All 6 entries tagged Unemployment
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June 18, 2006
And my blog doesn't even get a look in.
I've been suffering from writer's block somewhat. Not just blog wise, but just generally. Then I think of ideas…but somehow can't bring myself to write them. I think I've got The Fear of some sort. As if I'm convinced that I can't write particularly well anymore, but I'm damned if I'm going to just do it and find out.
I think part of it is due to the feeling of being in limbo. No matter what you're doing (out and about, or having a nap just for the sake of it), the gap between jobs conjures a feeling of being suspended in time. Weeks go slowly, somehow simultaneously flashing by and all of a sudden you haven't had a 'proper' job for 3 months.
How did that happen?
I've written another review for BBC music, this time of Keane - Under The Iron Sea but it reads badly, as sub–editing removed both the flow and the intention of the thing. As proven by the third public comment.
So does this mean that it's a good or a bad CD? I wish reviewers would just give it to us straight rather than generate this pretentious waffle!
Well said, Harri! It was much clearer before the subbing. But that's the way the editing hierarchy works. There has to be a process, so you can't really knock it's existence.
On the jobs front: I worked at Sugar rivals, Bliss, for two weeks while their editorial assistant was on hols, and have had two interviews. I've got another one coming up early next week, but there's no writing whatsoever.
One of them would've provided a job…but they weren't allowed to hire, and haven't had the verdict on the second one yet. Not hopeful though, as it was a BBC interview and this knowledge apparently flattened my brain. I didn't talk rubbish, but I certainly didn't sell myself well enough, or show how much useful prep I'd done.
I keep thinking of opinion based things to write on here…but keep getting struck by The Fear. I'll make more of an effort next week and see how I get on.
Until then pop–pickers…or something.
May 07, 2006
I was just looking back at photos on my blog and remembering happy times.
Isn't it weird how much can change in a year?
Have spent the majority of my day fending off this weird migrainey thing that I've had for a few days. Painkillers won't kill it. Also watched Lati play piano – she was ace.
Fingers crossed for sun tomorrow. Either way, may well get myself down to the beach and sit.
May 01, 2006
This is the day that I was meant to wake up all refreshed and ready to face the few gigs of Carling Live 24 that I was due to attend.
Instead, I attempted to wake up at 8am to do cleaning, more washing, and some job stuff, but spent a few hours bleary eyed in bed, drifting in and out of conscious reach of my alarm playing Radio 4 at me (the station, not the band), and got up at 10. Ish.
One bowl of apricot wheats later, I finished off my cuts book in front of trashy daytime TV (as best I could missing a magazine and print outs) bunged some washing in, woke up in the shower, and went for coffee at family friends' house.
My housemate asked if his lip was meant to look like that and looked a bit wistful when I said yes. The madman was intending on readying himself to go to an afternoon lecture.
After coffee, I bought some milk and other essentials. Like bacon. And squash. And HP sauce. And cleaned my way up to meeting Milly in Brixton for a gig adventure.
Carling Live 24 review(s)
And I'm going to have to leave it there until I've finished writing my review, to make sure that there's no crossover between blog and review.
In the meanwhile though, check out Michael and Keeley's review at slash music on the Channel 4 site
Very impressively, they managed to keep up with their "as it happens" web exclusive and had far less sleep and ate far more nasty sandwiches than I. Friends: I salute you.
April 30, 2006
…get hideously bored, as it turns out. Temporarily distracted by the next instalment of The Apprentice (about bloody time he got booted out), Thursday morning felt empty. I woke up with a start at about 7am, but wasn't hungry and couldn't think of anything decent to get up for.
So I went back to sleep.
After getting up though, I mooched for a bit, ate breakfast, read the paper from the day before, washed my hair…then did some more mooching.
I admired everything in my leaving beauty bag again, looked at my lovely flowers and pined for more leaving snacks; but it got to the stage where I was actually twiddling my thumbs, so I went up to mine…and did some washing.
Then I sat. And did some more thumb twiddling.
Boredom firmly sets in
Is this what unemployment is like? I think I'm meant to be gallvanting and doing all those things that I've always gone "if I didn't have a job, I'd…". Somehow, my brain is just back in school summer holiday mode. i.e. FOR GOD'S SAKE GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO.
So I was grateful to be invited to grab a sandwich with a friend, then I ran some errands. Looked in H&M and felt far too guilty to spend money that I need to eke out. I'm sure I've said this before, but it's like saving for an involuntary pension.
My brain says "just bugger off on holiday for weeks on end", but then my conscience says "then you'll come home jobless and peniless and I'll pack you off home".
An Alexander Technique lesson later, I couldn't be bothered to go to the gig I was meant to go to, or to the club I was going to go to, and settle down to watch some comedy.
Note to self: You must not watch endless crap on daytime telly.
Unexpected turn of events
Things went askew when I got too bored to stay up any longer at about 11, and as soon as I got to my room, I heard a car door slam. I peered out the window, and after some neck contorting, read the word "police" on top of the car just as I heard my housemate and two other voices come in the front door.
He'd been mugged on the path that crosses the park opposite our house, at about 10.30pm. Three teenagers had made off with his laptop and left him with a very split lip and cuts and bruises on his head.
Off we went to casualty, where we sat til 4.30am. I fed him lovehearts to counter the shock, as his lip was burning and hot tea wasn't really going to work.
Most of the sitting was in the waiting room with:
- Someone who'd overdosed but was firmly refusing to let his family order for his stomach to be pumped. The nurse explained that as whatever he'd taken, in the quantity he'd taken, wouldn't have much side effect, they could take him home.
- Someone who comes in quite often, and thought it was the daytime. The staff were very genial in dealing with him.
- Four boys, one of whom had twisted his knee really badly. All of whom were slowly sobering up.
- A woman who was violently sick several times.
- Some others who will remain a mystery, as they kept themselves to themselves.
- A crappy TV channel.
- No magazines, or newspapers, or anything. In a waiting room!
When we got moved to wait in Curtain 8, I had flashbacks of being young.
As well as living in hospital accommodation for a good while, I was also babysat by my dad's secretary a lot when he was a surgeon = lots and lots of time in hospitals. The sheets, pillowcases and blankets on the bed were very very familiar and inviting, especially at 4am. My housemate was insisting that I have a nap, but I would have fallen deeply asleep and refused to move if I'd done that.
After a frustratingly short check by the doctor, which wasn't at all thorough, informative or cautionary, we went back home and both gratefully sank into our beds.
Last thoughts before I went to bed was a what if – what if I had gone out that evening? My housemate would have come back to an empty house and might have gone further into shock, or been concussed and not realised, or have had to sit for hours and hours in casualty on his own, getting worked up inside his own head that everyone must think he's the type to start fights. It's strange how self conscious people are in the most serious of situations.
It did reinforce the "everything happens for a reason" way of thinking…but then I suppose it could just have been chance. But let's leave the fate and destiny hypothesising to another day…
Hmm, think I had a smidgen of a lie in, but can't really remember. The days all run into one another y'know.
I checked over a job application and e–mailed it off into cyberspace. Then there was lots of drinking of tea and mooching. I didn't go for drinks with the B girls on R day – partly because I wasn't sure they were going out and hadn't geared up for it, and partly because I was only just getting back to normality after Monday night.
Monday night I went to the first Popworld Promotes gig with a friend from work. It was held at the Hard Rock Café on Old Park Lane, hence the playing of guitars etc, which are in the vault under the shop next door.
Aside from the surreal nature of drinking in the company of people like Alex Zane, and the general strangeness of the night, it was the whole 6 degrees of separation thing. Other new Popworld presenter Alexa, used to model for Sugar, and recognised me from the Popworld pilot that had me in it! She'd interviewed me and lots of other audience members at a Boy Least Likely To gig, and the pilot has me talking about the puppets in the video and then they cut to the video.
How bizzare. She's friends with the fashion girls from work, and her boyfriend is a photographer Sugar use a lot…and it turns out that he's also friends with a freelancer friend of mine…as I said, small world!
There was dancing til late with all of them, some other Popworld people, and the lovely PR girls from rarecommunications. So I suppose drowning my sorrows on day 29 was a good plan.
Anyway, back to day 30+1. I'm pretty sure I was just job hunting and job applying all day. As well as organising how to pick up all my desk stuff in the eve, I also sorted myself out to work unpaid one day a week – behind enemy lines!!
In the evening I made dinner for the family friends that live down the road, and then popped to Greenwich where a friend kindly gave me a lift into town. Handing back the borrowed laptop and putting all my stuff in the boot really cemented it all.
I've spent so many hours in that place that it seems weird not to be able to get in to the building anymore. A sense of panic started to set in as well. Despite the 30 day break, if I ever got bored I just went into work to do job stuff there. Now what the hell am I going to do?!?! Well…
April 25, 2006
Well, it's NEARLY day 30+1, but I am unemployed. Officially! Yup, I have been made redundant. That sounds like a funny phrase – how someone might write I'm impotent. I think it's just the word redundant that's doing it.
But it's ok, because I played Pete Townshend's guitar last night. And Jimi Hendrix's (OK, I mostly stroked that one, being as I'm not left handed). I also wore Elvis' jacket…in fact I might have been wearing it when playing guitar.
Anyway, either way, last night confirmed the surreal nature of the London media world.
More later, but now, to watch The Apprentice in bed. Or rather: The Apprentice, in bed.
Oh, and anyone want to give me a job? I'm easy. But not easy if you see what I mean…