Wednesday, 26 August 2009

More Career-Based Ramblings

Yes, the old man in the previous blog has very obviously affected me. I spent the majority of yesterday -well into the early hours of this morning- trying to find something, anything that could act as an aim for a future career.

So I thought, what am I good at? Unfortunately the answer is sweet f. a! The most useful thing I could come up with is I can fit my fist into my mouth with both my legs behind my head at the same time (oh yes, it has been photographed) unfortunately fetish prostitution isn't very high up in my life ambitions.

So I moved on. What sort of things to I enjoy? Luckily this didn't inspire the same feelings of objective loathing, in essence, I'm a very easy lady to please. I enjoy lots of things, usually I'm cheered up by the most simple things. I love music, but my extensive knowledge doesn't go much further than local bands - but at least that's something. Something I know that I have a fairly comprehensive knowledge of, I enjoy it, but alas Rigsy has already monopolised upon the King of Local Music crown.
I love photography. It's a fairly new endeavour, I never really got the whole Art scene in school, in fact, I was pretty damn annoyed that the art kids could have so much fun (and listen to the radio) while I was stuck in the Business Studies mobile next door. Luckily I wasn't completely consumed by jealousy as my best friend at the time seemed to have a breakdown everytime an art deadline loomed it's ugly head. But photography was never a seperate GCSE in my school so I never had any encounters with it at all. Fortunately now, years later, I've had the pleasure to meet some very talented artists and photographers. I've been given hit-and-run lessons in photography and seem to not be absolutely horrific at it. More important than any actual skill (in my opinion) I really quite like doing it.
My final option was one I've been bouncing about my empty head since GCSE, and bear with me on this one, I used to want to be a sound engineer. Random, I know. I don't really know where the desire came from, it was possibly when I decided my music career had disappeared when I went on my "give up on everything" year (I do have a habit of writing everything off when one route doesn't work out "oh the car door's closed, I guess I'll never learn to drive..." Eventually this progressed into me doing a couple of starter courses in university and realising I was slightly too mathmatically inept to be good at it, however, I found a new love, lighting! I was a lighting artist for a play once, and oh my, it does sound like a fairly non-job, but it was something I loved and did well at. Unfortunately the play lasted 2 weeks in 2nd year of uni, and never have I ventured into anything like that since, out of practice, out of love?
(I did however get to climb the beams and rig up the lights, I thought I was the coolest mo-fo in the world!)

The sad thing is, I know what I want to be when I grow up. In fact I could probably list 10 or more things I could spend the rest of my life contented to the point of ecstacy to be able to have as a career. But they all require a talent that my dumbass creative side never thought to expound upon in my early life. So, fetish prostitution it is then?

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Monday, 24 August 2009

My New Careers Advisor

Today an old man yelled at me in the street and made me run home to cry. He's generally nice enough, he lives a few doors down from my parents house and I've never had major qualms with him before, in fact, he's usually a delight. So this afternoon I was walking up the horrible hill to my house (after 21 years I still can't do it without wheezing) and I noticed him walking towards me with a big grin on his face. And so it began:

"Hi Cecil, how are you?"
"EMMA! Your hair!! I don't like it, I liked the other shade of purple, this one's too...too bright"
[Yikes, right to the jugular]
"Oh, ok..."
"So have you got a job yet?"
"Oh yes, sure I've been in my job for 2 years now"
"no, I mean proper job. What are you going to do with your life?"
[not a happy question]
"Ah, I'm not sure yet Cecil, I'll find something"
[and so began the death rant]
"EMMA you are 21 years old, you finished university in a silly degree [ouch], and you don't even have an idea about what you want to do? Just what on earth did you think would happen after you finished [my chin starts quivering]. You must have an idea, you're not stupid are you?! I mean, come on! Your poor mother, you need to wise up one of these days [eyes start welling up].
"ok Cecil" *sniff* "I'd better head home..."

Alas, the man has a point.

Wednesday, 19 August 2009

Legal Love

So since Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi is more or less guaranteed to be sent back to Libya I've been thinking about the role of compassionate grounds for release within a modern judiciary system (because I'm just that cool!) I was born in the year of the Lockerbie bombing, it holds no great emphasis for me anymore in comparison to others closer to home or events I may have more personal connections with. The liberal (read:soft touch) in me is screaming "aww c'mon, send him home to die with his family" but there's some niggling doubt in my mind. It was only in 2001 he was charged and he's meant to serve a minimum of 27 years, for killing over 200 people, mothers, fathers, children, brothers and sisters. Yes the man is dying, but he caused an insurmountable amount of grief for the families and friends of the people he killed. I'm in a state of extreme ambivilance over the entire issue, just how does one decide where compassion is warranted and where is isn't? What precedent must be set that other appeals are weighed upon? I'm going to claim ignorance on the actual legal processes involved in meriting compassionate release (or transfer in this case) but I can only imagine it's too subjective to have a set of criteria to be met, yet equally I'd imagine it occurs regularly enough for there to have to be some sort of guidelines, however strict or open to interpretation. Morally I have serious qualms with putting a value on anothers misfortune, no matter who the individual is.

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Maybe today, the world might be a more colourful place...

Why Hello :)

Tonight I make my return to blogging! I don't really know why, I think it's quite an odd concept actually, but theres something ultimately cathartic about the whole thing.

Anyway, just to make up for my abandonment I'd say I'll rattle on a fair bit.

An increasingly noticable theme that seems to be recurring around my circle of friends and onward into society as a whole is that of extreme self-involved paranoia. I am guilty of being a headcase at the best of times, but recently I've noticed other people catching up and being more vocal about their negative emotions. The problem remains as to just how necessary it is to express how you feel. A Sub-Camp Queer (I'll explain later) rule was to not be self-depricating, it was a wonderful idea that some of us made a concerted effort to follow the entire weekend. Just how effective was it to our own self worth though? Just because we don't say certain negative things doesn't mean we don't feel them. Undoubtably in oh so many cases things are said for attention, for a constant need to feel assured of ones own value, secure in the knowledge you don't look grotesque, sound stupid, act unconventionally. On the other hand does stifling these feelings inside yourself allowing them to fester without interference allow for a more socially acceptable outcome? It seems feigned self-hatred is all the rage these days, and it makes a genuine cry for help get lost amongst the flurry of cries for attention. Self worth should only ever be viewed as an abstract concept anyway, no one is worth anything, we were all born and we will all die, what happens in the middle is filled with what we want to fill it with, and no one can judge anothers worth from their own subjective choices. It's completely illogical to assign degrees of good upon an independant entity, so why does it suddenly become acceptable to ascribe it to ourselves?

Onward to happier and less head melting subjects, as I mentioned above Sub-Camp Queer was formed at Forfey (hopefully not to perpetuate the idea of band gang culture). Since then we have been meeting up regularly,specifically thanks to a wonderful young lady who shall only be known as Tesco Value Whiskey, I am immensely glad to have met such a person, and although I knew most of the other members of Camp Queer reasonably well, I think as a group we can take over the world! Happier times are to come for us all!

A selection of Sub Camp Queeros, Ruth's in this photo too but blogspot is mysteriously cutting the silly photo in two! Damn you technology! ...I'm joking I love you...don't ever change

Music has been sweeeet the past few months, I've been sorting out my back cat (I'm such a hmv drone) and I have been properly immersed in some pretty fantastic stuff. First and foremost Frightened Rabbit, but I'm still on a Manchester Orchestra buzz too! I've been hitting the oldies again, more Dylan and Neil Young. I'm moving away from my Emmy the Great and other female singer/songwriter obsession though, no real surprise there, there's been a bit of a lull recently. I lost my itunes library, I'm pretty devastated, but I'm holding out hope that the internet will hold the answer to somehow getting it back, it's going to take an age to put all the cd's on, nevermind the downloaded stuff! oh dearie me!

This entry hasn't been half as intense as I imagined, I suppose I have done an excepional job of avoiding saying the important things and instead only skimming the surface of this crazy life! And that, my friends, is why I never had a flair for reviewing!