The Little Hings

My mum always said 'be grateful for the little things'. Since graduating last year, this has been more than a little difficult to bear in mind, and super easy to lose sight of. I've been lucky enough to bag some pretty good jobs in my mere year of freelance work, and while it hasn't been exactly dependable, it's taught me a lot. I've worked with people who are good at what they do and known for being so. However I've been having a bit of a think about 'the future', and what it actually holds. I always knew I wanted to work in a creative environment. In the past I've tried my hand at art, film, media and social sciences. I started an English degree, but I didn't love it. I got tired of people asking me if I wanted to be a teacher. (I don't. I couldn't. I know what I was like at 13 and being faced with 30 of that would surely land me some time on the inside). I never really knew exactly what it was I wanted to do, but I always figured I would 'when I was a grown up'.

I've been stressing a lot about not having a definite career plan. When I was at uni (for the second time) there was little wiggle room in my course. I bagged a trainee job before I'd graduated and picked up work from there, but was never sure if it was really what I wanted to be doing. Last year I applied for a number of creative internships, which I was perfect for apart from being 'too old' as they were apparently only for 16-25 year olds. I had only turned 26 months before. Since when did age matter? Since when did life experience not count for anything? In today's economy, there are plenty of creative types and graduates sitting unable to work in the area they studied for. People are taking jobs just because the job's there, and in unstable times it makes good financial sense. But does that mean that they're past it because they don't fall into a certain category?

After scoring four interviews, I was unable to go for any of them as soon as they found out my date of birth. I petitioned the Minister for Youth Employment, who tried to fob me off with some facts and figures about the state of youth unemployment. They claimed the 16-25 bracket were the worst hit by unemployment figures. I did my research and yes, unemployment figures in this age group was higher. But so was the volume of training and apprenticeship schemes. Meanwhile, the figures for 25+ were only slightly higher, with no initiatives or help offered for this category. I sent some more emails arguing this case and was told that they were 'looking into it'. This year, when the internships were announced again, the age range was 16-30. I'm not saying I had anything to do with that but I like to think that enough people did that they were forced to make a change. It just goes to show that if people take action, action will be taken. You've got to fight for what you want, and not expect things to just be handed to you.

I've been to a fair few media training courses, but none of which seemed targeted at my current role (working in the sound department, just to clarify). It started to grate after a while. Even part time work was hard to come by. I started to wonder what the point had been in studying and getting a degree, when I was really just getting nowhere.

Eventually I started to pick up some interviews. I attended one, and they told us that out of over 2000 applicants, they had only chosen to interview 200. From that, only 40 would actually get hired. I didn't get the job, but it put things into perspective. I was one of only 10% of applicants that they actually brought in to interview. I don't even have that much retail experience, but I must have made some sort of impression. I started thinking about what else I could do. I was limiting myself by sitting thumbing it and waiting for work to come along. There was no reason why I couldn't go after jobs I wanted just because I wasn't 'qualified'. Other things count too: you could be the best person for a job on paper, but have all the personality of a wet sock. You could be super ambitious to land a top producer's job but become so focussed on it that you overlook other opportunities along the way.

Anything that comes along is an opportunity as long as you have the enthusiasm and willingness to do it. It doesn't matter if you don't have a clear cut career plan. It's good if you do, but in not doing so, there's a nice sense of freedom. It's easy to fall into a trap and think you're a failure because you're not on a accelerated path to The Dream Job. It's even easier to consider yourself a failure if you compare yourself to other people. For me, it was only when I took a step back and looked at the small stuff that I got some perspective. I have a family who were willing to let me move back in when I couldn't afford to keep my own flat on. It's not ideal, and it's difficult sometimes, but I have a roof over my head. I've got good experience, and more experienced professionals have told me so. I've only been out of uni for a year. Technically I'm still a recent graduate.

Yeah, I'm not doing my Dream Job right now. But right now, the Dream Job could be anything. I'm applying for jobs I'd never have considered before, even if they really interested me. I've got good friends and an awesome boyfriend. My hair's sitting quite well today. Whatever I end up doing, I'll have worked for. It's autumn, my favourite season, ad I', not going to waste the time I have now by sitting moaning. And perhaps the biggest realisation of all is that sometimes... sometimes... parents are right. As much as it pains me to say so.

Movin' With The Times

I have moved with the times (and finally figured out how this works) and claimed my blog on Bloglovin'. I don't really know how it works but if it saves my aimless ramblings from dwindling in blogscurity all the better.
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Shocktober; Or 'Predictable Horror Binge' Post

October is quite possibly my favourite month. It's a month where it's acceptable to pile on jumpers, wear anything decorated with bats or ghosts and include pumpkin in all manner of cooking. It's also an excuse to binge on horror: much like drinking before noon on Christmas, it's something you can do any time of the year but only during October is it truly acceptable. Lock yourself in a room (or in our case, a caravan on the coast of the Solway Firth), dim the lights and power through as many as humanly possible before the wee caunles flicker oot and every tiny creak becomes irrationally terrifying.

Also much like Christmas, there are a few classics I like to revisit every year: Hocus Pocus is the obvious and long standing favourite. It's full of black humour, set in Salem, features a talking cat and was quite possibly my first introduction to the word 'virgin'. I don't think I'll ever tire of this one. I missed it last year; unfortunately I thought I had it on DVD when I didn't, and I just never got round to buying it. As a result I enjoyed it doubly as much this year and am now wondering if a purple cape would be a suitable wardrobe investment.

 Yes kids, there was a brief period in the mid 1990s when Sarah Jessica Parker was actually pretty slammin'.

Another obvious choice is of course Halloween: not the crass Rob Zombie remake (eew) but the 1978 original. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it. There's nothing freakier than a dude in a mask standing perfectly still, and then disappear. I do have a slight phobia of masks, which makes it possibly more frightening for me than it actually is (I don't think The Strangers is an especially terrifying film but the night I watched the trailer I slept in my living room). HOWEVER, it's a genre classic; a simple story, well executed (harhar) without an over-abundance of blood, guts and exposition. Perfect. This film may be the reason I think I'm going to be murdered all the time, but that's just... that's just the sign of a good horror right...?

I AM SO NOT COOL WITH THIS.

I do try and mix it up around this time of year and use Halloween as an excuse to buy up new films purely because "it's a horror I've never seen, tis the season etc". I bought Berberian Sound Studio in a mammoth Amazon binge and have been saving it until now as I thought it'd be something special. I thought I'd love it due to it being set almost exclusively in a sound studio (the.... one in the title), based around the experiences of a sound engineer working on a horror film (one of many dream jobs) and is a modern entry into the 'giallo' cannon. So far, so good yes?

Hrmm. I really wanted to like it, and I think I did... but I think a lot of my enjoyment was down to the little insider nods. I too have hacked at vegetables to recreate the sound of stabbing. I too have wanted to commit bodily harm upon a producer. However, this isn't exactly an accessible film even for those familiar with the processes. It's hard to tell where it's going, and it crawls along at some points before plummeting into 'batshit crazy' territory. It's certainly spooky and atmospheric, and before long the close confines of the studio become quite stiflingly claustrophobic. Possibly a little curio that could benefit from repeat viewing.

I watched Don't Be Afraid of the Dark after seeing that it had been produced by Guillermo del Toro and foolishly thought this meant it was good. It wasn't. Opening sequence and nasty third-act leg break aside, it was one of the most frustrating wastes of a film I'd watched in a while. This was a good couple of years ago and I still winced at del Toro's producing credits on Mama, which we finally got round to watching recently. It's purely only taken so long to get around to because we were waiting for the price to drop in Asda: yes, we could've ordered it online, but that would've felt like losing. Or cheating. Or something.

Anyway. It was with trepidation I approached this one, unwilling to let myself get excited by the producer tag. I figured that nothing with Jessica Chastain in it could be all bad, so I softened a little. Even more so when I realised the male lead was Nikol.. Nicol... Jaime Lannister. Kind of made it harder to take it seriously, but too many horrors are let down by casts of bland unknowns, so I took it as a positive.

I could mostly relate to Jessica Chastain because this is how small children appear to me all the time. Even when they're being 'cute'.

 

The film's set up was pretty creepy, although I feel it played its hand early in showing 'Mama' before the credits. The two little girl leads were creepy and played their parts well, Jessica Chastain was less convincing as a goth rocker (I don't know anyone in a band who has ever said "I'm in a rock band!"), and at first her unwilling surrogate mum act made her seem selfish and whiny. However, she soon warms to her new responsibilities somewhat, and accepts the supernatural elements of the film surprisingly easily. It really annoys me when characters spend entire films refusing to believe in the obviously ghostly goings on, so it was nice that both she and the girls' psychologist buy into them without a huge deal of convincing. The film also veers from the typical syrupy happy ending, and despite some storytelling issues, was more satisfying as a result.

Also thrown into this year's spooky mix was Beyond Re-Animator, which if anything is possibly more ridiculous than the original Re-Animator film. It suffers a lot from being released in 2003, which was a good year for... well, nothing really. The acting is 90% terrible; the saving grace being whenever Jeffrey Combs is onscreen. Besides him, most of my enjoyment of this was based on me and the boy's running commentary. Oh, and a (shadow) fight between a reincarnated rat and a severed penis, which is TOTALLY worth sticking around for.

Lastly (so far, anyway, there's probably more I've forgotten and more to come), came An American Werewolf in London. I remember seeing the infamous transformation scene when I was far too young to have any business watching it. I'm fairly sure Thriller had something to do with it; I loved that video before I realised it was by the same White Michael Jackson I was so terrified of as a child. In any case, it still stands as one of the best uses of horror make up and effects I've seen, as does the decomposing state of David the Werewolf's travelling buddy, Jack.

Paper cuts are always so much worse than you think they're gonna be.

 

This is yet another film I've seen countless times but still creeps me out: I don't know whether it's the sprawling, drizzling countryside or the claustrophobic Tottenham Court Road station, but both the city and rural locations are used to great effect. The use of music is ridiculously heavy handed but the inclusion of songs with 'moon' in the title always raises a smile as well as an eye roll.

My spooky film watching seems a little down from previous years, but that's purely down to a) taking a collection of Spanish horrors to watch on a TV with no working remote, therefore no subtitles and b) an alarming upsurge in awesome things to watch on TV. Well. That were intended for TV and subsequently acquired. Sleepy Hollow has been surprisingly watchable and I'm super intrigued to see where it goes. (I did actually watch the Tim Burton film version recently too, although I'm fairly sure I blogged about it a few years ago. I doubt I'd have anything more to say on the subject: for my money it's possibly Burton's best). American Horror Story: Coven is only two episodes in, and already looks like it could be my favourite of the three so far. I was pleasantly surprised by Bates Motel: after initial disappointment that it was actually set nowadays, we got really into it and powered through the first season in a matter of days.

I'm sure after posting this I'll remember everything else I've watched this month but for now, my mind's drawing a blank. Which is probably just as well. It looks like the kind of night where I'd look out and see an oversized man in a white mask just staring up at me... I should probably go and look at pictures of pugs or something.

The Truth Is Out There. But It'll Cost You.

Ah, the internet. The great equaliser, international forum of fact and information sharing, home of amusing cats. Not even Jen from The IT Crowd could break it. Safe to say the internet has pretty much changed the way we conduct everything in life. Information we might never have known is readily available at our fingertips. We have the power to start revolutions. Or take pictures of cats sniffing our dinner plates. Whatever, I'm not governor of the internet. What you do with it is up to you.

OR IS IT? (ooh). There are many higher ups who would prefer the public are still kept in the dark when it comes to sensitive information, and those who sound the alarm are treated as outcasts, hounded down and often forced into hiding. The most famous and historically shocking was that of Wikileaks founder and platinum haired egotist/cyber prophet, Julian Assange.

Or quite possibly Ellen DeGeneres.

 

Depending on what you believe, he's either a freedom fighter for the digital age or sexually deviant blowhard who doesn't care about the consequences of his own actions. The anarchist in me likes to think the former, but there's no denying there's something a bit... odd there. The Fifth Estate attempts to lay bare the 'real story' of Wikileaks, which is somewhat difficult considering it's based on a book by his estranged former business partner Daniel Berg.

 

In any case, I enjoy a good biopic, and I also enjoy Benedict Cumberbatch. Despite bearing little physical resemblance to Assange (he kind of looks like a 6ft lizard crossed with Viserys Targaryen), he has the accent and mannerisms nailed. I also loved Daniel Bruhl in little-seen German film Goodbye, Lenin!, as well as Inglourious Basterds, and I'm enjoying his increased presence in mainstream Hollywood. So far so good, yes?

 

Well. Hmm. It's definitely a hit and miss affair. Being adapted from the side of the wronged party, The Fifth Estate paints a sympathetic portrait of Berg: a keen volunteer and initially Assange's biggest disciple, he becomes the 'straight man', reigning in his partner when he gets carried away by the bluster of his own ideas. Berg is seen here to be the one with common sense, who's looking out for people's well being while Assange seems intent of posting confidential documents regardless of the effect. Berg starts off as keen as Assange; posting the names and addresses of BNP members and proudly boasting to his kind-of girlfriend Alicia Vikander. He firmly believes that the information shouldn't be edited: this reflects bias, whereas Wikileaks only bias is towards the Truth.

 

"Look at my glorious beard, Benedict"

"I know, I Khan't quite believe it"

...sorry.

 

However, when super classified information about the Afghanistan and Iraq war logs is sent to the site, the bromance cools as Berg feels publishing the documents with names intact spells danger for those involved. It's all very tense, and they talk about it a lot in boardrooms and during heated hissy fits. This leads to one of my main problems with the film, and one of my pet hates: clunky exposition. The film's script is pretty explanatory, in that it doesn't leave much food for thought. It doesn't show anything; rather characters; backstories are revealed through lengthy monologues. Which wouldn't REALLY happen in real life.

 

Also, with the film being based on Berg's account of the story, much is made of his own private life. He was a Judo champion as a child. He has very supportive parents. There's a lot of time spent developing his relationship with his girlfriend. This would be a nice sub-plot in a fiction, but here I don't really care. It means  Assange is portrayed as some other worldly character, who we don't really dig under the skin of.

 

However, there's some attempt made to explain his motivations and why he is the way he is. The central relationship follows a nice arc, and the tension in their relationship is quite palpable. This, however, is down to the strength of the two lead performances. Quite often the supporting cast is left without much to do: David Thewlis is always a treat, but he does bluster an awfy lot. Peter Capaldi has a handful of lines, but sort of looks an ageing scarecrow wizard. Melisandre from Game Of Thrones shows up, leading me to the conclusion that the virus that eventually shuts down Wikileaks is in fact a cyber shadow child (I'm not sure; as I said it's not really explained). There's another subplot with Laura Linney as a US government aide whose career is put in jeopardy by the leaks, despite by (apparently) stellar track record. This one is probably the most developed, but it still feels a wee bit tacked on.

 

That said I did actually really enjoy this film. It's definitely a slow burner and the pace drops to a standstill at many points. It's definitely not for everyone, and some background knowledge/or interest in the scandal is probably necessary to see it through to the end. If you keep an open mind prior to watching, it's easy to get drawn into it: you're left wondering how much truth there actually is in anyone's story. Don't be put off by lazy comparisons to The Social Network: I for one liked it alot more than that. Although I really hated The Social Network. I kept wondering when Zuckerberg was going to send Spider-Man a box with JT's head in it. Or something. I definitely enjoyed it more than Assange himself. In the end, the truth of the story is so distorted that you're left to make up your own mind. Or find out more about it, at least. And isn't that really the point of a good controversy?



Insidious Really Isn't Very Good

I love me a good horror film. I also love me a bad horror film. However, when I say bad, I mean wobbly sets, wobblier accents and huge palmface moments kind of bad: think Demons, Return of The Living Dead, that kind of bad.

What really grinds my gears is a potentially good premise and a good first act thrown away by schlocky plotting and worse acting. The Conjuring was one of the highest grossing horrors of all time: good for the genre, bad for the endless vacuum of identifilms which will no doubt trail behind it. I wasn't a huge fan- there were a few good jumps but I rolled my eyes when the first ghost appeared and by the final act it had just descended into another by-the-numbers exorcism flick.

With Insidious 2 getting talked up a whole bunch, the boy and I decided to work on our ever-growing List and crack into the first one. The premise seemed interesting enough, if a little standard. However I did enjoy the first Saw (OK, the first three) and the writer/director combo of Leigh Whannel and James Wan was enough to sway me.

I had avoided Insidious because it had the bad luck to come out round about the same time as Orphan. If you haven't watched Orphan, don't. That's all I'm gonna say on the matter. I figured I'd be fair though, and give Insidious a fair chance. Turns out this was a mistake by my all too generous nature.

If you don't know or haven't guessed, the plot is fairly straightforward. Stressed out teacher dad Patrick Wilson and terrible ballad writer mum Rose Byrne and their floppy haired weans move into big, spooky house. Annoying oldest child questions lack of photographs of Dad then KO's into an inexplicable coma. Strange noises are heard on a baby monitor. More spooky things ensue. The family then move to another house (because it's that easy), where further spooky things ensue. Exposition dropping mother in law Barbara Hershey drops some exposition and tells them to call in a team of 'experts', batshit insane things ensue, BOOM, shovel to the face of a twist ending.

Thankfully I wasn't alone in thinking so. Rose Byrne thought so too.

Don't get me wrong, there were some very effective scares in this film. Mostly involving dancing children, which terrify me at the best of times. But this film is so keen to force scares in your face that most of them are hard to avoid. The lighting, sound design, hammy exposition: nothing's a surprise, so that when the good scares come along they're noticeably good.

Sadly anything which might have salvaged the film are ruined when the psychic investigator experts come a-knocking and the whole thing just becomes some weird inexplicable mess. When the link between annoying coma child and his Dad is revealed via some badly Photoshopped pictures, all logic (if that's even the word) flies out the door almost as fast as my interest.

All of this could have been somewhat saved if I had actually cared about any of the characters... but I didn't. Rose Byrne plays one bad ballad then sniffles and screams her way through the rest of the film. Patrick Wilson is predictably sceptical then buys right into it. The psychic investigators provide some laughs but they're dropped right in the middle of all the awkward hand-wringing that it feels a little cheap. There's a séance scene involving a gas mask that was unintentionally hilarious (at least I think it was), and then the climactic battle is a scare free zone that's like watching a bad stage play.

Overall, I'm very glad I watched Insidious. I could've watched the second one first and then went back to check out the original, but instead I've saved myself two hours. I'm... gonna consider that a win. Incidentally here's a better film that uses a baby monitor to beat you over the head with scares. You're welcome.

Catching Up, And Some Life Lessons

Sooo I pretty much all but abandoned this blog, along with my notion to WRITE MOAR, in the last couple of months. However ever since I posted an old blog on Twitter, I've noticed a wee jump in page views, and as anyone who's ever sat in a orthodontist's waiting room knows, it's nice to have something new to read. (My orthodontist's collection of gossip magazines is still speculating the sex of Kim Kardashian's human/camel hybrid. I expect more).

Kunts.

 

In any case I've been busy, so I've had excuses. I've been dipping a toe in the water of post-production sound (read: DREAM JOB), while making dollah doing location sound trainee work. For anyone unaccustomed to industry ranking, it's like flipping burgers in McDonald's when what you really want is to be a Michelin starred sociopath, screaming at potato peelers and spitting on guests for even daring to want to eat what you're cooking.

Still, all experience is good experience for a floundering freelance masochist like myself. It also meant I got my own digs for a month while working away from home. By digs, I mean 'student halls'. A step up from the halls I lived in aged 17, but halls nonetheless. At least these ones were en suite with a double bed. My old one featured an Oompa Loompa sized mattress and I had to share a prison style bathroom with five other girls. When it came to time of the month, it was kill or be killed.

The days were long, so my time in digs was minimal at best. I also had time to reflect on my trainee life, given that there were only two people living on each floor and I didn't hear as much as another door slam for my first fortnight. I hadn't done such a long term job in a while, and was clearly a teeny bit out of practise. After a month, I was a trainee machine. I could lift several heavy things at once while only breaking a very mild sweat. In the hope of retaining some of what I learned for 'next time', I compiled a list of all some of the lessons I learned along the way. Mostly for my own benefit and reference, but hey, I'm all about sharing information.*

*If I never get another job again and do actually end up asking you if you want to upgrade to a large for an extra £1, please feel free to disregard any of what you're about to read. I won't take offence.

1. There is no such thing as too many jobs at once.
Seriously. It might seem like you're being asked to do a million things at once and you'll never be able to do them all. That's because you are, and you won't. Not at first. When you first start out, the trick is to always look like you're getting on with things. Always stand next to a flight case or floor bag if you feel like a wee doss, but make sure it's not closed over fully. That way, you can slam it shut as someone comes in the room, as if you've JUST finished taking care of some business before you take on the rest.

2. Sleep is for the weak.
It's amazing how little you need once you get into a routine. It almost becomes a game, albeit the least fun game ever. As long as you know the words 'yes', 'no' and 'I'll get right on it' you can usually fumble through your day on autopilot. I usually find this ably supported by an over-dependence on caffeine. Which brings me to my next point...

Pictured above: a lazy intern who hasn't mastered the art of linking several straws so not even sleep can interrupt coffee time.

 

3. If you don't like coffee, you better start.
There's not much else. On-set tea generally tastes like someone's brewed an armpit, and no amount of milk and sugar will disguise it. On-set coffee tastes like brown flavoured water, but it's a vast improvement. It might also help to drink it straight out of the kettle or coffee pot; that way you might hopefully scald your tongue and therefore suppress the taste. For the most part this rule can also be applied to catering and copious sachets of salt.

4. Prepare for all climates by dressing unattractively.
Unless your job involves hair, make up or clothes. For the most part, you don't have much time to preen. As long as you, y'know, wash. Things like hair can slide. In fact it stays in place easier if you can slick it back into a ponytail using a sweet layer of natural oil, thus removing the need for hairspray. As for the face, carting batteries, mics and multiple rolls of carpet will give you a healthy sheen. Delicious!

5. Fill your pockets.
Not in a theft kinda way. Just make sure you always have pens (ball point and mini Sharpie if possible. Mini Sharpies just scream "I don't have room in my busy pockets for full sized pens!"). AA batteries too, just because they're kind of technical and someone will at some point always need one. This way you can creep up like a shadow, batteries in hand, ready to swoop in and save the day. Until you inevitably get in someone's way moments later. If you have room, stuff a copy of your script in there too. Thus should be marked up with a shorthand of your own making: it looks like you've made loads of super important notes super quick, and no one will be able to detect that you've actually just reminded yourself to get Febreze so you can continue to smoke in your room with your head out of the window. If you can remember what it is you've actually written.

6. And at the end of it all, SPEND.
SPEND LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW. You've worked for it. You've put your life on hold. And you've been really good not spending anything and squirrelling money away buying 10 fags and two pints of milk while on the job. Who cares if the next job isn't lined up right away? You've always got to look your best in case such an occurrence comes along.

Prior Preparation Prevents Poor Performance

It appears that I've broken through the first hurdle of legitimate job hunting. The first stage, applying to whatever I carefully select regardless of suitability, usually results in outright 'naw's. They tell me it's nothing to do with me but they went elsewhere anyway. Which is not entirely reassuring, but they've mind-banged me into thinking that it kind of is.

The second stage is where you liberally throw all of the shit at all of the walls, and actually start to get some feedback. This stage is features the occasional interview, which for me is a welcome relief. Unfortunately the danger here is that you forget what you've applied to, therefore are completely unaware of what shit has stuck.

Last week, I found myself being invited along for a cheeky last minute interview for what I assumed was a bar job. I was brimming with confidence. This is, after all, a job I can do in my sleep. (Sometimes I have. I dreamed I was doing a day shift and slept in for my actual day shift). I went along safe in the knowledge that I'd be at least qualified for the punting of swally.

As it turned out- and I instantly learned- you should ALWAYS KNOW WHAT YOU APPLIED TO when you go for an interview. Here is a rundown of mistakes that can possibly be made (that is to say, I actually made them), how humourless grey suited managers will interpret them (judging by the look in their eyes) and how to save face. In hindsight. Always in hindsight.

1. "Tell us about your friends and family, social activities etc".
What I said: "Umm my best friend lives in Aberdeen and I'm on Jobseeker's so I don't do much in the way of social actitivies, thank God for prepaid Cineworld Unlimited cards eh?"
What I SHOULD have said: "I enjoy a wide range of activities, such as running children's arts and crafts groups, baking, knitting, developing business strategies for funsies based on what I watch on the Stock Market channel and taking elderly people out for walks and stone skimming as they talk about yesteryear as if anything post 1960s had never happened. I have friends of all colours, races and creeds and my life is a sparkling rainbow of diversity".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I like to skin cats. Sometimes I don't even kill them first. I make the owners watch. After a while they just... stop screaming".

                                                                                      (Source: videoflavour)

Relax, kitty. I'm more afraid of you than you are of me. For serious.

2. "Tell us about your most prolific role and what your duties were"
What I said: "Ehh barmaid, but it was in a rock bar so I got to pick all the tunes which was cool, nothing worse than being stuck somewhere with rubbish music ahahahahaha! Umm apart from that I kind of done, y'know, like, everything. Table serving and stuff".
What I SHOULD have said: "As a supervisor my duties could include anything from daily set up, training staff, serving customers, counting all the pennies, totally not pretending to mishear orders so I could have a cheeky wee double Jack sitting in the wee dookit where we wash the glasses".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I totally pretended to mishear orders so I could have a cheeky wee double Jack sitting in the wee dookit where we wash the glasses".

3. "Can you give us an example of when another colleague has ever looked to you for support?"
What I said: "yeah man when I lived in town I picked up all the extra shifts when folk phoned in sick 'cause I lived round the corner. Easy money and I could get there in like, 6 minutes if I smoked really fast and didn't stop for oncoming traffic".
What I SHOULD have said: "I acted as a liaison between staff and management, a smiling face of the proletariat but one with the unbridled trust of the greater hierarchy. I was a woman of the people, addressing complaints and not minding when someone couldn't lift more than one box at a time from the stock room".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "People always came to me when they wanted good skag. I made more money from that in a day than I did in a week of underpouring shots".

4. "What's your availability regarding notice period and hours?"
What I said: "I live in Cumbernauld and my buses finish pretty early so I might not be able to hang around after like, 12. maybe 11 just to be safe".
What I SHOULD have said: "I'm available immediately and I can do any hours. I'll take out the last bin and mop up the last puddle of sick. I'll get taxis or rent a room in the Eurohostel if need be even if it means I'm not actually making any money".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "NEVER! (MANIACAL LAUGH)!!!"

5. "Do you have any questions about the job? How much do you know about it?"
What I said: "To be honest I've been applying for so many jobs lately that I'd actually forgotten what the job was... umm, I mean, until I got the phone call the other day".
What I SHOULD have said: "I am [insert job advert here] who is also [select from keen, enthusiastic, self motivated, team player, customer focused, driven by the best representation of the brand] with a can do attitude".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I put the buffet out whenever there was a birthday party on. I didn't care how it went as long as there were spring rolls left".

                                                   (Source: menuism)

I REGRET NOTHING. NOTHIIIIIIINNNNGGG!!!!

They said they'd get back to me at the end of next week. Fingers crossed!

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Sit Ups

Like 975,000 others of my kind, my days are spent glued to a laptop effectively infertilising myself with the amount of time I spend with this machine on my lap. Technically I'm a freelance sound assistant, but in the eyes of the government and my mum, this lack of sustainable income translates as the less creative sounding 'unemployed'. Still, if the time I spend on the internet pretending to no one that I'm applying to all the jobs has taught me anything, it's that for every dark cloud of rejection there is a silver lining in the form of inspirational memes. I've mentioned them before but they seem to have exploded in number. Much like bunnehs. On a side note, who doesn't like bunnehs?

                                                  (source: omgsocute )

They say if you look at this photo adoringly for long enough you cry tears made of rainbow diamonds and all conversations are conducted in song, like in the Disneyverse or that episode of Buffy.

 

Awwhh. Well I feel better. In any case I still have some of my favourite ever inspirational memes stashed away in a photo folder, just in case I become hardened to the sight of tiny fluffy smooshy BUNNEHS.

 

I truly hope that day never comes.

 

                                                       (source: tumblr )

Sometimes I do actually in a non sarcastic sense think on how I'm actually pretty lucky in having a place to stay. Because if I were to be maintaining the foolish impression that I could keep up with rent that 'someone' would be a rancid tramp who'd be trying to share his last splashback riddled bottle of White Lightning with me and I accept because I ran out of mouthwash. Sometimes it's the umm, little things.

                                                       (source: tumblr )

If that person is in fact wearing scaffy looking white boxers standing next to an unkempt and possibly stained looking not-quite-double bed, they're probably called Travis and you're in a motel. Travis is paying you $100 for the night and he's even splashing for the room. He's calling you an angel but he's also calling himself Daddy Bear. He probably has Dorito dust under his fingernails.

                                    (source: tumblr )

I decided I didn't want to feel like a human anymore. I wanted to feel like a mermaid. I filled my pockets with boulders and walked into the ocean fully clothed, assuming that it'd be like the reverse of The Little Mermaid and would totally work as long as I sang about how I wanted to be where the fishies are. In hindsight it's lucky that I'm a strong swimmer because this was a horribly misjudged idea based on terrible advice.

                                                        (source: tumblr )

It's like that time I was late for the train because I'd left my lighter in the house and I was damned if I was paying for another one AGAIN. I got to the station as the train pulled up but I was still smoking so I let it get jogged on. I got the next train instead which didn't stop anywhere before town. I felt like I had been given the Gift Of Time, which I then squandered deciding which shade of red hair dye to spend my Boots Advantage points on before opting for the same one I always do.

 

                                                       (source: tumblr )

With all my time off I've been working on Plan X. I was inspired by the £3 copy of X Men: First Class I bought when I went to Tesco's to buy cigarettes and milkshake. I plan on putting a fork in the microwave so it explodes and sends nuclear waves into the kitchen and myself, giving me super cool radiation powers and qualifying me for a place in Magneto's gang. I've been practising stabbing Nazis in the hand and everything.

I Like My Coffee Black (With A Wee Straw)

If I were to calculate the amount of money I've spent in Starbucks over the years, I'd weep. I'd weep for the corporate stooge I'd become, hating myself for the meth-like grip the evil empire had over me. I used to go in every day when I was at college. In fact, we'd quite often be late just to ensure we got our daily fix. I'm not entirely sure anyone cared. You can't be a dark, brooding art student without coffee. And a copy of The Catcher in the Rye that you don't actually read.

I wasn't aware that the South Park goth kids were supposed to be some sort of ironic piss take. In fact I applauded them for creating characters I could actually relate to. Was my face red!

 

Anyway. Starbucks and I have enjoyed a healthy fruitful relationship. We both have a laissez faire approach to paying the Government. They've now decided that a multinational corporation needs to be seen as 'friendly', and 'approachable', and have some kind of human connection. After all, shops are closing every day. People need somewhere familiar. Somewhere they can forget about their financial woes while paying as much for a single coffee as they would for a jar. In order to do so, they've come up with the idea of taking names. Now, my name is apparently quite easy to get wrong. All of it. I never order taxis under my own name, there's just no point. So when I'm shouting it over a counter, surrounded by noisy buzzin' bean junkies, the results are always going to be... umm... mixed at best...

 

This was the first attempt. Before now, I just thought they were selective with who they asked. The last time I'd went into Starbucks, the girl in front of me had been asked her name. She was very classically pretty, like she'd waltzed out of American Apparel. She looked like she would smell nice, and her hair was swooshy. By comparison, I didn't get asked for my name. I wasn't wearing eyeliner and I'd had a long day at uni. The girl behind me didn't get asked for her name either. She looked like Hatchet Face from Cry Baby.

 This is the most common misspelling/mispronunciation of my name. For years all I got was, "is your name Adrian 'cause yer maw's pure intae Rocky?". In protest I didn't watch Rocky until I was about 18; old enough to be over the embarrassment and to also know that no, I was not named after Rocky's girlfriend. I mean I'm sure my folks liked the film, but naming your child after a supporting character is a pretty bold statement. An opinion my future son, Wayne Gale Magneto Peter Venkman Calgie, will undoubtedly share.

 

 I'm embarrassed to admit that the only time my name has ever been spelled correctly was on a non-black coffee related product. I'd smelled some Jack Daniel's in someone else's glass the night before, and it had left me feeling a bit worse for wear. I couldn't face my usual black tar, and I wanted something sweet that was also non-food based. Have you ever ordered a Frappucino? It's impossible to do so without mentally giving yourself the 'wanker' gesture. And also shouting 'wanker!' at yourself, in your own head. Damned if it was tasty though, but next time I might give a fake name. Just so, y'know, if said cup is found it can't be traced back to me. I've got a reputation to maintain.

 

And we're back. I've never had a correct spelling of my name since that first time. Usually I just stop being a wanker and say 'Ada'. It's easier. It's three letters. Sometimes I get 'Ava', but you know what, I wouldn't mind if that was my name, so that's OK too. Most times I remember I actually have none of the money I did at college and bypass it. However, yesterday I needed some perking up after facing town on payday Friday. That's a tough shift, I'd earned it. The one thing I do like about my name is that no one else has it. OR SO I THOUGHT. The guy in front of me had been sent on the office coffee run. He was getting BAGS full of coffee based goodness. He was rhyming off the names for everyone's drink. I was pretty agitated as he was taking FOREVER, and my caffeine supplies were running low. My ears perked up when I suddenly heard him ask for a "mocha, that's for Ada, A-D-A". I was too embarrassed to be seen having the same name as someone who'd drink a mocha. I didn't want to be associated with this impostor and her lack of commitment to one thing. Is it hot chocolate? Is it coffee? At least a Frappucino is self-consciously flamboyant, like a peacock. It doesn't try and masquerade itself as a legitimate coffee option. Boo you, mocha, and boo you Fake Ada for tarnishing the reputation I only just got away with after the Frappucino incident.

Rant Like You Mean It

I have become something of a hermit lately. Not quite a full on, beardy, keeping jars full of urine under my own bed kind of hermit, but definitely not as active or keen to venture outside as I usually am. The worst thing about not having a job is the lack of need to go anywhere, and it starts to filter horribly into every other aspect of life.

I haven't been out of work since I was 16. My mum had me applying for jobs before I even had a National Insurance card. All through college and uni, I had part time bar jobs and always had my own money. I gave up bar work in my final year at uni, and managed to score a sweet voluntary film festival gig. I got my first paid film job a week after I graduated and since then it's... it's been quiet. I've had the odd job here and there. I've done some unpaid 'hings. But the nagging feeling creeping up on me is that perhaps the last three years have been a total waste.

I haven't worked in a shop since my first job, so apparently am not qualified to fold clothes or stack books. I haven't worked in a bar for over a year, which for employers reads "I have forgotten everything about pouring a pint or being around other humans therefore am not a valid candidate for a job I could do in my sleep". Actual film jobs are.... well, they're pretty much non existent. I keep stumbling across internships which I'm 'too old' for, and in any case they pay less than minimum wage. Which isn't great.

So what are people supposed to do? I can't get super top jobs because I don't have experience, but I can't get experience because I can't get a job. I get angry, and frustrated, and throw 'hings (mostly tantrums, because of course I still 'temporarily' live with the parents and they wouldn't be too happy with 'hing shaped dents in the wall). I get annoyed thinking of all the decisions I should've made instead of the ones that I did, and wonder at what point I actually went wrong.

Part of me thinks I'm being stupid. I'm healthy enough, I have a home and friends and a boyface with apparently all the patience ever. I was lucky enough to get into uni not once, but twice (despite attending both for possibly all of the wrong reasons, and not getting a huge amount out of it). I know that somewhere down the line this whole experience will be a tiny blip on the overall horizon, or so everyone seems quick to tell me anyway.

It's not what you want to hear in the middle of a drought of good creative jobs, but it's... something, I suppose. In any case it beats motivational Tumblr memes. Reason number 28363 why I need to get some kind of life-shape in order: I'm actually starting to take them seriously rather than mock them endlessly like I used to. Also I'm actually starting to 'get' the trick behind Rubix cubes that doesn't involve picking the stickers off and re-applying them to make all the sides the same colour.

IF ONLY I'D SEEN THIS SOONER I WOULDN'T HAVE BROKEN MY RUBIX CUBE.

I've Had Worse Sundays, But Needs More Gosling

It must be a sweet life being Ryan Gosling. Really. He makes super cool films, in which he even portrays head-stomping loners or shiftless alcoholics as being sympathetic and strangely likeable. He is also awesome in these films. Ryan Gosling literally does not make shit films. (I say this as I've never seen The Notebook. Apparently by admitting to this, I am waiving my right to a vagina).
From what I can tell this film is about Ryan Gosling's relationship with a giant face eater who has no regard for umbrellas.
After a distinctly indistinct reaction to Lords Of Salem, I was keen for something a bit more chewy. Maybe a bit of gritty realism, some character turmoils, Ryan Gosling in some kind of vehicle, emotional growth, Ryan Gosling seething, a densely plotted story, Ryan Gosling sans shirt...

At first glance The Place Beyond The Pines promised all of these. It was from Derek Cianfrance, helmer of ambivalence-fest Blue Valentine. I wanted to love Blue Valentine, and after a second viewing I did... not... hate it... but I couldn't quite feel the love that everyone else seemed to have for it. Still, I felt somewhat for our protagonists. They'd gotten a bit of a shitty deal. There was even an abortion scene for good measure. Because it's not a serious relationship drama without an abortion scene.

I didn't actually know anything about The Place apart from the blurb I'd read in the GFF programme. It really didn't give anything away and I decided not to read anything further about it. I'm glad I did; the film took several directions I wasn't prepared for, including an end-of-first-act finale that fully shocked me. R-Gos plays Handsome Luke, a stunt bike drivin' carnie covered in rubbish chicken-scratch tattoos. Obviously this makes him entirely more appealing for me (I worry sometimes). He catches up with last year's carnival flame Rowina (Eva Mendes, given a scraggy hair job and puffy eyes so you know she's doing serious acting). She now has *drum roll* yup, a baby.

Me and Ryan Gosling are meant to be because we have the same terrified expression when faced with a tiny human. Also nothing says "Mr Right" like a tiny knife face tattoo.
Handsome Luke decides the best way to provide for his child is to bluster in as though he's never been away, despite Rowina having a new man. One who has a home, car, money and is in every way a better choice of father figure. Still, it's to R-Gos's credit that you can't help but feel for Luke; his ham-fisted attempts at makeshift parenting are deeply flawed but there are some very sweet moments. All he wants to do is provide for the baby he feels he's neglected (despite not knowing he was a father in the first place).

It ticks all the boxes of indie relationship drama so far, huh? The film then takes a turn into Bradley Cooper's story. After Silver Linings Playbook I was fully prepared to get as involved in this as I did with Handsome Luke. After all, Luke was a 'bad egg' yet still adorably likeable. Cooper's Avery Cross is a husband, father, cop and comes from a good family. He's clearly the one we're supposed to be rooting for, right? Wrong. His story drags, his character comes across as utterly underhanded and unlikeable. Poor Rose Byrne is shoehorned into a tiny role which gives her no room to breathe. She's referred to as being a ball-buster by Avery's cop pals, because she shows concern over his premature return to work. That's it.

There's also the dreaded tacked on end section, thrusting the film 15 years into the future. It does this without any sort of character development; except that Avery's son AJ is a massive jock douchebag, and Luke's son Jason is a loner stoner at odds with his disjointed background. There were several points before this where I felt the film should've ended, but didn't. It was a nice touch, but slightly unnecessary. The leap forward would, I feel, have worked better if the film was in fact not a film, but a serial drama. There's alot of good ideas here, but it almost feels like too many.

As a character study, it has plenty of potential but there's so much going on that there's no wiggle room or space for anyone to develop fully. Characters such as Avery Cross seemed so single minded with their own agenda, it was hard to care for them. Even Handsome Luke's characterisation wasn't as rounded as it could've been, and the supporting cast are underdeveloped too. Female characters don't come across well; the contrast between Eva Mendes and Rose Byrne could've been far more interesting had they been given more than just sideshow roles.

This is by no means a bad film. It's a very well made film. It looks good, the buzzing neon of the carnival, the dusty streets of backwater upstate New York, the glorious stretch of green horizon of the title. There's no shortage of ideas on show, I just wish they'd been a little more selective. Blue Valentine's study of a relationship breakdown felt a bit claustrophobic at times but the closeness at least allowed us an insight into the characters' motivations (or lack thereof). At 140 mins it's already pretty lengthy and still there's alot that could've benefitted from some extra padding. Maybe I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and rewatch. Maybe I'll imagine how much more expansive and engaging it could've been as say, a three part drama. Maybe I'll remember that I'm not just a female in anatomical terms and actually get round to watching The Notebook. Stranger things have happened...

My First Frightfest

After some serious panic-writing at uni, when I'd leave blogging or writing 'til the absolute last minute, I swore I'd never again find myself writing about all the things at once. It's not as if I even took notes. I'd literally be relying on my sketchy memory alone, which was evident more so in some things than others.

Thanks to Google Image and sweet improv skills, no one will ever know I totally fell asleep before the end of The Searchers. Perfect. Crime.
In between a couple of trips to Glasgow Film Festival and a midweek cinema trip with Mama Calgie (thank you Orange and Cineworld Unlimited cards for making it easier than ever for mother/daughter bonding times), I also made a wee trip to some museums, celebrated boyface's birthday and terrorised the roads. Sooo it's been relatively busy round these parts and yes, I fell behind in my attempts to blog. Boo me. Still, I'm nothing if not really, really unemployed so thankfully my Mondays are pretty empty, giving me time to catch up in between Four Weddings (shut up) and Come Dine With Me (I bet more people watch this than admit to it).

Friday saw my first ever trip to FrightFest, a weekend long embarrassment of gory riches. I've always wanted to go for the full weekend, but our trip was for one film and one film only... Rob Zombie's Lords Of Salem. I saw a trailer for it at the Twins Of Evil tour in November, and was super disappointed that I'd have to wait until April for official release. Thanks to my good pal beewaits I managed to sneak in early and get tickets for the film's UK premiere and have been counting down the days since January. Rob Zombie's last two offerings (Halloween and Halloween 2) have been nothing short of a bit rubbish. That said, House Of 1000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects were hardly masterpieces, but they were shlocky and inventive enough to hold my attention.

The real gem, however, came before the main feature. Squeezed up in the nosebleed seats, we were introduced to the first episode of Norwegian comedy/thriller/whatever, Hellfjord. I was a bit squeamish when the words 'dead horse' were mentioned, but no way was I going to wuss out in a room full of horror fans. I have since tried to decsribe the sublime joy of Hellfjord using the words 'dead horse', but no one's buying. Trust me, it's so much better than that suggests. And I'm a vegetarian. You can find the trailer here. You won't regret it. Especially as it's Norwegian without subtitles therefore gives nothing away, apart from amusing Norwegian pronunciation HELLFJOOORD.

I was almost disappointed when it ended and up rolled Lords Of Salem. I'd kind of forgotten that's what we were there to see. Still, we'd been waiting for it long enough, and I had a wee gingerbread man, so I was pretty easily placated. In actual fact it wasn't as terrible as I thought. Even a terrible film can be saved if it's enjoyably terrible, but Lords captured my attention for the most part. (In no small part thanks to the fact that RZ thinks his wife is super hot and should wear as little clothes as possible at all times. I don't disagree).

Thank you, RZ, for slow tracking shots and liberally applied face paint.   The plot is simple enough: radio DJ and recovering addict Heidi receives a weird vinyl addressed from the cryptically titled 'Lords'. The music has a creepy effect on her, as well as several other women around Salem. Her super overfriendly landlady may or may not be involved (given that the landlady's sister is played by Dee Wallace it's easy enough to make an educated guess). Some super in depth research by local writer Francis Matthias (Bruce Davison) uncovers some 'surprising' truths about Heidi's bloodline and a link to Margaret Morgan, local coven leader and victim of the Salem Witch Trials.

The film trundled along until the last twenty minutes, after which any semblance of plot was discarded in favour of Sheri Moon Zombie riding a goat. Because of course. There was an onslaught of fake blood and gory imagery, a quick summation at the end and that... was really that. I kind of felt robbed of a payoff. We even stayed 'til the lights went up, in the hope of a wee somethin' somethin' at the end, but no. I'll no doubt make a return trip to see this when it opens on general release in April, but until then I'm actually kinda undecided how I felt about it. I did kind of love everything SMZ wore, but that's just my inner mini-mosher talking, she likes stripy 'hings and skull make up. I WILL NEVER GROW UP.

Saying that Lords Of Salem is better than the Halloween films is kind of a backhanded compliment, like saying having a cold is better than straight up dying. It's not game changing but if you like your gore in your face and a lax approach to storytelling, it's not the worst. I wish I'd been able to catch at least one more flick at FrightFest for comparison, mostly because I kinda really want to see another delicious episode of Hellfjord. I'd been hoping to catch The ABC's Of Death and Byzantium, but alas was too slow off the mark. Ah well. There's always next year. Until then, at the very least I've learned not to trust kindly faced women bearing cake. And that if I ever go under a pseudonym, it's a good idea to ensure my real name can't be found by typing said pseudonym into Google. Simple things, but valuable nonetheless.

Incidentally, just for once I'd love to see a film which deals with heroin without using a Lou Reed track. Seriously. Rather than actually shoot a heroin scene (no pun intended, for once), I'm surprised most films don't just cut to black and play a few bars of Venus In Furs.

Old School Heroes

I don't have a Twitter account. I keep going to think about setting one up, then I just... don't. It's the myriad of hashtags and RT's and people referring to each other as @. I close the page and be put the idea to bed. I'm like the annoying dieter pal who can open a fridge, have a squint and walk away, waistline unscathed.
I have nothing really against it. I can see why it's a good idea. It normalises celebrities and makes them more accessible to us everyday shlubs. Only time will tell whether this is in fact a good idea.

The question was "where are you going, ma'am?". You're in an actual cab.

 

I think I'm just nostalgic for simpler times. It's frightening that Kim Kardashian's tweet was one of the better spelled examples I could find. I would've loved to have been witness to the Golden Age of Hollywood, when film stars existed in actual film, not gossip mags and reality shows (although Living Lohan has given me more snarky pleasure than I could've hoped for). They were proper idols; enigmatic and charismatic, and rarely seen slipping a nip in drunken public. I don't doubt that they did... I just like that we didn't see it.

 

My dad has always been into the 'classic' movies, the old black and white gangster epics, Casablanca, moving images containing John Wayne's presence. "God you don't know anything about films" I tuttted with a none more teenage eye-roll. Usually while on my way to see an underdressed, sweaty cast of aesthetically pleasing no-names get hack 'n' slashed. Once I turned 20 and got over the snark I began to realise he wasn't so wrong. The old yins really are the good yins. I love LA Confidential and like most pasty, nerdy twenty-somethings am partial to all of the Tarantino but I always feel that these films are better appreciated when you see what came before them.

 

Since I'm a top daughter I got my dad tickets for White Heat which was showing as part of Glasgow Film Festival. Since I tend to just get ideas and run wildly with them like a child with scissors I overlooked the small detail of an 11am start. DOOM. The cinema was surprisingly busy though, a testament to the lasting power that a truly good movie can have. Despite having all of the flu currently available in the Glasgow area I pulled it together and actually enjoyed it. Despite its two-hour running time it didn't drag (aside from a slight technical glitch). The ending is apparently infamous but I'm glad for once I know about it in advance. Even if I did, the experience of seeing it on the big screen would've been well worth the repeat viewing.

 

Jimmy Cagney also originated the expression "boo, you whore".  

The action begins with a bold train robbery that involves Cagney jumping onto the top of a train. He kills people coldly for a big money heist. He starts fights and runs amok in prison, and even plots a daring escape. With hostages. It doesn't let up right until literally 'The End'. There are shorter films made for more money that don't have that kind of action.

 

Who knows, I might even be convinced to go and rewatch The Public Enemy, which I vaguely remember from a far off uni screening. And sometimes yes, it's OK to admit when a parent is right about something that you think you know everything about. It's totally a sign of being a grown up. However being the perma-rebellious teenager I am, my next visit to the film festival will be for the latest... umm.. surely cult venture from Rob Zombie, the gloriously titled Lords Of Salem. I'm fully prepared to love it in a completely opposite way to this. But I'm still not gonna tweet about it.

Blogging Isn't Easy Like I Thought

I never know what to write about with these things.  Most of the ones i've attempted to start have sort of run aground. I blogged for uni but it got all heavy and technical. I attempted Tumblr but I couldn't get past all the Supernatural/Doctor Who/True Blood GIFs, or inspirational quotes pasted over a background of a suitably heavily demonstrative inspirational picture.

An overexposed feather trying to break free from a jam jar does not make it any less shameful that my biggest achievement was scraping yogurt from the front of my jumper before it set and went all crusty.

In order to actually write something worthwhile, that I would stick with, I had to then decide what I would ACTUALLY write about. Short of choosing a cool username this is the hardest part. I tried to think about what's popular, because as everyone knows, hitching onto what's popular makes you popular by association. Everyone likes style blogs right? Yes... but there are far better people who know more about that kind of thing than me. I repeat the point I made up there about yogurt jumper. I don't judge clothes by what looks good. I tend to judge them by them smelling good, i.e. when they are picked up from the clothes pile where my floor used to be. I know about films. Watching them and such, talking about them, telling people why they're wrong about them when they dislike ones I like. I know about what I get up to in my own life and while I don't know exactly what all of my thoughts mean, they make more sense (to me at least) if I have somewhere to brain dump. So I might not always be the most coherent and will probably use alot of half sentences starting with 'and'. Or 'so'.

My other biggest obstacle was my fear of no one ever wanting to read anything ever. The default setting in my head is that of awkward teenager giving a presentation in class. After thinking that one over for a while, half writing posts and deleting them or saving nonsensical drafts full of spelling mistakes, I decided I kind of didn't care (although I do. It looks cooler if I say that I don't). At the very least, it's something to keep me occupied in between applying for all the jobs ever. Apparently a good old CV and covering letter of "hello, I'm a graduate, you know you want me" just isn't enough anymore, but it's a bit of a brain drain and a total chore to boot.

So there we have it, a wee... I don't know, ice breaker? It's a start anyway. Blogging about blogging is a hard one to explain. Maybe I should've just jumped on the Instawagon instead... if only I was up in time to take pictures of my lunch at actual lunchtime.