Hitting my head against a wall

I'm frustrated. Fantastically, hugely, immensely frustrated.

I've been doing the job-searching dance for over a month now, and nothing's come of it. I've had a few interviews - the best one of which was when my interviewer told me that he'd hire me right then if he didn't have several other interviews later that week...and then I didn't get the position. It's starting to become horrible, and soul destroying, to keep up the energy required to constantly ring and email my recruiters to see if they have anything new, and I'm losing confidence in their ability to get me something.

I know that something will come along, and I'll get out of the place where I'm not appreciated or paid enough, it's just...frustrating. And disheartening. And when I'm sat staring at the screen at a job I'm becoming increasing hateful of, it's hard to summon the motivation to get out of bed in the mornings.

Poetry Friday

I've decided to try something over here in December-land. I've written poetry since I was young, and although much of it was the whinging of a fairly-angsty adolecent, some of it wasn't horrible. Poetry, good poetry, is beautiful. So, I'm going to start posting poetry - other people's to start, but maybe mine at some point too.

Hope is the thing with feathers
by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Marshmallows

Part of my noticing nature more around me, specifically in the changing of the seasons, is that I'm really, really excited when flowers start blooming. I think there's a part of my brain that shuts down in mid-October, and only kickstarts back to life when I start seeing the crocouses and daffodils popping up under trees and in parks. The only part of living in Wales that I genuinely, truly liked was when all the daffodils shot up in the spring. (It's the Welsh national flower. There were lots of daffodils.) I just get this feeling of so much more hope, and it's easier to get up in the morning. I feel like I'm taking deeper breaths and walking faster with my head up instead of down. It's a nice feeling.

ps. This made everyone in my office stare at me like I was a loon. Incidently, in Britain they pronounce it marsh-mal-low, instead of marsh-mel-low like my family does.

Life gets in the way

Things have been happening recently. Fairly momentous things, for me.

Over a year ago, I blogged something that I felt. Not necessarily strongly about, but I was trying to put more effort into my blogging, so after the event I sat down while it was still fresh in my mind and wrote down what I was thinking and feeling. The next day, I put it up on my blog after going over it to see if I wanted to change things. So I posted it. And then the firestorm began. That one post, about how I was feeling at the time, provoked more comments (not necessarily on the blog) than anything I'd ever written before - and not really in a good way.

This has made me very hesitant to post about actual events that I have any sort of emotional reaction to, whatsoever. I learned from that experience that you never know who's reading, and that putting things out there for the world to see can have unintended effects on the people around you. At the same time...

This is my space. My voice, no one else's, and part of me thinks that not saying what I'm thinking and feeling is worse than saying the wrong thing. So, I guess I'm trying to say that I'm going to start talking. I'm not trying to hurt anyone, or say that the way I'm seeing something is the way it actually is (because really, if I were in charge of reality it would be Very Different), but this is me. This is what I'm thinking. And I guess I'll just have to deal with that, too.

Scottish attack squirrel of death

Something to make Monday a little easier.

A second waking up

Wake to screech of alarm in my ear. Manage get out of bed before current flatmate's alarm goes off (5 minutes before I need to leave). Huge improvement on yesterday. Shower, eyes closed against the spray. Drop contacts while trying to put them in. Can't find my book, flatmate re-arranged sitting room. Bastard. Stumble into kitchen, notice that it's not raining. Feel happy about this until looking in fridge. Cold pizza has been replaced by beer. Beer is not allowed for breakfast on workdays. Crap. Remember to put phone, knitting, and newly-charged iPod into bag before leaving flat. Leave flat. Drop newly-charged iPod down flight of concrete stairs. iPod is fine. Shuffle to bus stop, yawning. Miss first bus, but actually get seat on second next to girl that thinks seat next to her is for her paper, not me. Turn up rock music, glance sideways to see if she noticed. No. Bus barely manages to climb Crouch Hill. Hits the top and...

the most amazing morning light that has ever existed on the face of the planet fills the top of the bus. It's shooting out from the horizon, from under a mostly cloudy sky, bright orange and yellow and bright and pink, reflecting off buildings. Downtown London and Canary Wharf shine out of the light, hazy and distinct all at the same time. Blink, and feel like I've just woken up.

Boozy booze booze

What I have had to drink this weekend:

One bottle red wine
Two glasses white wine
Four-fifths large bottle of Absolute Citron mixed with soda water
1 bottle Negra Modelo
2 bottles Grolsh
4 pints at The Ship
3 pints at The King's Head

I think that someone could lick my arm and come away drunk at this point. Certain persons are now offically 'A Bad Influence' on me.

The next station is!! Russell Square!!

Getting out of work yesterday after an almost entirely horrible day, I mentally prepared myself for the crazy that is the Tube during rush hour. Getting on at Holborn, my iPod was helpfully playing 'How Much Difference' by Pearl Jam. If you ever want to be so depressed by the time you get down the many escalators that you want to commit suicide on the tracks, listen to this song while being on the Tube after a crappy day.

I know it's because London is so large, and there are just so many people crammed into a tiny space (especially on public transport), but no one sees anyone else here. There's a particular etiquette in London that probably only exists in large cities. I can practially be kissing someone on the Tube, making Dirty Dancing look like a church picnic, and absolutely no eye contact will be made. An occasional mumbled 'Sorry' might spontaneously erupt from anyone in this situation (after all, they are British), but everyone just brushes it off. It's crazy.

The entire day was redeemed when, after cramming myself into the six inches of space free, I looked up at the scrolling sign that says what station is next. It was malfunctioning. It made me laugh, for some unknown reason. Yay, London.