Hopeless. And melodramatic. But…

I’m an idiot!

I’m an idiot!

Ah!

Ah!

Gah!

I applied for five jobs this week. It’s slow going as I’m still finding my voice with the job-application-wanker-lingo. My problem is: how to express in a one page letter how amazingly qualified I am while also being succinct with just a touch of spunk.

For example, when applying for jobs at galleries the job description always includes, ‘must be detail oriented’ or ‘have good attention to detail’. So I needed to find a way of saying that I was a touch anal without making it sound too… well, anal.

So I came up with this:

“I have a good eye for detail, and am the kind of person enjoys seeing a painting hung square.”

Did you catch it?

I certainly missed it for every one of the FIVE applications I copy and pasted that DAMN sentence into.

I left out the word WHO, eg, ‘Am the kind of person WHO enjoys seeing…’

The most tragic mistake ever.

So cruel!

So, to sum up. In the sentence in which I am bragging out how detail oriented I am… I leave out an entire word so that the stupid sentence reads like I’m Dottie from the Block:

‘I am the kind of person enjoys seeing a painting hung square, cause that shit is WHACK if it ain’t straight.’

We live in a ground floor apartment that has four windows looking out into a small courtyard.

This courtyard is about 2 metres wide and four metres deep, it is essentially a concrete box however it does have a live tree growing in it and it does get natural sunlight. Unfortunately this courtyard does not belong to us. Our French neighbours have access to the courtyard and they love it. They sit on green plastic chairs, and eat bread and cheese, and talk very loudly about French politics (I overhear the word ‘Sarkozy’ a lot). I know this because when I stand at the kitchen sink they are literally one metre away from my face…

NB: See how little bench space we have? It's criminal.

The problem is Blane and I are in conflict over how to handle this situation. Blane says: Shut the window, close the curtains, don’t let them see into our apartment. I say: Open the window, open the curtains, let the neighbours see how close we are to them and maybe they'll go away.

So for the past week it’s been a game of open window-shut window in this household. This situation intensified last night when the neighbours had some friends over for courtyard drinks and I needed to go to the toilet. Our bathroom window is positioned right next to the neighbour’s backdoor.

Blane and I ended up in a lengthy, and at times heated, discussion over the best way for me to wee.

Blane said, ‘Shut window, close curtains, turn off light, DO NOT FLUSH. You must not let the neighbours realize you are weeing right next to their heads during their party. They will hate us forever and start being aggressive annoying.’

I said, ‘Leave window open, close curtains, turn on light, FLUSH. It’s a basic human right to be allowed to wee, I don’t care what the neighbours think. It’s our toilet.’

It was a ridiculous Elaine Vs Jerry argument. In the end we compromised and decided I would: Leave window open, close curtains, turn off light. NO FLUSH.

So I did my business and tried to be as quiet as possible. However, these American toilet bowls are just so wide and shallow. It’s impossible to hit the side! So some tinkle sound definitely floated out the window, and by the time I finished it was drop-dead quiet outside. Damn it. I flushed the toilet and suddenly everyone outside erupted into laughter.

They were laughing at me weeing!

I stood in the bathroom listening to their laughing feeling a bit miffed. What’s so funny about going to the toilet? Stupid French people.

However, I then heard a voice outside say clearly in English, ‘Maybe we go inside now!’

And they did. As they say in France: Flush et voila!

I've made one Australian friend since being in Manchester, and she leaves this week to go travelling and then back home to her boyfriend in Wagga Wagga. I think that's fairly shit, but you can't control other people. I've really valued her friendship over the last 6 months - it's nice to have someone who you can mumble in their direction and they understand what you're saying and the words you use and stuff. She has been an absolute minimum effort friend, and i like it!

Anyway, last night we all went out for Aunty Em's leaving drinks and her twin sister and sister's boyfriend came from Sheffield for the occasion. I'm reluctant to call the sister and her boyfriend SERIOUS BOGANS, however, they were more occa than most, and when drunk the word yobbo does spring to mind for the sister's boyfriend. This didn't make them any less fun to go out with, and particularly the boyfriend who proceeded to get throughly wasted in one of the trendiest bars in Manchester bringing out his special brand of 'dance'.

Basically, he was kinda gyrating all over the place, which was fairly unremarkable, until i caught him doing what i call 'The Chop'. You know what i mean... That move that dudes sometimes do where they use both hands and kinda 'chop' around their... well, cock.

This is an example of the Single Chop. Sadly, i didn't manage to get a pic of the Double Chop.


Though i did get a pic of a girl version of 'The Chop'.


Not the same, is it? Anyway, it was a funny dance move, is all i'm saying... one i haven't seen in action in a loooooooong time.

That said, it was a fun old night... ending at about 9am this morning. We all woke up about 5.30pm and i was sent up to buy out the entire Servo for supplies.

Parted with SIXTEEN Great British Pounds for that load of absolute junk... that's THIRTY TWO AUSTRALIAN DOLLARS. Anyway.

phase one of the job hunt:
spend hours looking through job listings identifying your 'ideal job'. having found FOUR jobs you MIGHT consider working then spend the next week composing application letters and tweaking resume.

phase two of the job hunt:
go back to job listings and be a little more realistic about the jobs you are suitable for. 'project manager'? try instead 'project assistant'. 'curator'? try instead 'unpaid intern who gets to fetch coffee for the curator'.

phase three of job hunt:
bulk applications. apply for anything and everything you can.

phase four of the job hunt:
depression/acceptance. the best and worst part of job hunting; while emotionally you hit an all time low, at the same time you really start to make the most of the unemployed lifestyle and enjoy those midday sleep-ins and afternoon lattes in the park. that is until and money runs out...

phase five:
temp work.


i'm currently only in phase one. however, i've done this so many times before i know where i'm going...

Am still working on the long post... meanwhile, here's some nice photos from the recent trip to Greece i took.I can't believe i was actually there... even though it was only about three weeks ago, it feels like ages. I love Greece.

Went travelling with two of the most inept Contiki travellers ever... they wanted to catch taxis everywhere! Anyway, i pretty much got to play tour guide, even though i knew nothing about the place either... i didn't mind too much... at least i got to see and do everything that i wanted to.

Forgive me blogosphere, for i have sinned. It's been almost one month since my last post.

I was talking to Dot the other night, and we were discussing the blog (as we often do)... mainly saying how we really should post more often and ya know, just be all round better at this whole business.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?

It occurs to us that no one know what's the fuck is going on around here (much less Dot or myself), so this is an attempt to briefly explain where in the world we are and why we never post anymore.


Name: Dot
There's no place like home: Cheltenham Rock City
Age: 27
Status: Hitched to Blane
Currently residing in: NYC, USA
Recently relocated from: Arnhem Land
Plans for future: Revel in new-found status of (green) card carrying American wannabe
Plans for present: Navigating way through SE Asia as we type/read... somewhere between Bangkok and Hanoi
Destination: Greatness
Anyone for a drink? She'll have a red, red wine

Name: Mars
There's no place like home: Oak-town USA
Age: 27
Status: Desperately seeking
Currently residing in: Manchester, UK
Plans for future: Come up with a plan. Arrange extended visa? Find first husband.
Plans for present: Pack bag, going to Greece on the weekend
Destination: Enlightenment
Anyone for a drink? I'll have a beeeeeeer


That's it.

I was wondering last night, if it must be strange for people here, to have me in their life. It's like, i come with no context. There are no people around who know me... i could be living a complete double life... i have no history. It's a really bizarre feeling, living without people you have lived with for a significant part of your life... because i guess, like it or not, these people define you to some extent.

I'm a rock
I am an island.
I'm an enigma.
I'm a ring-in.
I'm a fucking stray.

I've made some good friends in Manchester, who i'd really like to know 'my' people. It's weird, i find myself talking a lot about Dot, which i guess it quite understandable, given that we've been BFFs for the best part of 10 years... and also my brother, which is slightly less expected given my relationship with him has always been kinda tumultuous.

Thing is, in some ways i've found it liberating to just escape pretty much, my whole life. I think it was pretty obvious when i decided to come away from home that i needed to change so many aspects of what was going on at that time... be it work, home, friends, family... i'd become stagnant and wasn't really in a good spot. And i blame no one but myself for it, but it's really hard to change just one aspect of your life... because all the others kind of bring you back. If you understand what i'm trying to stay? So instead, i guess it just seemed easier to do one, and get the fuck out.

Thing is though, i'm here now... and i guess the one thing i really wanted or needed to change wasn't in fact my work, home, friends or family... it was me. Sadly, i seem to have followed me all the way to the Northern 'Sphere and truth be told, i'm struggling to come to terms with it. What are you meant to do when you're sick of your own company? I actually bore myself some times.

Conundrum.

Many many busy things happening in Manchester which i will write about some other time when i'm not so terribly busy.

Until then, check out this pic i snapped on my phone the other day... dude was parked in a car space down near my local shops.


Also, the process of poaching eggs has be revolutionised.


Silicon implants, non?

Desperately trying to fend off Monday at this point... i'm a bottle of wine down and a little bit peckish.

Gordon Ramsey; i am not.

Umm... just set my kitchen on fire.

Send halp.