The end of the beginning.
I made these choc-hazelnut ‘turds’ yesterday to represent my day.
Yesterday morning, I lost my job.
Although you could say I left my job.
It was more of a mutual agreement, I guess.
An accumulation of stress, sleeplessness and – well – ‘stuff’ sent me into the mother of all breakdowns yesterday, while I was trying to arrange some strawberries on some diamonds. It had nothing to do with the strawberries. Or the diamonds. That just happened to be where I was when something inside me snapped and I knew it was probably all over before the tears began rolling down my cheeks.
It was about 4.30am when I sat outside the building trying to pull myself back together. Even the stray cats in the car park wandered closer to look at the crazy lady sobbing on the concrete.
I managed to clean myself up, get back inside and finish the morning – getting everything baked, glazed, decorated and in the crates ready for pick up on time.
Then the discussion once the morning rush was over and I don’t exactly remember how it went down, but there was an agreement that maybe I need to start my apprenticeship in y’know, somewhere that’s not a bakery. Somewhere a bit slower where you have the time to work up to being fast at what it was you were doing.
I did a lot of nodding.
And that was it. I cleaned up my bench space, left my key behind and it was over.
I bought a bacon and egg mcmuffin on the way home, and ate it in bed. It had the desired effect – a lump of congealed cheese, bacon and egg in my stomach and not wanting to ever leave the house again, I went back to sleep.
And that’s how I’ve spent my last couple of days. A combination of sleep, crappy food and hanging low.
I am so, so, so disappointed in myself. I enjoyed the work I was doing, and I learned so much… but I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.
This weekend we head off to Hobart for a pre-planned trip. I’m aiming to have stopped moping by then, so when I get back I can start looking for other opportunities.
I’ve still got TAFE starting in July, just one day a week, so even if I can’t find another apprenticeship position I’ll just have to get a job to work around that.
And then I’ve just gotta work on somehow closing my tear ducts so that when things get hard they don’t give anything away.
I didn’t want to write this post. I wasn’t even going to acknowledge that I didn’t have a job anymore. I figured if I nodded and smiled when people asked questions that we wouldn’t get into it. Ever.
I’ve never been the person to lose a job – even on mutual agreement. I’ve never been the person that’s been slow – that couldn’t learn quick enough. But I failed. And that’s okay. I hear people do that sometimes.
So I’ve just got to figure out how to get back up, dust myself off and find something that terrifies me again.
Weighing in where I don’t belong.
I watched with mild amusement at a number of conversations on twitter this afternoon re: bloggers vs. journalists. Mrs. Woog also wrote a post about it. Basically, some people were going ‘There were so many bloggers at fashion week and ZOMG they don’t even have media training wah wah wah’. And then some bloggers went ‘OMG YOU HAVE NO IDEA WE’RE SO POWERFUL AND AWESOME, OH AND YOU SUCK.’
Okay, not all the bloggers were like that, but some of the replies and ensuing discussion were a little bit cringe worthy. You’re being accused of not being professionals and then you reply… completely unprofessionally? Clap. Clap. Clap.
Both professions – and yes, I am calling blogging a profession – have their reputable writers that are headed for the ABC (lolz) and the shit writers that are heading for research roles on A Today Affair. Both parties get to use their own judgement on how to deal with stories they are writing. Magic, right?
Are they the same? No.
So why do we care if journalists don’t like bloggers? Or bloggers don’t like journalists? That’s like saying administrators don’t like personal assistants. Even though to everyone else they sound like the same thing, they’re not. And it doesn’t matter if one doesn’t like the other, because they’ll both carry along independently of each other no matter what the other is doing.
So here’s the thing: I don’t care. Shut up. Get on with your respective jobs. And do them well.
As a side note: I wonder if the journalists bitching about a lack of ‘media training’ among bloggers have seen the majority of the internet. They should be glad that some of us can spell and know where to put a capital letter.
Things to do at a laundromat.
1. Ignore the sign that says ‘do not leave your clothes unattended at any time’ and duck around the corner to pick up some stuff, wondering how you might explain to your husband that all the towels you own were stolen.
2. Feel relieved when the towels are still tumbling away when you get back.
3. Get annoyed there is still 20 minutes on the timer.
4. Take an instagram photo complaining about how stupid you are for not hanging them out when your husband told you to.
5. Check instagram for responses and other new photos. Nothing.
6. Check for new emails. Nothing.
7. Check twitter for conversations to join in on, but then realise you don’t really know what’s going on in twitterland any more. Nor do you know what day it is.
8. Check google reader. Nothing.
9. Check the ABC news app. Only depressing things about finding bodies and the Labor party. Sigh.
10. Start writing a blog post about how bored you are.
11. Wonder if anyone would still be reading at this point.
12. Check the timer again. 11 minutes to go.
13. Wonder if maybe the towels are dry and what would happen if I opened the door to check.
14. Decide to stay on the uncomfortable plastic chair and repeat steps 5 – 9.
15. Give up and stare at the towels until the time is up.
16. Make a note to self to spend the $3 extra to take it to the place where they do it for you next time.
17. Amend note to self to be ‘just hang them on the fucking line next time.’
18. Still 7 minutes left. Fuck.
Hello.
The worst time of morning is between 1.15am when my alarm goes off, and when I arrive at work, just under an hour later.
During that time the urge to go back to bed is huge. I hear Jarod snoring as I’m getting ready, and some mornings even Train can’t be bothered to get up and find out what I’m doing. Then I drive through deserted streets and turn up at work.
Once I’m in the building, I’m fine. Bright lights, a bustle of activity and a never ending list of things to do.
But that hour before? That’s damn hard.
—
It makes me sad that people are useless trolls. In this post Eden mentions being flamed because she went to the Easter show and bought show bags while kids are starving in Africa. They get one point for being topical (Eden recently returned from Africa after being sent over as an ambassador for World Vision), but seriously?
Someone with a stable internet connection and time on their hands (so, probably middle class and white) is sitting on their ass saying ‘Boo! Hiss! You bought a showbag for your kids! People are starving!’. And you’re doing what, exactly? Other than sitting on your ass making anonymous comments on the internet. Yeah. Go you. Making a world of difference right there. Fuck off.
—
Yesterday I signed up for TAFE, which means this whole ‘apprenticeship’ thing is really happening! I could insert a line about not believing it or something, but I do because it cost me $400 for the semester and that made my bank account sad. (Although I will get some money back when I give proof I’m an apprentice.)
—
I’ve learned so much in the week and a half I’ve been working in the bakery. So. Much. Stuff. And the biggest lesson? I’ve been so used to being the one that knows everything in my various jobs I’ve forgotten what it feels like to know nothing. And be a little bit useless. And hold people up because you’re so damn slow. Every day I’m sucking it up and getting on with it. Today I broke a salad spinner and sent watercress all over the floor. It’s good to know I still have the ability to be a fucking idiot.
—
I’m now off to make a cake. Because it’s Robot Day and on Robot Day you eat Robot cake. Why? Because I said so. If it wasn’t Robot Day, why would I be making a cake, hmm?
Meow.
I visited the Cat Protection Society this afternoon – not really a surprise. I spent about ten minutes watching Rex (available for adoption with Jess!) splash around in the shared water bowl.
At first I heard growling form the corner – walking over to split up a cat fight, I found Rex on his own ‘fighting’ the water as best he could.
A couple of splashes in, he would realise he was getting wet (eww!) and go a bit mental, usually end up hiding in the tent nearby.
This continued until he started to get more and more frantic (WHERE IS ALL THIS WATER COMING FROM OMG?!) and I went and got a towel to soak it up.
Such a sweet kitty, but he may be a few biscuits short of a packet.
#MICF: Day Four
Oh no! Our last night in Melbourne. We made it an early one because Jarod was getting rather exhausted by this stage.
Day Four
Fanfiction – something usually written about comedians – becomes something more as comedians write their own fanfiction (about… whatever) and read it on stage. Out loud. So you can hear it.
It can be a bit hit and miss – especially if you don’t usually watch the show they’ve written about. Highlight? David O’Doherty’s story on Grand Designs.
3 out of 5 wet cat noses
Dr. Toby Halligan is not a Dr.
I’ve never seen Toby before, but I was rather impressed. He is very confident on stage (never mind the sweating) and, well, funny. Top points right there. A total steal at $18 a ticket, too.
4 out of 5 wet cat noses
Very much a Danny Wallace/Dave Gorman style show, but… I was bored. His show wasn’t presented as well as it could have been – and if you’re short it’s hard to see the powerpoint presentation above everyone else’s heads. Also I don’t really fall into his target audience of the 40+.
2 out of 5 wet cat noses
–
So there you have it. Our comedy festival.
Things I’d wish we’d had time to see:
Bob Franklin & Steven Gates
Celia Pacquola
Claudia O’Doherty
DeAnne Smith
Frank Woodley
Kate McLennan
Mark Watson
Michael Chamberlin
The Pajama Men
The Shelf
Paul McDermott (is this a serious show??)
Sarah Kendall
Sarah Quinn
Shane Matheson
Steele Saunders (because his show is about cats)
Tegan Higginbotham
Tim Ferguson
Wanda Skyes
The comedy festival runs until 22nd April 2012, so get out there and see some damn comedy already!
#MICF: Day Three
Day three saw us taking a trip to St Kilda to meet up with a friend. Jarod overcame his fear of trams and ended up loving the shit out of them. Speedy? Tick! Timely? Tick! Novelty? Tick! We even paid for our trip, which I hear is unnecessary most days.
Day Three
That’s XXX for ‘thirty’ of course. A tale of growing up and realising that you’re still not a grown up. Something I’m sure I’ll be doing when I’m thirty.
If you know Josh Earl’s style, you won’t be disappointed. The songs, the jokes, the hair. But don’t sit in the front row unless you like audience participation.
4 out of 5 cat tails
Geraldine Hickey – Turns Out I Do Like Sundried Tomatoes
The first time I saw Geraldine Hickey she was supporting Justin Hamilton at the Dockside Comedy Bar in Brisbane. The kind of comedy bar that tailors to hens nights, expects patrons to wear thongs on their feet and makes me want to stab my eyes out. At least, it was at the time. I remember two things from that night: a) she sculled one man’s beer and turned another’s into a ‘beer fountain’ in her mouth, b) she then said something about cock that made my sister choke on her drink.
Hence when I read the title I didn’t realise that it was a hint at the content. This is essentially Geraldine’s ‘coming out’ show, and she does it in her own style.
I really loved the show – there are plenty of laughs and a section that will make you a liiiiittle bit teary. Be prepared.
4 out of 5 cat tails
Sam Simmons – About The Weather
I’m going to say it: I love Sam Simmons. And some of you are going to scream at me for that. I know that because some of you have told me in the past that you don’t get his comedy because he’s just a nut job. And that’s cool. But this show was amazing. I’m not sure, but I think this is the first time he’s run one narrative throughout a show and he does it spectacularly.
A man on a bus wants to chat up a girl on the bus, but he hates small talk. Problem. The show is played out thanks to the help of a narrator and some audience members.
Of course, it would be remiss of my not to mention that the set is covered in maneki neko – all waving their paws with odd synchronicity.
Sometimes it is hard to keep up and I wanted to see it again for the bits I missed, but we just didn’t have the time.
5 out of 5 cat tails
#MICF: Day Two
Although we travelled to Melbourne for the Easter long weekend, it didn’t occur to us that places might close. Places that offer essential items like, say, breakfast. We skipped the hotel’s breakfast place in order to find something cheaper, and managed to pay pretty much the same amount for less at the Pancake Parlour, thanks to their public holiday surcharge. Woooo.
Then we went back to the hotel and napped. Naps are great.
Day Two
Jennifer Wong – Ouch & Other Words
I saw this show in it’s first incarnation in Sydney last year and it’s lovely to see it’s evolution. She packed out her little ‘bus’ at the Forum. The worst part (for me) about seeing shows by good friends is that I forget it isn’t a two way conversation. Multiple times I had to restrain myself, and at one point I failed. Sorry, Jen. On the upside, she is a professional and completely ignored me.
You should go see the show now, so you can be all trendy and say ‘I knew her when…”
3 out of 5 cat paws.
Sammy J and Randy in The Inheritance
When we decided on this show because we thought it would just be a good, well rounded show. I was really blown away by the production – yep, I well and truly missed the Sammy J & Randy boat all those years ago. My favourite part was the puppeteer (making inanimate objects come to life takes amazing skill), and my least favourite part was the cunts sitting next to us who thought the funniest bit was when the puppeteer was holding a larger puppet. The not so quiet whispers went around their group: “Look! He’s doing him doggy style! Hahahahaha!” Pause. “Hey! Did you see he’s doing him doggy style?! LOL!” Pause. Drink some beer. Etc.
But all in all, seriously good.
5 out of 5 cat paws
Dave Callan – The Graveyard Shift
I think Dave Callan is great. I’ve seen his shows in the past and never been disappointed. And you can see where this is going, can’t you? Yeah. I was really disappointed with his show. It’s essentially a clip show – the best and craziest calls from his time doing the graveyard shift at JJJ. A combination of power point screens and mp3s played from his iPod. The technology transitions weren’t smooth and I think this show would have been better as a podcast.
2 out of 5 cat paws
#MICF: Day One.
Melbourne. I love you. I can’t get enough of your crazy trams, your hot jam donuts and your comedy festival. Especially your comedy festival. I’m even enjoying the tendinitis I came home with, because it reminds me of fun times. (Okay, not really).
Over the next few days I’ll be posting about the shows we saw I dragged Jarod to while we were in town. Did you know, at the same time we were there, the 2012 World Track Championships were also running? It’s a bike thing. If Jarod had realised, he would have had one hell of a get out of jail free card, right there. But, sticking with the positives, he promises me he did actually have a fun time.
While I did get all obsessive and plan our entire trip before we arrived, I managed to let go of this plan and we sorted out our shows day-to-day. Like normal people.
So here we go.
Day One
Hannah Gadsby – Hannah Wants A Wife
Known as ‘that chick that’s with Adam Hills on Gordon Street Tonight’ (I do not jest, I heard that description from someone clearly well informed in the audience), Hannah had an almost sell out crowd on the night we went.
She explores the role of wives and the function of marriage while throwing in facts picked up while studying for her degree in Art Curation.
Thoroughly enjoyable. (Unless you’re homophobic. Probably.)
4 out of 5 whiskers.
Justin Hamilton – The Goodbye Guy.
All stories end. Sure, I could insert some joke about John Farnham here, but seriously. This is Justin’s last festival show and it’s fair to say I’m a little bit heart broken. I’m going to say it here, and I’m probably not the first: I think this is his best show. His storytelling technique is on par with Daniel Kitson, but without the arrogant cuntishness (playful or otherwise).
If you happen to be in Melbourne, go see this show. But a warning: the ending almost made Jarod cry.
5 out of 5 whiskers.
Daniel Kitson – Where Once Was Wonder.
When Kitson comes to Australia, I make an effort to go see him. This is the first stand up show of his that I’ve seen in a couple of years, but he’s still got his charm and ability to insult the audience without getting punched by anyone at the end. A warning to those who are used to his beard and hair: it is missing. Insignificant, perhaps, but I did spend the first 10 seconds of the show debating with a friend whether the bald guy on stage was there for a sound check, or was indeed Kitson. Thankfully he started speaking and we realised our error.
His standard fare is covered: love, loneliness and meaning, but there’s no complaining. This man is as good as he believes himself to be.
5 out of 5 whiskers.
