthday, we're going to a show in Central London, and I'll be with my parents for a couple days after, since I don't start lectures for the week until Tuesday afternoon. So, I can job scout there too.
~~~
TL;DR - I would give life a C+ on the termly report.
Overall, I am quietly optimistic, but not overly optimistic. I think that I got more than 55 in all of them, and we'll see what happens.
To be eligible to go onto the Masters course, I have to get "good 2:1 marks" on a certain proportion of my modules. Given my course selections, it works out that I need to get the good marks on about two-thirds, three-quarters of my courses. So, it's potentially doable.
~~~
Recently, I've been generally feeling rubbish and very lethargic. I go to be around 11:30pm every night, wake around 8am (give or take an hour). Then, sometimes I'll end up lying in bed again at 10:30 ish and fall asleep for a couple hours. If not, then at some point in the afternoon, I'll end up having a two, three hour nap. And, despite this ridiculously large napping, and the fact I'm not very active in the days, I still get tired enough to sleep through 8 hours.
That's probably not healthy.
I'm trying to eat better. I've taken to eating soup or omelette-pancake for lunch, since it's healthy-ish, I think. I should eat more fruit, and vegetables, generally. I've been making a LOT of cake recently. It's easier than cookies, because you're not sat around the oven the whole time to try and get that perfect "gooey-chewy" consistency that occurs in between seven and eight minutes of baking if your oven is mad-zealous like ours is.
~~~
Then there's the constant worry with money. Overall, I don't have enough this term, but it's workable, given I'm going out so little. And, with group meals, I can afford to eat meat if the boys buy it, and I provide pasta and basics.
I'm worried about finding a job. I asked my mother to look for me this weekend, although I'll have to check she does do this in a couple days' time. I'm going home for my nana's birthday, we're going to a show in Central London, and I'll be with my parents for a couple days after, since I don't start lectures for the week until Tuesday afternoon. So, I can job scout there too.
~~~
TL;DR - I would give life a C+ on the termly report.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
[insert some title here...]
I'm probably going to look back on this post in a few hours, once I've slept off most of how I feel, and feel really embarrassed. I'll wonder why I wrote this, like I always do with posts I write in this state.
I don't care right now about that moment. I'm not living that moment right now. I'm in this one, and I guess I have to make the most of it.
~~~
I've been an Analysis peer tutor. I show up at a class, I help kids converge their sequences. Not exactly the best paid job ever, but it gives me something to do, and I love that look that mathematicians get when a concept just rolls into place and sets everything off.
To get paid, I need my passport in person.
Rather than mailing it to me, my family surprise me with a trip to come and see my house. At first, it was "Dad will pop it through your mailbox when he's roughly in the area"... then it was "We're all coming at 1:30. Make sure your room is tidy."
So, D and I clean the house - we hoover, we scrub, we do dishes, I tidy my room, and we remove all of his clothes, and make his [unused] bed, and take all my Pride paraphernalia and stuff it in a drawer somewhere.
They arrive. It's so hollow.
I show them the house. I show them D, who I know is quite worried/terrified. He doesn't show it at all. My parents ask if D would like to come with us to lunch, and we all set off.
We eat lunch. Mother moans a bit, and drinks a whole pint of Carlsberg. We share anecdotes, D does too, and I begin to relax.
We go to Wilkinson's. I buy things, including some stuff for my parents. Whatever. It's £3. I have to ignore this, because of Everything They've Ever Bought Me. To be honest, I'm ignoring this because I regularly waste more than that on vending machines in a week.
We come home, I give my brother some cheesecake, and my parents get coffee. My mug breaks while I pour hot water into it. It simply cracked, and coffee just pooled around it, then dripped into drawers and onto the floor.
Finally they leave.
Later on, I make a tasteh dinner for D and I, and go to see The Dark Knight, which is an AWESOMEcool film.
On the way home, we start to talk about my parents. I then start to tell D about how they were about Matt. I get emotional.
I stay emotional.
We finally get home, after sharing more of ourselves with each other. I leave him in the living room, doing whatever he's doing.
I cry.
I then start to get angry. What the fuck am I doing? I don't feel pain. Not really. I think it's pain. I think it hurts so much when I do what I can, and I live to make myself happy, and it doesn't work out for me, and on top of it, they would never approve. But... other people suffer worse things every single day, and they just COPE. They just learn to deal. They don't crumple and fall.
I start to channel my pseudo-pain, and I realised it needed somewhere to go. And, what better place than the plughole that we like to call the blagosphere?
~~~
I always get a headache after a good cry. I reckon it's super-dehydration. I basically live dehydrated, I realised this a few days ago.
I believe that BST has finished. Audrey's clock is an hour behind mine, and she changes her time automatically so I don't have to.
Summer's gone. Cold bitter winter advances.
I live in hope that it'll all turn out fine, and everything will be not OK, but bearable. And.... I think that I can do this. It'll just take a bit of work. And... keeping D around seems like the best idea ever... cos he's the best thing that's happened to me for a really long time.
[Except, maybe that time I... oh, no, he was involved in that too. :D]
I don't care right now about that moment. I'm not living that moment right now. I'm in this one, and I guess I have to make the most of it.
~~~
I've been an Analysis peer tutor. I show up at a class, I help kids converge their sequences. Not exactly the best paid job ever, but it gives me something to do, and I love that look that mathematicians get when a concept just rolls into place and sets everything off.
To get paid, I need my passport in person.
Rather than mailing it to me, my family surprise me with a trip to come and see my house. At first, it was "Dad will pop it through your mailbox when he's roughly in the area"... then it was "We're all coming at 1:30. Make sure your room is tidy."
So, D and I clean the house - we hoover, we scrub, we do dishes, I tidy my room, and we remove all of his clothes, and make his [unused] bed, and take all my Pride paraphernalia and stuff it in a drawer somewhere.
They arrive. It's so hollow.
I show them the house. I show them D, who I know is quite worried/terrified. He doesn't show it at all. My parents ask if D would like to come with us to lunch, and we all set off.
We eat lunch. Mother moans a bit, and drinks a whole pint of Carlsberg. We share anecdotes, D does too, and I begin to relax.
We go to Wilkinson's. I buy things, including some stuff for my parents. Whatever. It's £3. I have to ignore this, because of Everything They've Ever Bought Me. To be honest, I'm ignoring this because I regularly waste more than that on vending machines in a week.
We come home, I give my brother some cheesecake, and my parents get coffee. My mug breaks while I pour hot water into it. It simply cracked, and coffee just pooled around it, then dripped into drawers and onto the floor.
Finally they leave.
Later on, I make a tasteh dinner for D and I, and go to see The Dark Knight, which is an AWESOMEcool film.
On the way home, we start to talk about my parents. I then start to tell D about how they were about Matt. I get emotional.
I stay emotional.
We finally get home, after sharing more of ourselves with each other. I leave him in the living room, doing whatever he's doing.
I cry.
I then start to get angry. What the fuck am I doing? I don't feel pain. Not really. I think it's pain. I think it hurts so much when I do what I can, and I live to make myself happy, and it doesn't work out for me, and on top of it, they would never approve. But... other people suffer worse things every single day, and they just COPE. They just learn to deal. They don't crumple and fall.
I start to channel my pseudo-pain, and I realised it needed somewhere to go. And, what better place than the plughole that we like to call the blagosphere?
~~~
I always get a headache after a good cry. I reckon it's super-dehydration. I basically live dehydrated, I realised this a few days ago.
I believe that BST has finished. Audrey's clock is an hour behind mine, and she changes her time automatically so I don't have to.
Summer's gone. Cold bitter winter advances.
I live in hope that it'll all turn out fine, and everything will be not OK, but bearable. And.... I think that I can do this. It'll just take a bit of work. And... keeping D around seems like the best idea ever... cos he's the best thing that's happened to me for a really long time.
[Except, maybe that time I... oh, no, he was involved in that too. :D]
Saturday, October 04, 2008
More morning blog action.
Checking out Olli's blag, found a post commenting on a programme about an 8 year old anorexic.
When I read the post and reflected on it, it made me think about my own weight issues. I think that pretty much all women have had at least *some* issue with weight, or food - not necessarily life-crippling, but maybe a passing thought.
My mom started gymming it a lot in my Upper Sixth year, three/four times a week. She'd come home from work, exhausted, pack up a gym bag and walk straight out again, come back in a few hours time, super exhausted and shiny, and she would eat. Tofu and rice, or macaroni cheese, or some of the leftover Chinese take-out that we have on a Wednesday, or maybe a nutritious fried egg'n'chips. [For a vegetarian, she really doesn't eat many vegetables.]
She complains quite often that she's never losing any weight. First, she gyms. She might be gaining muscle. Second, is an all-carb diet the best way to do things...? [But, as she often says, what do I know? I'm just a university student, I don't know everything/anything.]
My father is... well, a clueless man, when it comes to dealing with sensitive teenage girls and body issues. I remember years of him calling me "Slim" as a joke, and setting up the decrepit rowing machine in corners of the house once in a while, encouranging me to use it. The last time he did that was about a year ago. He set it up in the garage, put a radio in there, and told me to do that for ten minutes a day and I'd start to look really good, cos I was a bit fat.
He is also quite weird when it comes to dealing with food. He loves to mention how I should eat a little healthier - "Why don't you try some salad?" - but he insists on filling the house with croissants, biscuits, muffins, Nutrigrain bars, Rocky bars, simple carbs, snacky crap. Mixed messages, anyone?
I'm not too good with food myself. I have a tendency to think bizarre things, like I don't deserve to eat, which is ridiculous, but I still think it. I also look at myself, and, of course, I do think I'm fat. And, I'm not too good at exercising... so, I eat less. And when I do, it feels like a Big Deal, cos I have to Watch what and how much I eat.
When I'm at school, or university, my timetable tends to let me place eating in a slot. I eat at x'o clock, where x takes 3 values a day, plus/minus an hour, so I can ignore the fact that it's Eating, ZOMG, it's just another thing to do in the day, and it's a normal human thing to do, and I can get on with it.
I can't do that on weekends, or in holidays. The lack of structure screws my sleep up, and my eating.
When I started my job at the warehouse over the summer, I didn't have a nice motorised truck to pull my cages around like I did towards the end. I had to push and pull heavy cages laden with all sorts all around the huge warehouse, then out to the marshalling bays, and repeat, for 8 hours a day. The drinks were the worst. Imagine a cage 2m high, filled with cans of lager, or 2 litre bottles of pop. Imagine me pulling that. It was really really tough.
I was also suffering from a lack of routine. My shift started at 2pm and ended at 10pm, and if I woke up at about 10-11am, I could easily waste this time, and end up leaving the house without eating at all, or having just some toast. There was a tea break in my shift; I liked to take it at 6pm. I ate a small Quiche Lorraine and drank water exclusively in that break for the first month.
Strenous work + hardly eating = Sarah losing just under a stone in 2-3 weeks.
Dad was pretty pleased. I'd never seen him smile so much. I'd come down the stairs to watch TV or have a cup of tea, and he'd say, "You look good. You're losing weight!" and nod, because he got me the job, and it's therefore his good work that made me look so *awesome* because I was so fat and horrible before.
Mother also commented that I looked better too, and so did a few other random people.
I felt like shit.
I was tired from my job, I was hurting from my job, I was stressed because I was crap at my job, and, to top it all off, it turns out that I was fat and ugly before I got the job, but a bit of unhealthy weight loss makes it *all better*.
After a while, I got trained on the truck, and started to make myself eat at least two good meals a day. Towards the end, it became three small meals and a bedtime snack. I started to put on a little weight gradually, and I felt happier, because my trousers weren't falling down anymore.
Dad still thought I looked brilliant though, because I was skinnier.
Now I'm back at uni, I live with D and I eat with him at dinner time mostly. Lunch is packed in my bag, and breakfast is part of the routine. It's harder to fall into bad patterns. And, I like to eat with D, which makes it easier to stick to.
~~~
I'm not entirely sure what point I was trying to make with this post. I guess it's just a happy little insight into my personal story.
When I read the post and reflected on it, it made me think about my own weight issues. I think that pretty much all women have had at least *some* issue with weight, or food - not necessarily life-crippling, but maybe a passing thought.
My mom started gymming it a lot in my Upper Sixth year, three/four times a week. She'd come home from work, exhausted, pack up a gym bag and walk straight out again, come back in a few hours time, super exhausted and shiny, and she would eat. Tofu and rice, or macaroni cheese, or some of the leftover Chinese take-out that we have on a Wednesday, or maybe a nutritious fried egg'n'chips. [For a vegetarian, she really doesn't eat many vegetables.]
She complains quite often that she's never losing any weight. First, she gyms. She might be gaining muscle. Second, is an all-carb diet the best way to do things...? [But, as she often says, what do I know? I'm just a university student, I don't know everything/anything.]
My father is... well, a clueless man, when it comes to dealing with sensitive teenage girls and body issues. I remember years of him calling me "Slim" as a joke, and setting up the decrepit rowing machine in corners of the house once in a while, encouranging me to use it. The last time he did that was about a year ago. He set it up in the garage, put a radio in there, and told me to do that for ten minutes a day and I'd start to look really good, cos I was a bit fat.
He is also quite weird when it comes to dealing with food. He loves to mention how I should eat a little healthier - "Why don't you try some salad?" - but he insists on filling the house with croissants, biscuits, muffins, Nutrigrain bars, Rocky bars, simple carbs, snacky crap. Mixed messages, anyone?
I'm not too good with food myself. I have a tendency to think bizarre things, like I don't deserve to eat, which is ridiculous, but I still think it. I also look at myself, and, of course, I do think I'm fat. And, I'm not too good at exercising... so, I eat less. And when I do, it feels like a Big Deal, cos I have to Watch what and how much I eat.
When I'm at school, or university, my timetable tends to let me place eating in a slot. I eat at x'o clock, where x takes 3 values a day, plus/minus an hour, so I can ignore the fact that it's Eating, ZOMG, it's just another thing to do in the day, and it's a normal human thing to do, and I can get on with it.
I can't do that on weekends, or in holidays. The lack of structure screws my sleep up, and my eating.
When I started my job at the warehouse over the summer, I didn't have a nice motorised truck to pull my cages around like I did towards the end. I had to push and pull heavy cages laden with all sorts all around the huge warehouse, then out to the marshalling bays, and repeat, for 8 hours a day. The drinks were the worst. Imagine a cage 2m high, filled with cans of lager, or 2 litre bottles of pop. Imagine me pulling that. It was really really tough.
I was also suffering from a lack of routine. My shift started at 2pm and ended at 10pm, and if I woke up at about 10-11am, I could easily waste this time, and end up leaving the house without eating at all, or having just some toast. There was a tea break in my shift; I liked to take it at 6pm. I ate a small Quiche Lorraine and drank water exclusively in that break for the first month.
Strenous work + hardly eating = Sarah losing just under a stone in 2-3 weeks.
Dad was pretty pleased. I'd never seen him smile so much. I'd come down the stairs to watch TV or have a cup of tea, and he'd say, "You look good. You're losing weight!" and nod, because he got me the job, and it's therefore his good work that made me look so *awesome* because I was so fat and horrible before.
Mother also commented that I looked better too, and so did a few other random people.
I felt like shit.
I was tired from my job, I was hurting from my job, I was stressed because I was crap at my job, and, to top it all off, it turns out that I was fat and ugly before I got the job, but a bit of unhealthy weight loss makes it *all better*.
After a while, I got trained on the truck, and started to make myself eat at least two good meals a day. Towards the end, it became three small meals and a bedtime snack. I started to put on a little weight gradually, and I felt happier, because my trousers weren't falling down anymore.
Dad still thought I looked brilliant though, because I was skinnier.
Now I'm back at uni, I live with D and I eat with him at dinner time mostly. Lunch is packed in my bag, and breakfast is part of the routine. It's harder to fall into bad patterns. And, I like to eat with D, which makes it easier to stick to.
~~~
I'm not entirely sure what point I was trying to make with this post. I guess it's just a happy little insight into my personal story.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Am I thinking too much, or am I in too deep?
On Monday, we had a talk with Roger Tribe, quite possibly the most enthusiastic man I've ever met. [It seems like an age has passed since Monday and this morning; maybe it's just the fact that I'm back to a comfortable lecture rut again.]
He made me think about my future, what I want to do, or achieve. Three years or four? Applied or pure? Slacker or success?
There was a slide he made, where he outlined a mere handful of the HUGE POSSIBILITIES that a Mathematics undergrad can have when s/he tosses the graduation hat thing up high. One was PhD. I know D, and a few of my other friends, really want to do that, and for a while, I did too. I'm not so sure now.
Another possibility was Poet. Some people laughed when Roger mentioned it, but I actually seriously considered it for a second or two. However, I decided it's not a great idea. I'm no Sylvia Plath, and I like poetry to be something I can just do when I like, not when the deadline's coming up. It would be amazing though, to be a Real Writer. To have a book out, that I made, that steadily sells, and gets studied by children in school, and gets discussed academically because people would take my work, would take ME, seriously. That would actually be quite cool.
Thinking about my degree got me thinking about other things. K, El Presidente of the debating society, became a good friend to me over the summer, and we have the banter-rhythm I so desired when I first joined the society and saw how everyone just fitted and I wasn't quite there yet.
We talked about What I Wanted To Achieve, and What I'm Doing. This was mostly about how debating works in my life, and what I want it to do for me, but... it makes me think of other things too. It's hard to work out what I want to say.
I guess... I'm just not ready to move past being 17 and doing what the f*ck I like, and stop being so crazy, work on my degree, think about my future. The future terrifies me. I don't want to become my parents so badly, and yet, I see them in me increasingly these days.
Writing this, I actually have my head in my hands while I think between sentences, as if I'm cradling my own thoughts. Weird.
I wish I could sleep differently. I wake up so early, then by 10pm I just get sleepy and by 11pm I'm gone.
I'm going to read a book on Number Theory now. Or knit. Or, do one for a while, then do the other. We'll see.
He made me think about my future, what I want to do, or achieve. Three years or four? Applied or pure? Slacker or success?
There was a slide he made, where he outlined a mere handful of the HUGE POSSIBILITIES that a Mathematics undergrad can have when s/he tosses the graduation hat thing up high. One was PhD. I know D, and a few of my other friends, really want to do that, and for a while, I did too. I'm not so sure now.
Another possibility was Poet. Some people laughed when Roger mentioned it, but I actually seriously considered it for a second or two. However, I decided it's not a great idea. I'm no Sylvia Plath, and I like poetry to be something I can just do when I like, not when the deadline's coming up. It would be amazing though, to be a Real Writer. To have a book out, that I made, that steadily sells, and gets studied by children in school, and gets discussed academically because people would take my work, would take ME, seriously. That would actually be quite cool.
Thinking about my degree got me thinking about other things. K, El Presidente of the debating society, became a good friend to me over the summer, and we have the banter-rhythm I so desired when I first joined the society and saw how everyone just fitted and I wasn't quite there yet.
We talked about What I Wanted To Achieve, and What I'm Doing. This was mostly about how debating works in my life, and what I want it to do for me, but... it makes me think of other things too. It's hard to work out what I want to say.
I guess... I'm just not ready to move past being 17 and doing what the f*ck I like, and stop being so crazy, work on my degree, think about my future. The future terrifies me. I don't want to become my parents so badly, and yet, I see them in me increasingly these days.
Writing this, I actually have my head in my hands while I think between sentences, as if I'm cradling my own thoughts. Weird.
I wish I could sleep differently. I wake up so early, then by 10pm I just get sleepy and by 11pm I'm gone.
I'm going to read a book on Number Theory now. Or knit. Or, do one for a while, then do the other. We'll see.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Sunday, Sunday, so good to me... Sort of.
Last day at work! It's the start of the dreaded Christmas Pick though. I have mentioned it being hard work earlier, but... let me elaborate.
[I don't really have much else to do until the shopping is brought home. I found a pretty little blue dot on my toast last night, and had to chuck a half-loaf into the bin - and there's no NutriGrain bars left. Sucks to be me!]
The Christmas Pick is basically the regular picking [alcohol, soft drinks, food, toiletries, cleaning products] and then... you have the stuff they only sell at Chrimble time. We're talking huge boxes of chocolates and advent calendars for now, I think, but it'll get crazier at the time gets closer.
I'm glad today is my last day.
Lucy [my iPod] was acting really weird last week, skipping tracks and refusing to play. After learning how to reset her, she seems to be okay, although I haven't really tested her properly.
8 days. 8 days. The more I think about it, the longer it seems.
Zomg, on Hollyoaks, one guy might have given HIV to his brother via the tramp they both slept with, lol.
I feel funny, I'm going to go and attempt food.
[I don't really have much else to do until the shopping is brought home. I found a pretty little blue dot on my toast last night, and had to chuck a half-loaf into the bin - and there's no NutriGrain bars left. Sucks to be me!]
The Christmas Pick is basically the regular picking [alcohol, soft drinks, food, toiletries, cleaning products] and then... you have the stuff they only sell at Chrimble time. We're talking huge boxes of chocolates and advent calendars for now, I think, but it'll get crazier at the time gets closer.
I'm glad today is my last day.
Lucy [my iPod] was acting really weird last week, skipping tracks and refusing to play. After learning how to reset her, she seems to be okay, although I haven't really tested her properly.
8 days. 8 days. The more I think about it, the longer it seems.
Zomg, on Hollyoaks, one guy might have given HIV to his brother via the tramp they both slept with, lol.
I feel funny, I'm going to go and attempt food.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
ZOMG
I have just found a link to this here blag on SOMEONE ELSE'S BLAG.
You know what this means, right? Yes. It means that Jeremy Paxman will see into my mind and realise he wants to sleep with me. Actually, it doesn't. It means that someone actually reads my blog and isn't ashamed of it. Wool! Go me.
So, what's been going on? Work was... interesting. Here I am at 2:15pm, lounging on the bed, waiting for Teh Gov't to get back to me on a question I have about their HC1 form [why so many forms? and boxes and questions?] It's a fairly important phone call. I've just been informed by Specsavers that it's time for them to take my money and tell my how blind I am, take more money and fix my vision with glass. If the NHS can see how poor I am, then they might take pity and give me a few shiny pennies to help me afford some bread and milk :)
So, yes. Here I am, waiting for this call. Then, my agency calls. "Erm, you know the managers cancelled all the agency workers for the week? They just called me and asked where all their agency workers were. Come into work now, kthnxbai."
Thankfully, the call arrived in between the super-speedy shower and the hurried eating. So, all my questions were answered and I got into work at 3pm.
Well, the upshot of this is that I earnt £30 today. The downside: I have knitted a centimetre of hat over three days. :( And, I missed out on a game of online chess with D. He's currently kicking my ass. Not literally. His legs are quite long, but not 100 miles long.
Oh man. My sight test is in 7 hours time. I like to sleep for 8, or I get cranky, irritable and whatnot.
I hope I get that cute optician I got last time. Or the other cute one. Eye candy at Specsavers, lulz.
You know what this means, right? Yes. It means that Jeremy Paxman will see into my mind and realise he wants to sleep with me. Actually, it doesn't. It means that someone actually reads my blog and isn't ashamed of it. Wool! Go me.
So, what's been going on? Work was... interesting. Here I am at 2:15pm, lounging on the bed, waiting for Teh Gov't to get back to me on a question I have about their HC1 form [why so many forms? and boxes and questions?] It's a fairly important phone call. I've just been informed by Specsavers that it's time for them to take my money and tell my how blind I am, take more money and fix my vision with glass. If the NHS can see how poor I am, then they might take pity and give me a few shiny pennies to help me afford some bread and milk :)
So, yes. Here I am, waiting for this call. Then, my agency calls. "Erm, you know the managers cancelled all the agency workers for the week? They just called me and asked where all their agency workers were. Come into work now, kthnxbai."
Thankfully, the call arrived in between the super-speedy shower and the hurried eating. So, all my questions were answered and I got into work at 3pm.
Well, the upshot of this is that I earnt £30 today. The downside: I have knitted a centimetre of hat over three days. :( And, I missed out on a game of online chess with D. He's currently kicking my ass. Not literally. His legs are quite long, but not 100 miles long.
Oh man. My sight test is in 7 hours time. I like to sleep for 8, or I get cranky, irritable and whatnot.
I hope I get that cute optician I got last time. Or the other cute one. Eye candy at Specsavers, lulz.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Work sucks. Not working sucks more.
So, I work with an agency. They've been giving me work in a "distribution centre" [read: warehouse] for the past month and a bit. So far, it's been pretty regular: Monday-Friday, 2pm til 10pm, I come home exhausted, I get paid.
Sometimes they send me home early. That's annoying. But, it's okay, because I never lose more than a tenner a day.
Recently, they've said "We don't need you, kthnxbai" which is REALLY HELPFUL, considering my current financial state. Each day I lose is a maximum of £40 lost [yeah, I'm on minimum wage, but moneys are moneys].
So far, I can afford a roof and food. I can't yet afford books, or drinks, or travel [for debating], or... well, anything else that makes life a bit more fun.
That's a little lie, actually. Erm... there might be someone that makes my life much more fun for free.
Yes. It's him.
It's Barack Obama. <3
Sometimes they send me home early. That's annoying. But, it's okay, because I never lose more than a tenner a day.
Recently, they've said "We don't need you, kthnxbai" which is REALLY HELPFUL, considering my current financial state. Each day I lose is a maximum of £40 lost [yeah, I'm on minimum wage, but moneys are moneys].
So far, I can afford a roof and food. I can't yet afford books, or drinks, or travel [for debating], or... well, anything else that makes life a bit more fun.
That's a little lie, actually. Erm... there might be someone that makes my life much more fun for free.
Yes. It's him.
It's Barack Obama. <3
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