Transplantation: in which I have been moved

This is a simple post.  It has only one purpose and that is, namely, to inform the unfortunate souls who have stumbled upon this blog of a single fact.  No, wait, that's not quite right.  If you had by some great misfortune stumbled upon this blog you probably wouldn't be reading this post.  Most people stumble into things by finding peculiar images, and I admit that they abound on this blog.  Or perhaps by finding unusually mad titles associated with some term they've just searched...

Sunset through the fruit tree

No.  If you're reading this post, it would seem likely that you are in fact a reader of more than one post.  And the only reason for that must be madness.  Why else would you be reading this?  Well, I suppose you could be here out of curiosity.  This blog is sort of an online zoo for madness.  All manner and types of madness are present here, expressed in my thoughts and the absurd things that always seem to happen to me...

But I digress.  Whatever the reason you are here, and I'm sorry you must have put up with so much already, I must inform you that I have in fact moved.

I am now situated amongst the rolling hills of southern California.  I no longer have the good fortune to live on the rainy and perpetually cold island known as Great Britain.  I do enjoy the sunshine here in southern California.

Hey, where did all the rain go?

But I miss the history and vibrancy of life in London and I really don't enjoy the constant fear of wild fires.  But my transition to life here is for another day.  I merely wanted to inform you, my poor unfortunate reader, that I am now living here rather than there.

Now that I have done so, you must excuse me.  I have things to unpack, mad tea parties to host, and chaos to involve myself in. 

Unemployment brings out my hermit side

Being under-employed makes me even more antisocial than normal.  I know, that's hard to imagine considering I'm not the touchy feely type and I've already admitted to being a misanthrope.  But really, I'm not Oscar the Grouch, I promise.

It's just that sometimes I just really don't want to talk to people.  Especially when I just don't feel like having any conversation that remotely deals with my life.  It's impossible to have meaningless conversations that don't even tangentially come into contact with some facts about your life.  For instance, any conversation with someone you have just met or hardly know inevitably ends up here:

"So... what do YOU do?"

Stop me if I'm wrong... Do your conversations with new people always end up here eventually or not?  Yep, that's what I thought.  So, this is how mine typically end...

"Oh you mean me?" I ask hoping desperately the answer is no.  Stalling for time with this last desperate question.

"Yes, I feel like I've been talking too much about me.  So, what do you do?" persistently and annoyingly curious person.

Damn.  Did it occur to you that perhaps I would prefer to talk about anything other than myself?  No, of course it didn't.  And now you've asked me the worst question possible.  The one that leads to all the others.  If only it was polite to stomp off every so often without a word.  Sigh...

"Well, at the moment I'm volunteering at a museum and looking for work." I finish quickly drinking something so I don't have to see that look in their eyes.

The worst part of being unemployed isn't the financial trouble, though that is worrying, or the job hunting stress, though that can be exhausting, or the self doubt you wake up to every morning, though that is depressing.  No.  The worst part of being unemployed is talking to everyone else about it.

Don't get me wrong, I do not enjoy being penniless and living like a pauper in one of the world's most expensive cities.  Thank you London.  But the worst thing about it is you have to admit to people that you are either under-employed or unemployed and now all your private doubts and worries are suddenly the subject of public debate.  Oh, what are you looking for?  Are you qualified for those positions?  How long have you been unemployed?  etc.

All your flaws are suddenly layed out for everyone to see and talk about and laugh at.  Aired like so much dirty laundry.  For some reason everyone believes they have a right to delve into your personal life here.  If you had a job the conversation would go, "I do this, I love it," they would get bored and then move onto another less personal topic.  But if you don't have one you must have failed somewhere and they believe they are allowed to poke around in this fascinating subject that is your life til they find out why.  Stomping around on your feelings and raising up your doubts in the process.  

The only reason to be unemployed, of course, is that you failed.  Not that the economy is terrible or that you made choices better for your health that possibly made your career path more difficult.  Nope, there is not other explanation.  If you do not have a job currently you must be at fault somehow.  You failed at your previous job or you are somehow responsible for failing in the job search process.  You aren't applying to enough jobs, or the right ones, or you aren't writing the cover letter in the right way.

Being unemployed AND being forced to talk about it,
leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable.

Never mind that you already wake up doubting yourself and your abilities during this time.  Never mind that many vacancies are filled internally and you didn't have a chance to start with.  Never mind that it's physically impossible to send out more job apps on some days (because you woke up and applied all day til you went to sleep).  Clearly, it is somehow, in some way... all... your... fault.  And worst of all they feel like they need to tell you so.  These irritating people feel the need to point out all the places you could possibly have failed.  Just in case you didn't know all the ways you might be failing.

Please pick me.  Please?  I am trying really.

Let me be clear.  Friends offering suggestions is not the same thing.  You can suggest different jobs to apply to or maybe even help edit a cover letter without being this sort of obnoxious intruder.  These are the sorts of questions and judgements you have to endure from people you have never met before or barely know.  Their judgements are least welcome and interestingly enough the most forthcoming.

Maybe I should start answering this question with increasing doses of sass.  Oh me?  Yes, I do lots of things.  I do laundry, I read, I paint (but only in the afternoon when the light is right), I travel, I talk to friends across the world.  Sometimes I skype with my parents or spend time volunteering at the museum.

Maybe I should leave it at that and let them imply that I'm unemployed.  Maybe I should make them ask me what I do.

"Haha, laundry.  NO, I meant what is your job?"

"Oh, so you want to know about my personal finances?  Well I do declare, the impertinance of some people..." and I will storm out with high heels and my perfectly polished pearls reassuring me that I am a lady of.... wait, I don't own pearls.  Ok, maybe I shouldn't opt for this one.

Maybe I should go a step further with the cheeky reply and invent my own job.

To do that I need to set straight some definitions.  I think it is reasonable to define profession thusly.

Profession: the use of skills and abilities particular to the individual in the pursuit of financial stability

And if we define profession in this way then I can confidently say that I am a professional applier.  I apply and apply and apply to jobs of every description, salary and location in the pursuit of financial stability.  Now, I am not successful at achieving stability in this profession, but success is not part of my definition.  It is all about the doing.  And so am I.

Maybe my new strategy for this question should be more cunning.  Perhaps when I have been trapped in this corner of the conversational ring and I am no longer able to dance my way out I will open with this little number.

"What do I do?  Do you want the grim, sarcastic or fictional answer to that question?"

People, I am assured by many studies (on choice and on the anchoring effect which suggest people pick the middle option), when presented with three choices, two similar options, one of which is slightly more appealing, will typically choose that and ignore the third unrelated option.  So, if I give them a choice of truth that is grim, truth that is sarcastic, or fiction, I am guessing they will opt for sarcastic, as the more appealing of similar choices and the middle option.  And I'll pull out my "my life is fabulous I'm a professional applier" routine, which I will no doubt have perfected in no time.

Then again, they could surprise us all and persist in being nosy and annoying and demand the sordid details of my floundering career.  If this is true, I shall not hold back and maybe, just maybe I'll make them sorry for asking.  Next time take a hint, if I do not want to speak about myself just continue talking about you.

People and their questions.  Pah.  Mutter mumble mutter mutter.

Maybe I should just avoid talking to people for awhile.  At least until I'm less grouchy, or maybe until I've sorted out some things in my life, for example, finally found a job.  Then again, I'm in a bad mood and I'm thinking that my old plan of becoming a hermit permanently is sounding like a better and better idea.  People.  I don't really like people.

So, please excuse me while I go be antisocial and grouchy for awhile.  Don't worry, it's probably just the weather and I'll be cheery again tomorrow.  I hope...  Disastrous rainy country!  Grey and miserable...

Mutter mutter mutter....

Calm me down...

Things I hate

Do you ever have days where you simply get tired of being told what to do?  Where a part of you simply snaps?  Where you feel like enduring this treatment for even one more second will cause your blood to literally boil your heart to pound out of your chest and your teeth to grind each other into dust because you've been clenching them that hard? 

Have you ever felt that way?  Have you ever had to pretend you didn't want to leap from your chair and shove your notebook down someones throat screaming with rage and instead put on a smile? 

Today I had to sit through a meeting pretending I wasn't angry while I was first told all the things I could and couldn't do and then personally attacked for having a different personality and a different way of working.  Never mind that my way works for me and my work gets done and my executives and clients are happy with it.  My way doesn't align with the almighty freaking procedure by which everyone must live and die.

I had to clench my teeth not to say anything upsetting.  Oh, so you think I'll learn to like this thing antithetical to my personality and that I'll magically start thinking the way you do and that your precious organizational system will make sense to me?  Don't touch my systems.  Don't tell me how I must work.  You don't think I've tried overcoming some of my personality quirks?  I'm twenty five and I know what I can and cannot cope with to be productive.  If I wanted to spend my day doing the things you are proposing I would have signed up for a different job.  I was hired to be creative, to think differently and to come up with ideas and content they couldn't imagine.  Don't sit there and tell me what I'm capable of or what I will like.  You have no idea who I am.  When my work starts having problems then you can talk to me.  Until then go fix things that are actually broken and leave me and my working system alone.

Things I love

So now to combat all those negative thoughts I need to think of reasons to be thankful.  Number one, family.  I have an incredible family.  They love me and support me and are there for me always.
2.  I have amazing friends.  Granted they are spread all around the world, but nonetheless.  Come to think of it I am very blessed to have people I love that also love me.

My friends do silly things like take pub quizzes and bet on how few we can get right.

3.  Food.  I can afford it and I am not starving.  I got some amazing donuts and milk reduced at M&S tonight.

Another great M&S reduced food.  Mmm!

4.  For that matter I should be thankful that my shift allows me to snap up all the reduced foods.  It is cheaper to shop at night this way.
5.  I am thankful that I have a job that pays my bills and therefore I am not homeless.
6.  I'm not homeless.  It's much too cold in this climate to be homeless.
7.  I'm alive.  And I can appreciate the joy and pain of life and all it's beauties.
8.  The world is actually full of beauty.
9.  The world is full of purple.

10.  I live in a city, that although I wouldn't call it historic, is really historic.

Random doorway in Leeds

11.  My city actually has some pretty views along the canal

Leeds Canal

Leeds Canal

12.  I have good health
13.  The world is full of music.
14.    I can sing any time I want.
15.  I have the chance to do a bit of traveling here and there.  Including to London to visit some of my amazing friends.

And yes, I sang the Portobello Road song from Bedknobs and Broomsticks while I walked along this street.

Street painter at Notting Hill festival in London

16.  I have time to paint and draw and read for fun
17.  Books.  I am utterly thankful for books.
18.  I am thankful for my kindergarten teachers who valiantly struggled with a stubborn five year old who was convinced she'd never learn how to read and somehow not only taught her how to read but also helped her find a joy in it.  (Though a joy of reading must mostly come from my father, an absolutely voracious reader.)
19.  I am thankful for rainy days reading under snuggly covers.
20.  I am thankful for the written word in general as it allows us to communicate beautiful sentiments, talk to family and friends, express our deepest emotions, and do so with an eloquence denied other forms of communication.
21.  I am thankful for my brain, even if it causes me a few sleepless nights here and there.
22.  I am thankful for flowers and green things generally
23.  I am thankful for umbrellas that keep me dry on my way to work and back
24.  I am thankful for rainboots that allow me to jump in puddles and stay dry.
25.  I am thankful for chocolate.

Really there are a lot of things to be thankful for.  I just need to think about those things and not get all annoyed by trivial things at work.

My carnivorous door.

I'm a bit fuzzy on the particulars... but I do believe it's tea time.

I don't know about you, but I have had one of those weeks that merits a large cup of tea, a good book, and a spell under the covers.  For a start it's been raining all week and rain always makes me want to curl up with a book.  As much as I love reading with the rain against my window and puddle jumping with giant rain boots on, I do not like going to work in the rain. This may sound silly, but they are not at all the same.

Don't get me wrong, puddle jumping and singing in the rain are fantastic pastimes.  They allow you to be five again and watch the way the puddles swish about around your boots.  There really is something magical about water.  The key here is that the getting wet part is deliberate.  You don't go puddle jumping if you don't want to get wet.  After a good puddle jumping, rain-drenching, singing-in-the-rain experience you go home and change into your warmest clothes and sip hot chocolate or tea with a big smile on your face. Or at least I do.

Walking in the rain, on the other hand, is not the same as a singing-in-the-rain type stroll.  If you are walking, and it happens to be raining, chances are you need to get somewhere and getting wet is not ideal.  Working for hours at a computer is not an experience augmented by soggy clothes.  It would have been a trifling matter if the week's troubles had ended there.  Such was not my luck.

By Tuesday I must have done something to anger all the gods.  It didn't take them long to enlist the fates to come to their aid.  And so it was on Tuesday morning that I awoke blissfully unaware of the things in store for me.  I wandered into the kitchen and found I was out of milk.  Small matter I thought, I will make toast.  Small matter?  More like warning.  A taste of how my day was to progress.

All too soon it was time for me to get ready for work.  I returned to the kitchen and got out food to bring along.  Then with my hands a bit too full I tried to leave the kitchen.  I say tried because of what follows.  I had to put down a glass to open the door.  So, I swung the door open and then shoved my foot in to hold it while I picked up the extra glass again.  Then I attempted my usual maneuver.  I pushed the door open wide with my foot while I scooted through the doorway hands full.  Usually this ends with me safely on the other side of the door and on my way to do whatever it was I was too busy doing to use my hands to open the door with in the first place.  Today was not my day.  The door slammed shut ever so much faster than usual.  I believe it was helped by the fates.  Suddenly I was standing halfway between the kitchen and hallway in ever so much pain.  The door bit me!  It bit me with it's pointy-ish hard unforgiving handle.  You don't think a door can bite a person?  I refer you to my name.  The door had slammed shut burying the handle into my hip with such force that I had to stand there awhile to recover.  It was the sort of pain that forces you to turn nearly statuesque for a bit, first in shock, then in realization and lastly in pain as you grimace through that first fierce and biting wave before it subsides into that dull ache you knew was coming.  That is to say, it REALLY hurt.  But I still had things to do.

The Culprit

I finished getting ready for work in a bit of a haze trying not to bend in particular ways.  You see, the door handle was at just the height where all my pants and belts hit.  Convenient.  I finally left my house and it was, of course, raining.  By the time I arrived at work I was dripping wet and probably looked as though I'd run behind the bus all the way to work.  I sat down and discovered that sitting really hurts with a bruise in just the right place on your hip.  Then I was handed my client for the day, a law firm specializing in personal injury claims.  Ha.  Funny.  Good one fates.     

Work was work, nothing dramatic or damaging happened there.  I was finally done with the trouble, or so I thought.  While I waited for my bus after work I had a growing sense of dread.  It turned out to be a bit justified as my bus never came.  I had to catch another one home after waiting in the really cold, very un-spring like rain for an hour and a half.  Though at this point I was just glad to be on a bus heading to town.  I do not know what I did to anger the gods so, but it must have been pretty terrible.

The rest of the week was largely uneventful.  Any lingering wrath was spent in sending down soaking rain that made sure I was thoroughly wet at work.  And of course there is my large, unpleasant, inconveniently placed bruise.  I don't think you will blame me if I declare that I am not leaving my bed for anything this weekend.  Now, if you'll excuse me I have a book that needs reading.