I'm a terrible girl.
The majority of my friends, family, acquaintances, you name it...will tell you that. I have little to no concept of fashion, I abhore shopping and I consider my money wasted when I buy clothes and toiletries as opposed to the much happier purchases of theatre tickets, rose wine and coffee. I very rarely get through a conversation without realising that my mother has spent the majority of the time staring at whatever part of me she feels I've neglected (e.g. usually the eyebrows, she's oddly excited by the opportunity to pluck eyebrows) before catapulting me into the bathroom or making an appointment with whatever hairdresser/spa/whatnot she feels would be suitable for what she has deemed my biggest imperfection of the day. When I walk through a door, my fairly-fashionista sister (at least relatively so) is most likely to take one look at what I'm wearing, my make up or hair, and let out a big, put-upon sigh before imploring me to up my game and putting forward some suggestions for improvement. On the rare occassion I get it right she almost passes out from shock or glee...I can never quite tell which.
Appearance aside, there are a lot of other sections of my life where I feel I fall short of the expected role of 'woman' or 'girl'. It's not that I don't feel like I'm attractive, or feminine...it's not that I don't want to date men. It's not that I'm unable to create close friendships with women - I have some very close female friends whom I wouldn't trade in for the world. But, I have to say that these woman are the exception. In general, I have always identified with and felt more comfortable around men.
In this I'm not referring to anything romantic, sexual or along that vein. I mean more in the realms of friendship. I tend to prefer the high octane atmosphere that surrounds boys of all ages. Babysitting little boys is always a much tougher job than caring for girls---but generally the running madly about, trying to herd multiple kids in one direction and dodging physical attacks from all corners presents a challenge and a diversion from my natural mindset that I'm grateful for. Hanging out with my Dad we engage in such activities as martial arts or watching comedy or...eating...alot. I love the straightforwardness of men - the way that a niggling issue can be sorted in one fell swoop with a fit of yelling or a clash of fists (not that I condone fighting per se but...I'm just saying...sometimes it works...). I'm quite capable of joining in with girly gossip and tactics, but a few days of it tends to leave me exhausted. I chose to live -and did so happily- in a house of five men, because I appreciated the almost complete lack of tension around me...the knowledge that if someone had an issue with me they'd bring it up was liberating. I love how insults thrown by men at each other are meant to shock or drive someone to action, not to maim and undermine the way I feel women so often use them. I don't care about guys being disgusting -within reason I suppose- or being messy or talking rudely...if it's within what I deem natural rather than a falsified attempt to look 'manly', again I'm thrilled at the lack of pretence, the stripped down quality of the male personality. I envy a man's dedication to whatever he's doing at that precise moment - I resent the expectation that a woman can multitask, and the stark reality that what we actually do is divide our attention, worrying about intricacies that rarely exist, fluttering about different thoughts and options, and thus deny ourselves the simple, complete pleasure, satisfaction or interest in a current activity that men so naturally possess.
But, more than anything else, I am desperately jealous of the relationship men create with other men. I so often hear men complaining that they can't talk amongst themselves as women do and, while I think this is perhaps true, I am still in awe of the bond that men have. Whether it's as simple as the old 'bros before hoes' or the understanding that you'll be there in your friend's time of need, I think men have a base, instinctive honour scheme that I want to be part of.
Men can do all number of annoying, unfair or plain nasty things to each other but, when necessary, can shrug them off and go back to basics. I see the way all my close female friends have coupled off recently, how they've become an addition to another person who will always come before me, and I sense the part of our honest, open, girly relationship that has suddenly dispersed. Men -not so much. Girlfriends, wifes, lovers can come and go...obviously secrets will be kept, new lives built...but I adore the way that the majority (not all) of men keep themselves whole. They'll choose an afternoon with their friends sans girlfriend so much more often than vice versa occurring.
And this is where I'm lost.
For the majority of the time -at least in our part of the world where the gender specifications are not as strict as they once were- there's nothing frowned upon by preferring the company of boys. But, every now and then I realise my happy little group have remembered I'm a girl and that, for once, they wish I'd stick my job description. It might be that they feel they've gone a joke too far, they want to play Nazi Zombies without hearing a squeal from the corner, or simply that a new man has appeared who they fear might not be as fond of me disrupting the hormonal balance of a day, an evening, a weekend. Hey, they might simply fancy a girl-free day and despite the fact that I'm not considered a romantic/sexual option for them, I'm still a girl...and suddenly I've lost out on every front. And I'm expected to toddle off to spend time with the women (e.g. all these guys' girlfriends) - an expectation I've always resented regardless of whether it's my friends or my boyfriends pushing me off to do this.
And on my side...well sometimes it's me that snaps out of the situation. Sometimes I see the way men behave towards each other - the animalistic side that so often comes out, the flip way that they'll abandon a drunken or depressed friend expecting him to 'snap out of it'. Or watching them make their way through a variety of ladies- not stopping to consider their emotions or issues- listening to the disgusting phrases with which they refer to their latest conquests.
But the biggest issue comes, naturally, when I fall in love. And then, when my male friends can stand aside and allow my heart to be trampled on with the same indifference they show to all the other women they or their friends get involved with, I suddenly fall out of my idealised vision of the male relationship and lean back towards the fawning arms of my female friends, waiting there with the right combination of platitudes and Ben & Jerry's to temporarily ease my pain and save my ego. But two days in I'll be tired out with talking and crying and I'll head back towards my merry band of men, hoping against hope they'll pretend I never defected, and will welcome me back with open arms and a bottle of beer. I might even try Nazi Zombies. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Technophobe at 24?
Two days ago I wrote a rant regarding my decrepit computer and the fear I feel regarding the importance it holds in getting me where I want and need to be careerwise. I'm actually normally very fond of technology in general: be it the phone, computers, internet or whatnot. Very fond indeed...I am at one with technology...I'm partial to some time online. Okay I'll come clean to you. I am occasionally obsessive about the internet. I'm not ashamed. Well I am but...admitting you have a problem is the first step to curing it right? Look...it's handy to quickly access the computer's built-in dictionary or calculator when I'm working, and it's a secret pleasure to read hilarious 'texts gone wrong' on DYAC, I'm thrilled all my favourite TV shows are stored neatly online waiting for me to develop the urge for a viewing or that Facebook is ready and waiting when I...y'know...see something or maybe feel an emotion. Yes my phone rarely leaves my side (except, I'm told by friends and family, when someone might actually want to contact me) and...OKAY ENOUGH...I have an addictive personality, the internet buys into that and I have happily sat back and allowed myself to be taken entirely in thrall.
I'm aware of the drawbacks of technology. I know that the internet harbours the sort of anonymous connectivity to others that has resulted in the rise of crime, paedophilia, deception...I know that people say things in text they wouldn't in person, and that our constant attachment to our mobile phones is making us less and less social. Yes I can sense the harmful electrical waves around us, our dependency on sat navs, our inability to spell words without Microsoft Word pointing out our mistakes and I have personally seen attention spans and memory capabilities turn to mush.
But at 24 years old and constantly thrilled by the novelty and expansiveness of technology, aware of it's importance in my potential future successes and dependent on Skype to keep in touch with family and friends when I'm travelling, it's none of the above drawbacks that have finally made me snap.
So what has?
ONLINE BLEEPING BANKING.
Oh and...as a necessary follow up...TELEPHONE BLEEDING BANKING.
What I once -in my moonlit youth- considered a lifesaving, timesaving, fault-free example of the human race's modern advances in science and technology, I now see -in broad daylight- in all it's slimy, repulsive, bureaucratic, money saving reality.
Previously I thought...thankyou bank for allowing me to check my balance when I'm nowhere near an ATM. Thankyou bank for making sure I can shift money to other people and receive money back without going anywhere near your drab, person-filled building on the million pounds per hour pay and displayed high road. Oh the abandonment with with I collected peoples' online banking account numbers and sort codes. If I wrote them on individual post it notes I might even be able to wallpaper my entire bedroom.
But all these wonders -and more- have paled into dire insignificance when I realised that our banks just can't follow through on their promises.
TUESDAY JUNE 14TH:
Sound of a telephone ringing. It's me. Ringing the bank.
BANK: Hello, Bank speaking. How can I help you.
ME: Hello Bank. May I speak to an actual person please?
BANK: No Lucy. The machine will suffice.
ME: Hello Bank Machine. You do indeed seem well trained in the Bank's modus operandi so I...
BANK: Press 1 if you want to open a new account. Press 2 if you want to report a card lost or st...
I pressed 2.
BANK: You have pressed 2.
ME: Yes I have.
BANK: I'm sorry. I didn't quite under...
ME: Don't worry. 2 it is.
BANK: Please enter your sort code.
Sort Code entered.
BANK: Please enter your account number.
Account Number entered.
BANK: Please enter your date of birth. For example if you were born on the...
Date of Birth entered.
BANK: Please enter digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number.
Digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number entered. Or so I thought.
BANK: Incorrect. Now enter digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number.
Digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number entered.
BANK: Incorrect. For your own safety we have now disabled your security number.
For my own safety? I have now spoken to SIX people at the bank. They each spoke a different mother tongue. None of these were english. They asked me vague questions. For example: What is a memorable place for you? What is a name you know? I swear these were not the security questions I put in place. I know a ton of names. I know a lot of memorable places. Under duress the lady said 'For example: Where were you born'. I told her the truth. London. 'Incorrect' she said. A man asked me how long I had been banking with them. 'A long time,' I told him. 'How long' he said. I didn't know. My parents opened my first account years ago. At least seven I told him...since I was very young. 'You have failed our security measures' he told me. 'I can either post you a form to fill in or you can go to the bank'.
WHAT? I CAN GO TO THE BANK? HOW KIND OF YOU. And until I go to the bank what? Oh I'll have no debit card and no access to online or telephone banking whatsoever. So what you're saying is that I now need to drop everything and go to the bank? What if I was out of the country? What if I was uh...housebound. Why offer online and telephone banking if you can't follow through when something goes wrong? If it's online MAKE IT ONLINE. If it's telephone MAKE IT ON THE PHONE. So please Mr. Bank tell me at what point I will be able to make a trip to the bank tomorrow to change my code, order my new debit card and transfer money into my account before my phone bill payment goes through and puts me into overdraft. Will I get there in time? No, probably not. Will you charge me an overdraft fee...yes of course you will. Is it my fault for having fat fingers that have probably touched two numbers at once, thus causing all this trouble. Of course it's my fault. You know BANK, if you'd just let me talk to a real person when we started this conversation NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED.
I'm aware of the drawbacks of technology. I know that the internet harbours the sort of anonymous connectivity to others that has resulted in the rise of crime, paedophilia, deception...I know that people say things in text they wouldn't in person, and that our constant attachment to our mobile phones is making us less and less social. Yes I can sense the harmful electrical waves around us, our dependency on sat navs, our inability to spell words without Microsoft Word pointing out our mistakes and I have personally seen attention spans and memory capabilities turn to mush.
But at 24 years old and constantly thrilled by the novelty and expansiveness of technology, aware of it's importance in my potential future successes and dependent on Skype to keep in touch with family and friends when I'm travelling, it's none of the above drawbacks that have finally made me snap.
So what has?
ONLINE BLEEPING BANKING.
Oh and...as a necessary follow up...TELEPHONE BLEEDING BANKING.
What I once -in my moonlit youth- considered a lifesaving, timesaving, fault-free example of the human race's modern advances in science and technology, I now see -in broad daylight- in all it's slimy, repulsive, bureaucratic, money saving reality.
Previously I thought...thankyou bank for allowing me to check my balance when I'm nowhere near an ATM. Thankyou bank for making sure I can shift money to other people and receive money back without going anywhere near your drab, person-filled building on the million pounds per hour pay and displayed high road. Oh the abandonment with with I collected peoples' online banking account numbers and sort codes. If I wrote them on individual post it notes I might even be able to wallpaper my entire bedroom.
But all these wonders -and more- have paled into dire insignificance when I realised that our banks just can't follow through on their promises.
TUESDAY JUNE 14TH:
Sound of a telephone ringing. It's me. Ringing the bank.
BANK: Hello, Bank speaking. How can I help you.
ME: Hello Bank. May I speak to an actual person please?
BANK: No Lucy. The machine will suffice.
ME: Hello Bank Machine. You do indeed seem well trained in the Bank's modus operandi so I...
BANK: Press 1 if you want to open a new account. Press 2 if you want to report a card lost or st...
I pressed 2.
BANK: You have pressed 2.
ME: Yes I have.
BANK: I'm sorry. I didn't quite under...
ME: Don't worry. 2 it is.
BANK: Please enter your sort code.
Sort Code entered.
BANK: Please enter your account number.
Account Number entered.
BANK: Please enter your date of birth. For example if you were born on the...
Date of Birth entered.
BANK: Please enter digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number.
Digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number entered. Or so I thought.
BANK: Incorrect. Now enter digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number.
Digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number entered.
BANK: Incorrect. For your own safety we have now disabled your security number.
For my own safety? I have now spoken to SIX people at the bank. They each spoke a different mother tongue. None of these were english. They asked me vague questions. For example: What is a memorable place for you? What is a name you know? I swear these were not the security questions I put in place. I know a ton of names. I know a lot of memorable places. Under duress the lady said 'For example: Where were you born'. I told her the truth. London. 'Incorrect' she said. A man asked me how long I had been banking with them. 'A long time,' I told him. 'How long' he said. I didn't know. My parents opened my first account years ago. At least seven I told him...since I was very young. 'You have failed our security measures' he told me. 'I can either post you a form to fill in or you can go to the bank'.
WHAT? I CAN GO TO THE BANK? HOW KIND OF YOU. And until I go to the bank what? Oh I'll have no debit card and no access to online or telephone banking whatsoever. So what you're saying is that I now need to drop everything and go to the bank? What if I was out of the country? What if I was uh...housebound. Why offer online and telephone banking if you can't follow through when something goes wrong? If it's online MAKE IT ONLINE. If it's telephone MAKE IT ON THE PHONE. So please Mr. Bank tell me at what point I will be able to make a trip to the bank tomorrow to change my code, order my new debit card and transfer money into my account before my phone bill payment goes through and puts me into overdraft. Will I get there in time? No, probably not. Will you charge me an overdraft fee...yes of course you will. Is it my fault for having fat fingers that have probably touched two numbers at once, thus causing all this trouble. Of course it's my fault. You know BANK, if you'd just let me talk to a real person when we started this conversation NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
My Head
It's getting more and more widespread. Everyone from your secondary school student to your bank clerk seems to be doing it. Some people start early in the morning, others do it from their smart phones (though heavens knows how on those tiny screens and deceptive touchpads) and I normally do it last thing at night.
I'm talking about blogging. It's a phenomenon. Whether people are putting words, pictures or videos out there, they're all taking the time to sit down and share something about themselves, their lives or their opinions with the world. And why? Is it further proof of what BBC in-house Documentary maker Adam Curtis has termed the 'Century of the Self'- an era in which we all consider ourselves, our lives and our personal thoughts important to the world as a whole? A time in which we encourage personal development over utilitarian movements? Is it mere vanity? Perhaps a shout for attention? Maybe an alternative to a world in which people actually communicated their hopes and fears to those close to them on a face to face basis?
Whatever the reasons, there's now a lot of rubbish out there. I know because I've looked. One of my major qualms with the internet has always been it's lack of censorship- a point I'm certain Ryan Giggs will now happily concede to me. What I mean though is that anything can be put out there. It doesn't need to be confirmed, considered publishable...basically it doesn't need to be true. And often it isn't. There are ways to help make sure you're likely to be accessing information with real evidence to back it up: Using academic websites or those affiliated with major newspapers and companies, and avoiding Wikepedia or unofficial websites. But once you veer away from scholarly material and start testing the waters in the world of blogs you'll be rewarded with opinions aplenty but -unless people enjoy using references- very little idea of how much is true. Perhaps this isn't important. Maybe that's not why people write and/or read blogs. We have specific sites to go to for facts and, if anyone's blog does become widely read, the writer is far more likely to keep a tight rein on their sources of information.
So here's another big question: How does your blog become widely read? We keep hearing about the modern freelance writer whose blog becomes so popular that they make much of their living selling advertising or getting commissioned work off the back of their online wordage. What do these bloggers have in common? At first look not much. According to The Guardian's article 'The World's 50 most powerful blogs' back in September 2008, they are a mix of personal writings from people famous and previously unknown, and blogs created by groups or companies to spread a particular message or idea. The general similarity that ties the majority of these blogs together is the concept of a theme.
For example: 'Chez Pim' writes about food, 'Girl with a One Track Mind' writes about...sex, 'Michelle Malkin's' theme is -and I quote- 'how liberals betray America by being soft on terrorism, peddling lies about global warming and generally lacking patriotism and moral fibre' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/mar/09/blogs). When famous people write, the main theme is obviously them. Of course they might write some interesting stuff but the main reason people will have begun reading their opinions over someone else's is, basically, because they are who they are.
But I don't have a theme. Look- we can grasp at straws here and say that my over-arching theme is my persona...who I am...a 24 year old girl living in London, trying to make a living in the creative industry and writing about her experiences. But that's not really a theme...it's certainly not a solid stance or consistent opinion. Sure, give me a theme and I'll wax lyrical about it. Believe me, after 7 years at a highly academic girls' school, doing A Levels in English Literature and Modern History, I can turn out column after column, blog after blog on the same subject with new information, research and opinions in each one. But without that structure imposed out me I jump around too much, I change my mind, I get distracted by new people and experiences. So will I interest anyone? Is there anything in what I write that would arrest someone's attention, make them say 'I want to read this'.
If not, I'm not going to stop writing. Just after JD Salinger's death I heard Erica Wagner talking about him on Radio 4. In reference to unpublished works by the writer, she commented that 'in this time of celebrity people forget that people used to write because they had to write'. This hit me hard. I realised that in this world where events, emotions and possibilities are immediately broadcast to our friends and -further afar-, and where money and image are holding more and more importance, the concept of sitting down and slowly creating work for the work's sake is becoming near to obselete. So I'll write regardless. It calms me down, it forces me to stop, think and reflect. I think it might even be leading me to finding out who I am...what I want to do with my life...but let's not get carried away.
Wait! What's this? There might be a loophole in my favour here. It turns out that there are a small number of bloggers who just write about...whatever, who manage to entice people who aren't just their friends (presumably because of sparkling wit and impressive verbosity) to read their blogs on a regular basis. A perfect example of this is 'Dooce' (www.dooce.com- I notice all successful blogs have purchased their own URL address aswell. Is this therefore indicative of success being achieved or the reason why it has already been reached? Egg or Chicken?), a woman named Heather Armstrong whose blog shot to fame -or infamy- after the dotcom company she worked for fired her when she criticised them in her blog! As a result she garnered a huge amount of public interest, and now has a huge following reading her every blog- be it about her cats, her mental health or her career. I wonder if it's just the sensationalisation of it or whether it was just the nudge people needed to start reading an interesting, well-written opinionated blog.
This said, my research has turned up the result I was most expecting. The general public for the most part are not interested in reading other people's diaries. Most of us do, it seems, have a limit to our nosiness and need to spy on other people's lives. But much like the way that newspaper columnists have always garnered a following, sometimes for their subject matter and sometimes for their writing style, bloggers are just the new generation of this. They tend to get the material out faster, there is a briefer pause for editing and publishing, and it gets directly to their readers.
So I've thought about it. I've mulled and mulled and then...written this article. And now I've decided.
I
think
I'm
overthinking
this.
Yup...I've come to the conclusion that I should just shut up and write - excuse the paradox - and keep my fingers crossed that I'm writing for someone other than myself. Good day.
I'm talking about blogging. It's a phenomenon. Whether people are putting words, pictures or videos out there, they're all taking the time to sit down and share something about themselves, their lives or their opinions with the world. And why? Is it further proof of what BBC in-house Documentary maker Adam Curtis has termed the 'Century of the Self'- an era in which we all consider ourselves, our lives and our personal thoughts important to the world as a whole? A time in which we encourage personal development over utilitarian movements? Is it mere vanity? Perhaps a shout for attention? Maybe an alternative to a world in which people actually communicated their hopes and fears to those close to them on a face to face basis?
Whatever the reasons, there's now a lot of rubbish out there. I know because I've looked. One of my major qualms with the internet has always been it's lack of censorship- a point I'm certain Ryan Giggs will now happily concede to me. What I mean though is that anything can be put out there. It doesn't need to be confirmed, considered publishable...basically it doesn't need to be true. And often it isn't. There are ways to help make sure you're likely to be accessing information with real evidence to back it up: Using academic websites or those affiliated with major newspapers and companies, and avoiding Wikepedia or unofficial websites. But once you veer away from scholarly material and start testing the waters in the world of blogs you'll be rewarded with opinions aplenty but -unless people enjoy using references- very little idea of how much is true. Perhaps this isn't important. Maybe that's not why people write and/or read blogs. We have specific sites to go to for facts and, if anyone's blog does become widely read, the writer is far more likely to keep a tight rein on their sources of information.
So here's another big question: How does your blog become widely read? We keep hearing about the modern freelance writer whose blog becomes so popular that they make much of their living selling advertising or getting commissioned work off the back of their online wordage. What do these bloggers have in common? At first look not much. According to The Guardian's article 'The World's 50 most powerful blogs' back in September 2008, they are a mix of personal writings from people famous and previously unknown, and blogs created by groups or companies to spread a particular message or idea. The general similarity that ties the majority of these blogs together is the concept of a theme.
For example: 'Chez Pim' writes about food, 'Girl with a One Track Mind' writes about...sex, 'Michelle Malkin's' theme is -and I quote- 'how liberals betray America by being soft on terrorism, peddling lies about global warming and generally lacking patriotism and moral fibre' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/mar/09/blogs). When famous people write, the main theme is obviously them. Of course they might write some interesting stuff but the main reason people will have begun reading their opinions over someone else's is, basically, because they are who they are.
But I don't have a theme. Look- we can grasp at straws here and say that my over-arching theme is my persona...who I am...a 24 year old girl living in London, trying to make a living in the creative industry and writing about her experiences. But that's not really a theme...it's certainly not a solid stance or consistent opinion. Sure, give me a theme and I'll wax lyrical about it. Believe me, after 7 years at a highly academic girls' school, doing A Levels in English Literature and Modern History, I can turn out column after column, blog after blog on the same subject with new information, research and opinions in each one. But without that structure imposed out me I jump around too much, I change my mind, I get distracted by new people and experiences. So will I interest anyone? Is there anything in what I write that would arrest someone's attention, make them say 'I want to read this'.
If not, I'm not going to stop writing. Just after JD Salinger's death I heard Erica Wagner talking about him on Radio 4. In reference to unpublished works by the writer, she commented that 'in this time of celebrity people forget that people used to write because they had to write'. This hit me hard. I realised that in this world where events, emotions and possibilities are immediately broadcast to our friends and -further afar-, and where money and image are holding more and more importance, the concept of sitting down and slowly creating work for the work's sake is becoming near to obselete. So I'll write regardless. It calms me down, it forces me to stop, think and reflect. I think it might even be leading me to finding out who I am...what I want to do with my life...but let's not get carried away.
Wait! What's this? There might be a loophole in my favour here. It turns out that there are a small number of bloggers who just write about...whatever, who manage to entice people who aren't just their friends (presumably because of sparkling wit and impressive verbosity) to read their blogs on a regular basis. A perfect example of this is 'Dooce' (www.dooce.com- I notice all successful blogs have purchased their own URL address aswell. Is this therefore indicative of success being achieved or the reason why it has already been reached? Egg or Chicken?), a woman named Heather Armstrong whose blog shot to fame -or infamy- after the dotcom company she worked for fired her when she criticised them in her blog! As a result she garnered a huge amount of public interest, and now has a huge following reading her every blog- be it about her cats, her mental health or her career. I wonder if it's just the sensationalisation of it or whether it was just the nudge people needed to start reading an interesting, well-written opinionated blog.
This said, my research has turned up the result I was most expecting. The general public for the most part are not interested in reading other people's diaries. Most of us do, it seems, have a limit to our nosiness and need to spy on other people's lives. But much like the way that newspaper columnists have always garnered a following, sometimes for their subject matter and sometimes for their writing style, bloggers are just the new generation of this. They tend to get the material out faster, there is a briefer pause for editing and publishing, and it gets directly to their readers.
So I've thought about it. I've mulled and mulled and then...written this article. And now I've decided.
I
think
I'm
overthinking
this.
Yup...I've come to the conclusion that I should just shut up and write - excuse the paradox - and keep my fingers crossed that I'm writing for someone other than myself. Good day.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Rise of the Yuppie Muppy...uh...Mummy
The lady standing infront of me widened her eyes in shock. She rearranged her jaw so that the bottom half that had dropped open and hung slack in shock at my pronouncement was now returned to it's rightful place, though now screwed back in so tightly that her lips were pursing together and slowly pushing their way backwards and into her face, disappearing bit by bit.
A moment passed and then, gasping for air, she managed to expel these words towards me 'Tomorrow...and the next day?'
'Yes Madam' I responded.
'Both days?'
I looked her straight in the face. Just so there was no confusion. 'Yes Madam'.
I followed this up by attempting a smile. She looked startled and, simultaneously trying to tighten her faux fur coat around her, staggered backwards a step on her sensible day heels. Putting a hand out to steady herself on the counter behind her she called to her wayward husband who was gazing hopefully at the various confectionaries dotted around the shop.
'Quentin', she called urgently. 'QUENTIN!' He turned to look at her. She delivered the revelation with disquietingly slow and measured tones. 'Quentin. They are not open for either Christmas Day or Boxing Day. We need to purchase enough bread now to tide us over for the next two days.'
Quentin...in his defence...did not explode in rage or panic unduly. He simply nodded almost imperceptibly, confirmed this was both the correct and only possible action to take and put forward his suggestions for some healthy and other slightly more frivolous loaves to see them through the Christmas period.
Welcome to the new London. Yuppie London. Thanks to the phenomenon known as 'the skyrocketing of the house prices', previously naturally downmarket parts of London, packed to the hilt with cheerful criminals, penniless pensioners and bountiful benefit scroungers, all happily meeting up for cuppas at the local greasy spoon, speaking a variety of confusing dialects and slang, are now chic suburbs displaying fancy houses -old exteriors with sleek interiors-, boutique stores and...da dah daaaaaah...the YUPPIES.
Yup...London's mini-aristocrats, the television executives, the internet millionaires...they're all here. All packed into a variety of expensive coffee shops cum bakeries. Which is where you join us now. They say they're business owners, entrepreneurs, these women, but they seem to have a suspiciously unnatural amount of time to meet their girlfriends for lattes. Or what's it nowadays...flat whites? As long as it's skinny or soy it doesn't really matter. Or...herbal teas...they're coming back into fashion now herbal teas are. Slimming dont you know.
And there are always children. Any time of the day. The small ones are there mid-morning, and then after 3pm the little devils...the overtired, sugared up ones roll in from the private school round the corner. They're very loud. And their parents don't seem to see how letting them run around the feet of waiters carrying trays of hot tea and coffee could be a problem. Really?
You've probably guessed it by now. Yes...I did briefly join the long long list of actresses and other creatives who have waited tables for a living. But I really hit the jackpot. I worked in a coffee shop/cafe/bakery whose wonderful quality food and drink, and exorbitant prices, made it very attractive to London's filthy rich young couples and families. I soon tired of the free food, the endless coffees, the constant retraining and staff changeovers. But I never got bored of waiting to hear what any one of our esteemed customers might say next. I could write a blog a day and still not share with you some of the weirdest, most irritating or downright rude people I dealt with on a daily basis.
What could I leave you with today? The customer who came in on a regular basis to tell us that we were overpriced before purchasing a bag full of food and drink to take home? The man who waited until 15 minutes before closing...hovering like some vile wasp to watch us excitedly start closing the coffee machine early...before swooping in and demanding we serve him. Or the woman who told her child in loud, clear tones not to 'behave like you're at Poundland'.
In case you're wondering. Mr and Mrs Quentin chose a wholemeal, a country white and a fruit bread for the festive season. The day after Boxing Day, promptly at 8:30 am -after dropping the kids at holiday camp- Mrs. Quentin showed up, looking terribly put out and malnourished, and purchased another loaf with which she hurried home muttering all the time about the fetid bread wrapping the parma ham and gruyere cheese in the tiny Quentin's holiday camp lunchbox sandwiches.
A moment passed and then, gasping for air, she managed to expel these words towards me 'Tomorrow...and the next day?'
'Yes Madam' I responded.
'Both days?'
I looked her straight in the face. Just so there was no confusion. 'Yes Madam'.
I followed this up by attempting a smile. She looked startled and, simultaneously trying to tighten her faux fur coat around her, staggered backwards a step on her sensible day heels. Putting a hand out to steady herself on the counter behind her she called to her wayward husband who was gazing hopefully at the various confectionaries dotted around the shop.
'Quentin', she called urgently. 'QUENTIN!' He turned to look at her. She delivered the revelation with disquietingly slow and measured tones. 'Quentin. They are not open for either Christmas Day or Boxing Day. We need to purchase enough bread now to tide us over for the next two days.'
Quentin...in his defence...did not explode in rage or panic unduly. He simply nodded almost imperceptibly, confirmed this was both the correct and only possible action to take and put forward his suggestions for some healthy and other slightly more frivolous loaves to see them through the Christmas period.
Welcome to the new London. Yuppie London. Thanks to the phenomenon known as 'the skyrocketing of the house prices', previously naturally downmarket parts of London, packed to the hilt with cheerful criminals, penniless pensioners and bountiful benefit scroungers, all happily meeting up for cuppas at the local greasy spoon, speaking a variety of confusing dialects and slang, are now chic suburbs displaying fancy houses -old exteriors with sleek interiors-, boutique stores and...da dah daaaaaah...the YUPPIES.
Yup...London's mini-aristocrats, the television executives, the internet millionaires...they're all here. All packed into a variety of expensive coffee shops cum bakeries. Which is where you join us now. They say they're business owners, entrepreneurs, these women, but they seem to have a suspiciously unnatural amount of time to meet their girlfriends for lattes. Or what's it nowadays...flat whites? As long as it's skinny or soy it doesn't really matter. Or...herbal teas...they're coming back into fashion now herbal teas are. Slimming dont you know.
And there are always children. Any time of the day. The small ones are there mid-morning, and then after 3pm the little devils...the overtired, sugared up ones roll in from the private school round the corner. They're very loud. And their parents don't seem to see how letting them run around the feet of waiters carrying trays of hot tea and coffee could be a problem. Really?
You've probably guessed it by now. Yes...I did briefly join the long long list of actresses and other creatives who have waited tables for a living. But I really hit the jackpot. I worked in a coffee shop/cafe/bakery whose wonderful quality food and drink, and exorbitant prices, made it very attractive to London's filthy rich young couples and families. I soon tired of the free food, the endless coffees, the constant retraining and staff changeovers. But I never got bored of waiting to hear what any one of our esteemed customers might say next. I could write a blog a day and still not share with you some of the weirdest, most irritating or downright rude people I dealt with on a daily basis.
What could I leave you with today? The customer who came in on a regular basis to tell us that we were overpriced before purchasing a bag full of food and drink to take home? The man who waited until 15 minutes before closing...hovering like some vile wasp to watch us excitedly start closing the coffee machine early...before swooping in and demanding we serve him. Or the woman who told her child in loud, clear tones not to 'behave like you're at Poundland'.
In case you're wondering. Mr and Mrs Quentin chose a wholemeal, a country white and a fruit bread for the festive season. The day after Boxing Day, promptly at 8:30 am -after dropping the kids at holiday camp- Mrs. Quentin showed up, looking terribly put out and malnourished, and purchased another loaf with which she hurried home muttering all the time about the fetid bread wrapping the parma ham and gruyere cheese in the tiny Quentin's holiday camp lunchbox sandwiches.
The Single Life
‘I don’t need a man to rectify my existence. The most profound relationship we’ll ever have is the one with ourselves’. So says Actress Shirley MacLaine who was, ironically, recently judged rather thoroughly for her promiscuous past by Mark Lawson during an interview for her new book ‘I’m over all that…and other confessions’.
But okay okay, that’s all in the past now. She has been divorced from her husband for 29 years now, and claims that the relationship had been an ‘open one’. She certainly fits the profile of a modern, single, independent women with a stellar film and TV career, friends in high places and a string of book titles to her name. Her interest in New Age Spirituality is well-documented, and is clearly a major presence in her life. There certainly seems enough to keep her busy and happy without a man in her life. Whether or not she is actually currently, or planning on, dating, marrying or anything else is not information accessible to us and, let’s face it, none of our business.
Ms McClaine does, however, epitomise the very essence of what more and more women are beginning to strive for in their lives. The expectation of making a good marriage, having kids or finding one’s ‘soulmate’ is no longer quite as natural an assumption as it was a decade or so ago. Here in the West there have been so many changes in our pace of life, a greater emphasis on professional success regardless of gender, a huge increase and improvement in the education of women, and a blossoming trend of New Age religion or personal relationships with God as opposed to the more traditional organised religious communities. Have all these changes left women unanchored and made it necessary for them to re-shape their place in society? Think about it: It wasn’t so long ago that single women of a certain age were encouraged to hurry into marriage. Nowadays, a moaning single woman is told to buck up their ideas and remember that there’s more to life than men.
So is Shirley right? Is our relationship with ourselves the most important and the most enduring? Is a man an add-on extra nowadays? There’s no real answer to this. For some women singledom is the only choice, babies don’t figure and career is everything. Others have never left the time when wifedom and motherhood were the only conceivable, yearned for choice to make in life. And then there is the ever growing, most-discontented group: the ones who want it all. And yes, I place myself in this group. We’re the ones who think we can reach the upper echelons of any career we choose, standing alongside great men, but still pop home in time to cook the dinner and bond with baby. We’re the ones who walked halfway with the hardcore feminists and then found a cosy place to settle down without seeing the quest through to the end. We are, quite frankly, the ones most taken in by rom-coms, television and Mills & Boon. We consider ourselves the enlightened woman, the pin-up for the 21st Century…but are we kidding ourselves? How many of us, when push came to shove, would turn our partners out the door to concentrate on ‘our career’. How many of us would put off having children when that crucial time to make the decision arises? Do we want it all and, because of this, are we risking losing it all?
But okay okay, that’s all in the past now. She has been divorced from her husband for 29 years now, and claims that the relationship had been an ‘open one’. She certainly fits the profile of a modern, single, independent women with a stellar film and TV career, friends in high places and a string of book titles to her name. Her interest in New Age Spirituality is well-documented, and is clearly a major presence in her life. There certainly seems enough to keep her busy and happy without a man in her life. Whether or not she is actually currently, or planning on, dating, marrying or anything else is not information accessible to us and, let’s face it, none of our business.
Ms McClaine does, however, epitomise the very essence of what more and more women are beginning to strive for in their lives. The expectation of making a good marriage, having kids or finding one’s ‘soulmate’ is no longer quite as natural an assumption as it was a decade or so ago. Here in the West there have been so many changes in our pace of life, a greater emphasis on professional success regardless of gender, a huge increase and improvement in the education of women, and a blossoming trend of New Age religion or personal relationships with God as opposed to the more traditional organised religious communities. Have all these changes left women unanchored and made it necessary for them to re-shape their place in society? Think about it: It wasn’t so long ago that single women of a certain age were encouraged to hurry into marriage. Nowadays, a moaning single woman is told to buck up their ideas and remember that there’s more to life than men.
So is Shirley right? Is our relationship with ourselves the most important and the most enduring? Is a man an add-on extra nowadays? There’s no real answer to this. For some women singledom is the only choice, babies don’t figure and career is everything. Others have never left the time when wifedom and motherhood were the only conceivable, yearned for choice to make in life. And then there is the ever growing, most-discontented group: the ones who want it all. And yes, I place myself in this group. We’re the ones who think we can reach the upper echelons of any career we choose, standing alongside great men, but still pop home in time to cook the dinner and bond with baby. We’re the ones who walked halfway with the hardcore feminists and then found a cosy place to settle down without seeing the quest through to the end. We are, quite frankly, the ones most taken in by rom-coms, television and Mills & Boon. We consider ourselves the enlightened woman, the pin-up for the 21st Century…but are we kidding ourselves? How many of us, when push came to shove, would turn our partners out the door to concentrate on ‘our career’. How many of us would put off having children when that crucial time to make the decision arises? Do we want it all and, because of this, are we risking losing it all?
Lost in Technology
I’m lost. I’m stuck. I’m sitting on the floor in a room that quite frankly has seen better days with a black Mac that’s staggering on its last legs towards Apple Heaven, it’s rainbow wheel and whirring fan desperately pleading with me to take it to the Genius Bar, get a real job, earn some money and buy it’s much longed for upgrade.
I think it’s Lion next---I think that’s what they’re calling the software these days---though I’ve now missed out on quite a few generations of upgrade. In the grand scheme of the confusingly felinesque branded hard…uh…soft…whateverware, I think I’ve forced my mac to stay forever a simple moggy, the local tabby cat, while other, more cared for laptops are speeding along, sporting characteristics aptly described as ‘snow leopard’, ‘panther’ or…who knows what.
I do feel guilty. Much like I suppose a parent earning just enough to cover the food bills and necessary school uniform does when their child disappears into a sea of well-groomed, logo wearing, gadget touting kids at the school gates.
But while I hope that the fundamental qualities of parenting still remain the same, still remain as effective in raising well-adjusted, happy, intelligent, loved children regardless of these add-on’s and upgrades to their kids’ lives, I’m no longer sure that this is true of trying to work as a writer.
Yes, the talented writer can write regardless of whether they have a computer strapped to their sides, paper and pen will do quite nicely at getting the words down on the paper thank you very much, but in today’s fast paced world full of every man for himself freelancers, does the man with the speedy computer and tip top wifi have the edge?
To put it in exam paper form: If Tom and Ben both finish their hard-hitting, top news column 4 minutes before the deadline, will they both make it to the editors desktop at the same time? Or will Ben’s ‘I’m just hanging in there’ PC abort it’s operation twice before finally deciding to send the column on through, ensuring his work is marked as ‘late’, whilst Tom’s top-of-the-range ‘fully-upgraded’ Apple Mac sends it through in 30 seconds flat, leaving him time to drink a shot of espresso and sit back, smiling as he visualises his masterpiece being read and the hearty congratulations coming his way? Answers on a postcard please.
Yes- that might be a little bit of an unnecessarily long-winded way to look at it and, let’s be honest, we shouldn’t really be submitting work in 4 mins pre-deadline anyway. However, it is important to sit up and take note of the fact that the internet and computers are fast becoming our sole tool in this, and many other, businesses. No longer is it enough to possess a sharp mind and equally sharp pencil, nowadays there are all sorts of money gobbling tools, equipment, software etc. considered necessary to your writing career.
Whilst reading books and doing physical research are still important, there is now a huge amount of research that is internet based, and those with quicker access to the net are likely to be able to get their information compiled and out to the important people and places faster than those without the same luxury.
I’m constantly finding out about writing opportunities I’ve missed because I haven’t seen them advertised online: whether it be on facebook, on BBC Writersroom, on Craigslist or on Ideastap. Often the reason I haven’t trawled through these websites isn’t because I don’t find them interesting, but because what takes one person two clicks and three minutes on their computer, can take me 17 clicks, 25 minutes and 2 reboots.
It’s not just writing: PainesPlough sent out an email the other day inviting people to their open auditions, and giving places to only those in the first 90 emails. So yes…those with the lastest iPhone will, most likely (I am of course assuming) make up the majority of that audition turn out.
In other news: Not only do you need a fast, internet connected computer, but you need it to be attached to a working printer. I broke my printer, and quickly found out that it’s a) not easy and b) sometimes impossible to find somewhere to print documents for you at late notice nowadays.
I’ve had work turned down, or branded amateur, because I haven’t been able to get my hands on a copy of Final Draft Pro…which retails at a BILLON POUNDS. Or…y’know maybe a little bit less.
As I exit my phase of venting, I’d like to express that I’m not quite as naïve or self-pitying as the above may suggest. I know that everything needs some kind of investment: be it financial, time or otherwise, and I also know that if you want something enough you’ll work hard to get it. I’m well aware that people have succeeded in life with much more to deal with than a slightly cantankerous computer and, finally, yes I will admit that if I cut things like glasses of wine or lattes out of my budget for a few weeks I could most probably afford some of the things I’m instead sitting here moaning about.
I do, however, feel justified in bringing this issue up. Ultimately, hard work and talent will out. Of course it will. And perhaps networking and finding out about opportunities has always been just as hard work and related to luck as it is now, regardless of the role technology is currently playing. Though, at the risk of sounding years older than my mere 24, I can’t help wondering if it’s all happening too fast. Are we losing talented writers who lack the money or expertise to make the most of the computer age? Are some of our best actors without constant internet access missing out on important auditions and last minute casting calls? Are we prematurely leaving behind a generation of superb artists and designers because they don’t have access to the latest upgrades?
I don’t know for certain. Plus, for every person that agrees with me on this, another will have an equally valid point about why the technological advances are a boon for our business. But that’s for another time. Right now I’m going to save this document and then restart my computer to get rid of the small warning that keeps flashing up, trying to express it’s concerns about my hard disk space to me, but refusing to go away when I click it. Hopefully when I switch my computer back on the warning box will be gone and this document will still be here. Hope I’m not asking too much…
I think it’s Lion next---I think that’s what they’re calling the software these days---though I’ve now missed out on quite a few generations of upgrade. In the grand scheme of the confusingly felinesque branded hard…uh…soft…whateverware, I think I’ve forced my mac to stay forever a simple moggy, the local tabby cat, while other, more cared for laptops are speeding along, sporting characteristics aptly described as ‘snow leopard’, ‘panther’ or…who knows what.
I do feel guilty. Much like I suppose a parent earning just enough to cover the food bills and necessary school uniform does when their child disappears into a sea of well-groomed, logo wearing, gadget touting kids at the school gates.
But while I hope that the fundamental qualities of parenting still remain the same, still remain as effective in raising well-adjusted, happy, intelligent, loved children regardless of these add-on’s and upgrades to their kids’ lives, I’m no longer sure that this is true of trying to work as a writer.
Yes, the talented writer can write regardless of whether they have a computer strapped to their sides, paper and pen will do quite nicely at getting the words down on the paper thank you very much, but in today’s fast paced world full of every man for himself freelancers, does the man with the speedy computer and tip top wifi have the edge?
To put it in exam paper form: If Tom and Ben both finish their hard-hitting, top news column 4 minutes before the deadline, will they both make it to the editors desktop at the same time? Or will Ben’s ‘I’m just hanging in there’ PC abort it’s operation twice before finally deciding to send the column on through, ensuring his work is marked as ‘late’, whilst Tom’s top-of-the-range ‘fully-upgraded’ Apple Mac sends it through in 30 seconds flat, leaving him time to drink a shot of espresso and sit back, smiling as he visualises his masterpiece being read and the hearty congratulations coming his way? Answers on a postcard please.
Yes- that might be a little bit of an unnecessarily long-winded way to look at it and, let’s be honest, we shouldn’t really be submitting work in 4 mins pre-deadline anyway. However, it is important to sit up and take note of the fact that the internet and computers are fast becoming our sole tool in this, and many other, businesses. No longer is it enough to possess a sharp mind and equally sharp pencil, nowadays there are all sorts of money gobbling tools, equipment, software etc. considered necessary to your writing career.
Whilst reading books and doing physical research are still important, there is now a huge amount of research that is internet based, and those with quicker access to the net are likely to be able to get their information compiled and out to the important people and places faster than those without the same luxury.
I’m constantly finding out about writing opportunities I’ve missed because I haven’t seen them advertised online: whether it be on facebook, on BBC Writersroom, on Craigslist or on Ideastap. Often the reason I haven’t trawled through these websites isn’t because I don’t find them interesting, but because what takes one person two clicks and three minutes on their computer, can take me 17 clicks, 25 minutes and 2 reboots.
It’s not just writing: PainesPlough sent out an email the other day inviting people to their open auditions, and giving places to only those in the first 90 emails. So yes…those with the lastest iPhone will, most likely (I am of course assuming) make up the majority of that audition turn out.
In other news: Not only do you need a fast, internet connected computer, but you need it to be attached to a working printer. I broke my printer, and quickly found out that it’s a) not easy and b) sometimes impossible to find somewhere to print documents for you at late notice nowadays.
I’ve had work turned down, or branded amateur, because I haven’t been able to get my hands on a copy of Final Draft Pro…which retails at a BILLON POUNDS. Or…y’know maybe a little bit less.
As I exit my phase of venting, I’d like to express that I’m not quite as naïve or self-pitying as the above may suggest. I know that everything needs some kind of investment: be it financial, time or otherwise, and I also know that if you want something enough you’ll work hard to get it. I’m well aware that people have succeeded in life with much more to deal with than a slightly cantankerous computer and, finally, yes I will admit that if I cut things like glasses of wine or lattes out of my budget for a few weeks I could most probably afford some of the things I’m instead sitting here moaning about.
I do, however, feel justified in bringing this issue up. Ultimately, hard work and talent will out. Of course it will. And perhaps networking and finding out about opportunities has always been just as hard work and related to luck as it is now, regardless of the role technology is currently playing. Though, at the risk of sounding years older than my mere 24, I can’t help wondering if it’s all happening too fast. Are we losing talented writers who lack the money or expertise to make the most of the computer age? Are some of our best actors without constant internet access missing out on important auditions and last minute casting calls? Are we prematurely leaving behind a generation of superb artists and designers because they don’t have access to the latest upgrades?
I don’t know for certain. Plus, for every person that agrees with me on this, another will have an equally valid point about why the technological advances are a boon for our business. But that’s for another time. Right now I’m going to save this document and then restart my computer to get rid of the small warning that keeps flashing up, trying to express it’s concerns about my hard disk space to me, but refusing to go away when I click it. Hopefully when I switch my computer back on the warning box will be gone and this document will still be here. Hope I’m not asking too much…
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