Altered Images...

...of reality.

For this, my 39th year - which I somehow find scarier than my 40th.

I may feel differently about that in 364 days.

For now, here is a tune dedicated especially to me

It occurs to me that I...

...earlier described myself as:

"I know very few people in real life who like any of the oddball things that I do. My heart and soul are totally living in decades different than this one, so I am fairly useless when it comes to things most people seem to like to discuss in today's world."

Yes, that does sound about right.

Pacing in...

...front of Claire's, waiting for the bus, I am reminded of how far my life has come in the last 14 years.

This time in 1997 (just a few days before Diana Spencer died), I'd not long left my job of nearly 4 years at Claire's in small-town Southern California.

Today, I am one month away from being granted permission to spend the rest of my life in the UK.

But how did that happen...?

The things I've done, jobs I've held, places I've lived and people who have come and gone that have led me to this day... I suppose I should be grateful for each and every one of those moments in time. Those moments which brought me to this one right here and now.

It's difficult to remember this sometimes, no?

To be continued...

I hate to be a killjoy, but...

...I hope the jokes about the Life in the UK test (it is not called the UK Citizenship test) are over for now.

It is easy enough making light of it, but for thousands of people, the test represents a life-changing culmination of years of uncertainty.

Its merits are easily dismissed...it is a means to an end...a necessary evil...a bit of a joke of facts and figures to memorise.

But, for some, taking the test means that their life could soon be their own again, free of restriction.

Some struggle to remember what life free-of-restriction was like.

Most days bring a reminder of being miserable and stifled in work for which they've lost all passion, yet are unable to do anything about it; feeling reluctant to form relationships or put down real roots - because they've no idea if they'll soon be chucked out of the land which, in their heart, is their home...making the last several years feel a waste or failure.

So - if you must - laugh about making tea and knowing the difference between Ant and Dec.

Giggle that you've got only 8 of the 24 mock test questions right and joke that you should be deported.

Snigger that the government think it important that people who've sacrificed much should take more of an interest than you in your country's facts and figures.

But also please consider, just for a moment, that you are unwittingly laughing in the face of what is a vital part in someone's future and long journey to be not only British at heart, but also on paper.

Someone out there who thought they'd never in their life pledge allegiance to a Queen, but is counting the minutes until they get to do so.

That person may be your friend's partner, your work colleague, a writer from your favourite magazine or the barman who pulls your pint. Or me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This is not meant to sound curmudgeonly or overly-dramatic about what people consider 'just a bit of fun' - perhaps simply philosophical. This is what happens when you get old(er) and realise that in a couple of months' time, you may finally have something for which you sometimes feel you've waited your whole life.

Oh! Darling...

...please believe me...

To go along with my image of the week (below), I forgot to include my song of the week: 'Luke Tuchscherer's 'My Darling England'.

About the song, this week Luke commented: 'This is an original song of mine. I wrote it when I was 21, so it's scary that it's seven years old now. I understand it better now than I did then.'

When September 11th...

...(as it is known, rather than 11/9) happened, the first thing I did on getting home (I was in Australia at the time) was book a long flight. While the rest of the world mourned, I felt nothing other than the need to get out and experience life.

The morning after 7/7 (the date is the same in any variance of English), I got on a bus and got on with things. Maybe because I knew that had I not been running late the morning before as I made my way to Arsenal tube station, I could have easily been on the train that was bombed between Russell Square and King's Cross.

Or maybe it was because I was a Londoner.

Today - after watching the country being torn apart for the last few days - I sit home and lament.

I am getting too old for the destruction of the world and mankind.

There are things that I want to be out doing today, but I'm not doing them.

I know that good comes from bad...

Indeed, all one has to do is look to my first sentence above: without said long flight (to the UK), I would have not found myself living in this country 9 years, 7 months and 18 days later.

Yes, this country which has broken my heart a little bit more time and time again.

Especially this week.

But it is home.

...but while I would like to be able to focus on

All I see is

This display of both love and hate has gradually become my image of the week.

I did not realise how despondent I was feeling until putting it into 140 characters last evening (about football today): "It's strange how unimportant it feels after the last few days. I am feeling somewhat scarred.".

After that, I was in and out of tears for some time, as I thought of all the horrible things the world does to us.

And after a very restless night's sleep that resulted in being hardly able to drag myself out of bed until nearly 11am, my first 'public' thought this morning was: "I am sad that the last week of sadness has drained me of enthusiasm for this day I've been waiting for. No joy, no motivation, no football."

I got out of bed today, and will get myself out this funk. Maybe in an hour, maybe in two days.

Until then, my sofa is my haven.

Spending the afternoon watching...

... films where people end up finding love at unexpected times and places is probably not the best use of time for one already feeling low about the crumbling world.

new beginnings...

... maybe

today's driving . . .

. . . test makes me feel like this

momentous (or is that monumental?) changes . . .

. . . i seem to be experiencing alot of these at the moment, over which i've had no control

it's well past time for me to make some of my own - which should probably include leaving dear old myspace behind too

that's it, really . . .

Currently reading:
George’s Marvelous Medicine By Roald Dahl





Current mood:
sad

viva arsenal . . . er, i mean france

I interviewed really poorly for a job today. Shame. Just...bad. I wasn't in the mood and it directly followed the realisation that I had f***ed up big time a large mailing we spent heaps of ££ on; I co-ordinated it, prepared the list, etc and as 'invalid address' packs started to pour in, realised that my Excel sort clearly had somehow gone a bit funny at the proverbial eleventh hour and the first line of nearly everyone's address went pear-shaped and 5,000 packages went out to incorrect postal addresses around the world. With first class postage. And an external mailing house (paid) to carry out all the work. Sigh.

So I must make a new list, and by hand solely open each package, make a new label, re-stuff new envelope and post again. Did I mention there were 5,000?

I used to have the bloody word Director in my job title, for God's sake - surely I shouldn't be expected to mail merge properly and should have people to do this.

Funny, I never (rarely) used to make mistakes in any job that I have done, but in my current one, I seem to make them fairly often. New kind of pressure? Red tape? Geordie boss? One couldn't begin to guess...

you don't get into a car for ages . . .

. . . then five come along at once

more on that later (not that it's exciting - well, maybe (this) one...)

it can be a bit frustrating, this blog, because one never knows which walls have ears, so i find myself continually holding back certain events, thoughts and photos that i would otherwise quite like to share

but even if i am anonymous with names, faces, places, dates - as well as hide my blog from searches - what if someone happens upon it randomly and works out who i'm talking about, where we were and when? or does it really even matter, really?

it may seem unlikely this could even happen, but i remember when around 3 years ago, i was going through some cvs for a job for which i was helping to recruit. there were loads of them, so it became a quest for the ones most visually pleasing to go into the 'read' pile. i suddenly spotted one with a format i really liked...then quickly worked out the reason i liked it...it was mine! or...was it?

in fact, it was a nearly-precise carbon copy of my cv (in font/format/verbiage/etc), submitted by a former colleague to whom i'd sent my cv the previous year when looking for work and asked him to keep an ear to the ground. the cheeky bugger! i was tempted to drop him an email but was afraid he would be thoroughly mortified - don't we all nick ideas from other people's designs/content - ? - yet never expect said other people to see it?

but i digress, as this is but only a tenuous similarity

my point was that i have done quite a lot of interesting things over the past couple of weeks and am currently composing (mentally) how best to blog about them without getting myself into trouble with a wandering eye

more tbd

Hunting for a . . .

. . .flatmate is truly a sick cross between recruiting for a job and finding a date. It has become a second job, and I quite honestly think moving-out-housemate should pay me for all the work...

One guy has provided 21 bullet-points of his 'Flatshare Specific Attributes', even including his list of top ten films - no surprise that I like all the details, and he's coming round this evening. Forget the flat, perhaps I'll get him to take me out...

So far there has been only one nutter, but I've been looking for over 4 weeks now and it's really not much fun.

Think my standards might be a bit too high? No wonder I can't find a nice young man to take me away from it all...what's so wrong with settling, anyway?

signs, symbols and semiotics . . .

. . . as if my current mood and outlook was not bleak enough, a quick look at the 10day local weather forecast solidifed any hope of pulling out of the grey funk (just like mother nature)

happy summer, london - bah humbug