From Bronte to Brighton

There’s a place on my way to and from work that smells, momentarily, like the undergrowth you walk past on the way down to the ocean pool at Bronte on a hot evening as twilight falls. I want to say it floods me with nostalgia, but it’s fainter than that, just a little reminder of a lovely thing that I’m aching for … ah the ocean.

Speaking of – we went to Brighton the other day. The sea there is different. Huge slabs of opaque ‘sea green’ like the colour on a Dulux paint chip chart. Heaving and rattling onto the shale beach. Not welcoming. But impressive. Walk out on the pier and look over and wow, you’re out pretty deep already. It looks a bit dangerous, you can’t see what’s under the surface. There’s no barbed wire or anything but who would jump?

I wanted to go on a ride. It seemed like the ideal place – beachside shabby chic. It’s Brighton Pier, Brighton Rock. But Isco said no. Sometimes I wonder if I married someone who is slightly non-adventurous. Odd to suggest, after Trans-Siberianing it… but there you have it. My brothers would have jumped at the chance for a rollercoaster ride. Even the Log Ride was rejected. The Dodgem Cars were considered but it just seemed like a cop out after that. I think I was secretly hoping that someone would dare me to ride the huge scary upside-downy one with them. I would have. It was that kind of day.

Where's the muse?

A few random thoughts on a Monday morning.

* Where's my muse? What inspired me? Is this (an excuse) why I am not creating?
* Where's my amusement? Why don't I laugh very much anymore? I think my face is stuck in a permanent rictus of stress.
* Met some New Zealanders last night who spent about an hour going on and on about Australia. I never realised some Kiwis were jealous of Oz. These guys had a real chip on their shoulders. Interesting (concept). Boring (to listen to).
* Learning stuff sucks. Sure you should always be educating yourself, but man... feeling like you don't know things, and will never get a handle on it, is really hard.
* Putting a positive spin on stuff is not lying. I am trying to convince myself of this.

That's all for now.

I came to London and all I got...

...Was fucked around until I died of stress

A friend recently emailed me with a 'fake' T-shirt with this message on it. I though it was amusingly apt.

Isco missed out on his latest almost-sure-thing job, and I still despise mine and think they're totally taking the piss... I really don't think they rate me at all. Is it my delivery, or being Australian? Or what? I just want to walk, but while we're still a one-income household for all intents and purposes, it's too risky.

I'm trapped.

Bloody Sundays

Hate mooching around, after reading all the weekend papers, and feeling like what the frick have I achieved? Inevitably, at this point, one's mind turns to the week ahead and starts dreading all the little annoying things that must be got through - awkward conversations, avoiding hangovers and actually working. Yuck.

Give us a go

Another rant about work. Very stressful at the moment. Feel like I'm being pulled in seventeen directions all at once. It is impossible to do everything required and do a good job. It's really one or the other. This upsets me. I'm not a perfectionist, but I like to do things well.

I also HATE when someone sees your work and makes a slightly disparaging comment - not realising the pressure you're under. Yes, I could have done a better job but there was no time, no time, no time.

Feel as though, from my small sample group of two, that people in this country are less willing to 'Give you a go'. So I'm a little untried, but you can see I've got talent - offer the chance, and let me rise to the challenge! But no, it seems like one has to prove oneself three, four, five, maybe just one more time. And then we'll consider hiring/promoting/talking to you. It sucks.

Or maybe I'm just shit.

No one commented on my exhaustive review of Live Earth! I was expecting a few accolades for that. hmm am I sensing a pattern here? Where's my recognition, dammit!

Live Earth: Laughable

Spent most of yesterday afternoon-evening watching Live Earth on the telly. What a farce. Not sure who was worse, the lame acts with their three songs apiece or the ring-in hosts, who were actually big names of UK TV -- Jonathan Ross, Graham Norton and some scottish girl. Hey, how come the guys can be old(er), funny and not particularly handsome but the women can only be young, pretty and inneffectual? I know I'm not the first to say it, but it is still so very apparent that it sometimes rankles anew.

I really hated most of the bits with the hosts. Usually like Ross, but most of the time it was as if they were at a slightly dull dinner party discussing issues that no one really knew anything about. Just chucking round banter: 'so the environment, do we care?' 'well, yes, a little bit.' 'right, good, OK, let's see another band then!'.

And it's fine to "raise awareness" and "not preach" and mention a few things about lightbulbs and not leaving appliances on stand-by, but surely they could have come up with a few more actual practical solutions for people at home? I mean... yeah. Tenous connection with music too, and what were the tickets for? I think it was all just a huge money-making scheme. But at least it all goes to charity, right? The charity of um... global warming.... give money so we can... um... save the world from climate change?... wtf?

Anyway, GENESIS: oh my lord. Were they ever even good? I joked to Isco about 'Invisible touch' and then they played it! Phil Collins is so ugly and his voice is singularly unappealing. Still, I guess it would be worse if they'd subjected us to a bunch of new material. shudder. However, the appearance of Genesis (on some misbegotten reunion tour, sheesh, it's like the 90s never happened) gives me Great Fear, because it means the likelihood of my least-favourite band of all time reforming is perhaps quite high. And this fear has been pricked by me reading the name of that ultimate ginga Mick Hucknall (randomly mentioned in the papers yesterday). I am of course, talking simply of Simply Red. Simply Bad.

METALLICA: Isco thought they were good but I had a small shudder of embarassment watching them. I don't know why. Maybe it was Hetfield's scraggly grey beard? Or slightly lame wooden guitar? Hopefully they were better live.

FOO FIGHTERS: Actually really enjoyed them and started thinking that maybe the Grohl is hot. I must have been in this country, subjected to its runty, tight-jeaned, and artful short haircutted rock stars, for too long! Sudddenly the sight of a strapping American muso type, with that slight, almost-Canadian innocence seemed like the sort of boy you'd like to snuggle up to the man-boobs of, maybe. heh

PUSSYCAT DOLLS: Hilarious.

BEASTIE BOYS: Look scarily old while still sounding young. A bit afraid they would break or dislocate a knee while throwing themselves around stage. Relieved to hear them speak after. They're keepin it real.

CROWDED HOUSE IN SYDNEY: A nice little aside. Power gone out at the Sydney concert and everyone looks perishing cold, but they struggle bravely on, for world... um... what was the message here again?

SHAKIRA IN HAMBURG: Weird.

MADONNA: Fantastic. The dress, the shoes, the guitar, the stage show. All prima! The songs were an odd mixed bag of chuck-it-all-in-there. Messages? Yeah, I'm on message, any old message you got! Here's my Roma gypsy friends (from NYC) to sing a spanish song in the centre of London! If that don't make a point about world... um... yeah... then I don't know what does! Hung Up is still one of my faves, actually made me think it may be worth going to an actual Madge concert. She's still got it. And where did she get those shoes?

I'm not Nifty!

Got an email from a former colleague today who said they'd appreciated my "nifty emails" while I was travelling. At first I thought nothing of it, but now I've dwelled on it, stewed over it and mulled the thought, I think I'm offended!

Nifty? moi? I thought I was fun, exciting, interesting, edgy. OK maybe a little unstable at times, unfriendly, judgemental, still wearing black in a way that COULD be construed as emo... but nifty? Nifty is naff.

Doesn't help it was from someone I always quite admired. You know those people who you kinda think 'if only I were a little more *insert positive characteristic you lack here* I would be JUST like them, and just as *insert notion of success*. And now to realise they just think I'm a bit of a nigel. Quite depressing!

This is the sort of thing that I could really rake over until it gives me a complex. Nifty? I mean... NIFTY? Freakin' hell.

Work sux and then you... lie?

Job is not going that well. Or rather, it's totally schizophrenic.

One day I think it's a great opportunity to progress in my career, learn stuff and really go somewhere.

The next day it feels like they're totally exploiting me, I've been lied to and they make me feel like I'm not even good at the stuff I have chosen to make a living out of.

Not much fun.

They asked us to start a work blog. Ridiculous! I said to my colleague, if I read anything you've written on there, I'll know you're not spending enough time doing the stuff I need done. I mean WTF? There is a huge divide between the management 'ideas and hot air' and the few who actually do the work. I think my main failing is actually just rolling up my sleeves and getting stuff done, instead of blustering around and delegating. What a fool I've been!

Have realised what a rare and beautiful thing GT was - a great team with nary a dud, where everyone fit nicely into the structure (or so it seemed), wanted to be there, and pretty much adequate resources. I don't regret leaving, and I don't want to end up subbing again, but I sure do miss working somewhere like that.

I b*tch too much about work, and half the time put a brave face on things (well, let's face it, half the time I feel like I can bravely face up to it!). Anyway... liking to think that wingeing about it here, actually writing it out and sending it off into cyberspace might stop my upsetting poor Isco with my nightly rants.

"Women in Love" on telly. It's weird... a story from a different time. I haven't read the book and not sure I quite get what's going on. Will have to read the book.