What If I Do? What If I Don't?

I am waiting for a phone call. A phone call to tell me whether I have a job. I had an interview on Friday for an administrative post in Human Resources at a hospital. I worked there for a while as a temp and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I am not used to enjoying my job or liking the people I work with! I have always said I do not want to work in Human Resources.

I don't. 

But I am taking this opportunity to apply for a job I don't hate while I work towards the work I DO want. I cannot see myself achieving anything while in a stressful situation. I need to feel happy in myself or I will not get anywhere with my studies, which is why I walked out of my last job eight months ago. 

I think the reason I feel terrified of being offered a permanent position is that the last permanent position almost ruined my life. And I have been out of work for so long I don't know how to do this. 

Obviously, the reason I am terrified of not being offered the post is... what do I do then? I have had enough of relying on my parents. The idea of asking my parents for money makes me feel ashamed of myself. I want to make them proud. How can I do this if they are having to support me? They tell me it's ok but it's not. It's really not. Regardless of how they feel it is ripping me apart. 

Out of My Hands

I just submitted my final assignment for my foundation year at The Open University.  Did I do my best?  I don't know.  I am happy with what I wrote but I am sure there could have been improvements.  If I left it any longer I would have ripped the whole thing to shreds, so I took the leap and pressed the button.

I am one step closer to my BA in English Language & Literature.  I scored 5 B's and 2 C's but the final result won't be ready until at least July.  So I wait...

This year has been a tough one.  Learning how to learn again; how to study; how to focus myself; and how to do all that on my own.  Distance learning is a challenge.  Having to motivate myself with no one around me to share any of the struggle.  Yes, there are the online forums but they can only be supportive to a point.  I have to admit I am a bit useless.  I leave everything to the last minute then cram.  This last assignment was submitted three hours before deadline!  It is the way I do things, in study and in life.

I long to attend a university full-time.  To be immersed in that life, but for now, it is just me at my desk in my living room, surrounded by books and photographs of people who inspire me.  Most significantly my college literature teacher, Jon who has been an immeasurable motivator, whether he is in the room or in my mind.  His mantra "Language, form and structure!" echoes around my head in everything I write.  I wish he was standing here now.

I feel a bit lost.  With no studying until October, what do I do with my time?!  I might finally get some reading done.  Since starting my course in October I have not managed to read anything but a textbook or assigned reading material.  Looking at my bookshelf there is a lot of catching up to do!  Where do I start?

Ghosts

I stayed at my grandparents the other night for the first time in over fifteen years. It was an intense experience because there are so many memories in the house and, I am sad to say, the bad memories overshadow the good. 

I lived there for a while when my parents were getting divorced, with my mum and brother. I remember nights sitting on the landing listening to upset voices from downstairs. 

I have spoken before about the big parties my grandparents used to host. Christmas, New Year, Hallowe'en. Now I am older I realise I was completely oblivious to the family politics - the unspoken hostility between certain people. How innocent I was. 

At this time my brother and I were the only children and we were content with this. It wasn't until I was ten years old that my family started to grow. And with it, the hostility. 

The family really fell apart thanks to one particular member of the family and the parties ceased. No more Christmas, New Year, Hallowe'en. No more communication.  

My grandmother was diagnosed with dementia. The bad memories really began. 

Back to the other night. The most intense flashback of my life happened when my grandmother asked what happened to the door frame in her bedroom. Thankfully she does not remember her psychotic breaks. The screaming. The struggles . The breaking-down of doors. The police cars and ambulances. The anger and the fear. 

After many of these incidents she was put into a psychiatric hospital. My visits always ended with tears. I would cry so hard I couldn't breathe. That was before I learned to accept myself as a stranger in her eyes. This acceptance makes it easier for both of us. 

Lyrics

"I quote others only to better express myself" - Montaigne

I have a playlist on my iPod of songs that express things I have been thinking. I hear lyrics and think "yes, that is relevant to me today!" (and none of them are love-songs, but we won't go into that)

I sometimes play a game with a friend in which we pick a 'song for the day'. Either a song about how we feel, or how we would like to feel that day. It is an interesting exercise in introspection and it is also comforting to know that others are thinking and feeling the same (obviously, or they would not have written songs about it)!

I need to play that game regularly. It helps me to focus. Today's song I think is "Every Day is Exactly the Same" by Nine Inch Nails. That says it all really. I seem to be swinging between over-enthusiasm and lethargy at present. I am angry at myself for wasting time.

Mondays and Tuesdays are my free evenings. What do I do with them? I have no idea! I get home from work at 6pm... suddenly it's 11pm! What do I do in those five hours?! Am I really lacking that much focus that I can lose five hours in a blink? It terrifies me.

"And we'll collect the moments one by one. I guess that's how the future's done" - Mushaboom

A Beautiful Lie

I spent most of this weekend with my grandparents.  Unfortunately I can only spend time with one or other as they cannot be in the same room without an argument and, as my grandmother has dementia it is always the same few arguments, over and over and over.

This weekend was different.  Mum and I had Sunday lunch with my grandfather in the dining room which has not been used in years.  All the Christmases, New Year’s celebrations, Halloween parties and birthday barbeques were whipped up with the dust from the table cloth.  Memories of a sneaky childhood glass of champagne on New Year’s eve, wiped away like a smudge with a napkin.

My grandfather’s hands, once the strong hands of a Navy Captain, shook with ever-worsening Parkinsons.  Should I offer to help? Or will that hurt his pride?  Mum and I pretended not to notice the spilled gravy or the stray carrot falling to the floor.  There was not much conversation, just the three of us seated at one end of the long table.  I think we were all remembering times gone by.  Wonderful, painful memories.

My grandmother spent this time in bed, wrapped in her favourite dressing gown, insisting that no one would want to spend time with a stupid old woman.

When dinner was over, my brother and his two daughters, eight and two years old, joined us.  I spent time sitting on my grandmother’s bed, pleading, bargaining, bribing her to come downstairs to meet them, as she insisted she had never seen them before.  My brother had not seen her in months, and was taken aback when she finally agreed to come downstairs when he saw how frail she was.  And she looked at him with a sense of recognition that she does not have for me.  This made me feel a little hurt, but reassured that there is still some of her old self inside.

My nieces spent the afternoon in the garden, laughing - a garden that has not seen laughter in over ten years. I remember the times my brother and I spent being super-heroes and villains... many, many years ago.

I feel I spent the weekend pretending things were as they used to be when we were children. My grandmother acknowledged me as 'Susannah's (my mother's) daughter, when she usually treats me as a stranger.

I know this experience will be brief and that the next time I see her she probably will not remember me, but it is those brief moments that mean the world.

All Aboard!

I have been thinking about applying for an admin job on a cruise ship. I saw an ad on a job site and thought it could be interesting. Yes it would still be admin, but the scenery wouldn't always be the same! I have been weighing up the pros and cons and to be honest, there are very few cons. I would be earning more money than I am now, I could still keep my flat, being at sea I would have less opportunity to spend money...

But I would be stepping far, far out of my comfort zone. I would be leaving town, leaving the country, for long periods of time. I am excited but terrified. But I think it's something I need to try. Also, if I am to start my Open University course it will give me more time to study without the usual distractions of home life.

I am talking myself into it. I should be talking myself into it.

My mother moved to Kenya 6 years ago. Sold her house and left. I try to imagine the emotions she must have felt... This way I won't be leaving the country, I will just get to travel. Could I handle months at sea?

There is one way to find out... take the plunge! (not literally!)

Pens and Lines

My necessary tools for writing have always been a blank notebook and a pencil. This has always been the way. In the past I have been given notebooks for birthday or Christmas - beautiful notebooks, but I have put them away on a shelf because the pages are lined.

A couple of days ago I found myself writing fervently... with a Bic biro in a lined, spiral-bound notebook taken from work.

Why is this so odd?

I have always shut out the possibility of using anything but blank paper and an HP pencil because I thought anything else would quell my creativity. I built up this wall hoping to protect what I thought was my creative mind. Breaking through seems to have released something. Apparently not poetry, but certainly prose.

It seems my friend was right. I am now looking at the world from a different creative direction. Having this blog in mind I try to make everything interesting so I can write about it. Okay, sometimes I fail on the 'interesting' scale, but for me this feels creative. And this makes me feel good.

I even attempted opening a blank MS Word document to see if this encouraged anything more than a blog entry. Not yet, but perhaps I will keep trying. I can't limit myself and still expect great things to happen. I need to be open to anything, as long as it allows me to express myself.

Perhaps I shouldn't limit myself to the label of 'poet'? After all, poets write poetry... what I am is a creative mind. I just need to find my direction.

Search Filters

Today I am wrapped in a blanket in my 'library' (the room dominated by my bookshelf), applying for as many jobs as possible. When I job-search online I always put 'filters' on - find me positions in these specific areas. I haven't done that today. Why limit myself? Yes, I have had to trawl through hundreds of jobs, but I don't want to miss out because something slips through the filters.

Had I discounted clinical roles my search would have been a lot quicker. I do not understand who would want to work in medicine. I have the greatest respect for these people but I cannot (do not want to) imagine it myself. I have enough trouble talking to someone on the phone. If they came in crying and covered in blood I think I would run screaming in the opposite direction!

Far too much pressure for me.

Give me books or paper and I am in heaven. Unfortunately the jobs I have found in libraries are either qualified positions or do not pay enough, although part of me is tempted to sell everything and live in a box so I can afford to earn pittance, just for the sheer pleasure of working in the environment I was born for.

I am currently awaiting a phone call from the Open University to discuss funding for my Humanities Course starting in October. I am fizzing with excitement at the prospect of learning! I enjoy reading non-fiction but to study with a purpose will give me the focus I am lacking. I do wish I could afford to go to university full-time - to be immersed in education, but circumstances prevent this.

Oh well, on with the search!

Soundtrack

I narrate my life with music. I can't write music, or sing, but I find inspiration for life through the music of others. I have a playlist on my ipod simply called 'Life'.

I like to find a song that describes my day or the way I want my day to be. I listen to Iron Maiden when I'm angry, Coldplay when I'm thinking too much, Latin music when I want to smile and a bit of Tim Minchin if I want to laugh.

I lost my ipod.

Silence.

All I can hear now is the rattling of the bus and a girl arguing with her boyfriend. How do people do it? How do they spend their lives walking around without music? A piece of music can instantly turn a day around.

As Pratchett says: "nothing is louder than the end of a song that's always been there"

When I feel brave I switch iPod to 'shuffle' and it is astounding the sheer variety of music I own - from metal to country, from classical to hip hop, and everything in between.

I have lost the soundtrack to my life. My mind is now too free to roam. I have nothing to shut out the thinking, or the colourful language of the chavs on public transport. I feel utterly lost, yet curious. Could this somehow give me new insight into life? With nothing to shut out the world will I now take more notice? We shall see.

My song for the day? Overkill by Colin Hay - one of my favourite 'life' songs.

Which song best describes your day?

26

The thought occurred to me at my salsa class this evening that, for years I have been the youngest at the salsa club, and now there are girls the best part of a decade younger than me, they are not as shy as I am and they can move in ways I cannot. I am jealous and I do not like it.

I have occasional moments when I realise I am not 18 any more. I am 26. When will this sink in? Over a quarter of a century. I need to sort myself out. The old line "I'm not getting any younger" is starting to play a lot on my mind. Some of my friends are married and contemplating children. That blows my mind.

I am stuck in a stop-gap, desperately searching for a direction. A direction away from a desk would be preferable. Every problem I have stems from that desk and sometimes I just want to slap myself for returning to it day after soul-destroying day. One day, hopefully not far down the line, I will have a job I love. There must be one out there somewhere...

At the end of March I can apply for financial funding for an Open University Course in Humanities starting in September. I am incredibly excited. To have something to occupy and expand my mind will be fantastic, and to have a degree would be a dream come true.