boring old me...

Yes, it's all very interesting. I now have a job. It starts tomorrow. It is temporary and I am looking forward to it. It isn't really a great job, but its ok money wise and its 40 hours a week. It's for a month, with views that it could be extended. Its in a warehouse picking and packing pharmaceutical supplies or something like that.

So after this blog I'm going to go home and drink a glass of red wine or two in celebration.

joy. I have something to fill my days besides cleaning Bradleys house and doing his washing.

He was late for work this morning and I felt really bad, I was only half asleep and should have realised time was getting on and he should have been up and leaving. Ah, not my fault he was too warm and cosy. haha.

That sounded wrong, but it really wasn't.

I popped in to Rialto to get my IRD number and Bank account details, but lo and behold April muct have cleaned out the employee files and I no longer exist, so I'm not sure how I will get those now. I'll have to take some time out from work to go to the bank or somewhere.
gosh.

What else...

hmmm.

Nothing really. Things are just plodding along with summer flying in.

I went to Raglan with Kat and her friend Anna and her boyfriend Ben, it was nice, we had a lovely picnic and then we had an icecream,
I had butterscotch which was just lovely.

That is about all. I am boring now.

the radio classifieds

Alas, I have forsaken you. I have not had access to a computer and have not blogged or even emailed for a long long time.
I have been and still am in Hamilton. I don't know why, or what I'm doing or what I want, but yeah, go figure.

I'm still alive though, just to reassure you.

I love questionnaires...

What questionnaire? I am confused. Very very confused. Does it go with the texts? hmmm. How is it coming to me? By post? Accompanied by a very exciting letter I'm sure. I have another job interview. On Tuesday, so my Hamilton visit is going to be longer than originally intended. Ah well, what harm? This one is for a Store Manager at Overland in Te Rapa. I haven't told me dad yet, any thoughts as to why? :)um, I've decided I'm not going to be shy. I say that now, but I'm gonna try and be confident. I'm awesome aren't I?!Nat, the jobs are out there, a bit like the truth...It's real. I have found many jobs to apply for in The Tron, absurd, but there was only one for me to apply for in Taupo, and it was at paper plus, I don't see that as being very fun at all... it's be okay, but I'd die of boredom living with my dad and having no friends in this town, and it was for a managers position, so who makes friends with their manager? Okay so I have, but this post is gonna have to be my next blog...

woah nelly...

Not blowing my own or anything, but my CV must be nice. I applied for (granted lots of jobbies) jobs, and already have four people to ring to discuss my details. This is the part where I screw up. Talking to people. I just need to keep myself focussed.
I have an interview lined up too, for the 5th of October! haha.
It's for a store manager, so I'm not all that optimistic having never done it before, but hey! It'd be awesome. Wouldn't it?

God it's all a bit scary when it comes to ringing people to discuss details, what do they want to discuss? God, I can't even prepare. I can do this, I can gosh darned it, I can.

Heaven help me.

Imagination

Imagination, it's a funny thing. I was listening to an old Frank sinatra song, and it kind of hit some nerve and I thought yeah, Frank’s a clever man. Assuming he wrote his own songs, because I wouldn't have a clue...

I interpret what Frank was saying as imagination is good "It makes a cloudy day sunny" but also somewhat uncontrollable "It makes a bee think of honey, just as I think of you". So imagination can make things better, but also make you think of things, that sometimes, quite frankly, you'd be better off not thinking about.

He goes on to say, imagination is crazy, which I must admit it often is. Why do we think things? Why do we pretend certain things are real, and then we have all these false thoughts and feelings, which we carry around. They become a problem when I build upon these false things, and then I have this inflated untruth.

Frank has tied imagination in with love a whole lot, well, that's how I see it: "Your whole perspective gets hazy, Starts you asking a daisy, What to do, what to do". It's nice to link the two, and yes I admit, I am guilty of imagining love the way it could be, but imagination goes a whole lot further than that.

I imagine being old and wrinkly. The way my skin is going it won't be that far away. God give me some crème-de-la-mer now. I need it, the wrinkles in the corners of my eyes are becoming a permanent fixture, they don't seem to fade once I've stopped smiling. I'm not even old. It isn't fair. I imagine going grey, gracefully, no grey regrowth for me. nuh uh. I will love my greys, shall I call them silver.

I imagine being a bird, flying in the sky, my only worry being whether or not I'll get the worm, not being an early riser, I think I'll have to go for the burnt toast on the lawn. What is imagination? It's a nice escape, it's a nice place to be, but what are you really doing? Maybe it helps like a visualisation type thing, but lets be honest, I'm not likely to assume bird form anytime soon.

"Have you ever felt a gentle touch, And then a kiss, and then and then, Find it's only your imagination again" Frank has scared the bejesus out of me again. I have this fear filled thought, that this life is all in my head, it's all buried in my mind, and that is where I am, inside my head. The real me, out there in the real world is in some padded cell, walking and talking as I do. People watch me through thick glass, and take notes.

I have been asked if I'm crazy. I think I probably am, but if I am crazy then surely the rest of the world is too? Frank, well, he is crazy in the most beautiful way possible. As beautiful as only Frank can be. "Imagination is silly, You go around willy nilly, For example I go around wanting you, And yet I can't imagine that you want me too".

Nothing to Blog about

I really have nothing interesting to blog about. It isn't so much that nothing has happened, just that my brain has run away from me at this point in time, and I must leave this computer soon.
But I thought I'd best write something.

Today: I thought I should leave the house as I hadn't the day before, and two days inside will drive anyone nuts. I was beginning to depress myself with my four walls, I even started hanging out in my room again, which reminds me I have to make my bed when I get home. I did finally finish the book I must give back to Angie.

a plus.

But yes, my brain is mushy and I need to get out of Taupo I think. I will not find a job here, but I will look in the paper for anything that might suit...

is that wrong?
no. it is perfectly fine.

must away.
xx

Social Science - Psychology, Sociology, German, and Video Production One.

Once upon a time, far, far, away, I was in the seventh form. People kept asking what was I going to do with my life. Where was I going next? To be honest with you, I had no idea. The easiest option, it seemed to me, was university. So with no clue as to what I wanted my future to hold, I perused the list of courses and chose a rather random selection of subjects purely because they looked a bit interesting.
With that, my future was decided. My destiny was in my control. I don't think I realised at the time exactly how much I was in control of. Uni isn't like school. No one appears to care if you're there or not. I guess the assumption is made that if you're spending all that money then you probably want to be there and that being said, it's safe to assume you'd make the effort to attend your lectures. That's not quite how it worked out for me.
I had this power, I could go to uni, I could stay home. It was my decision to make, and make it I did.
At the same time as all this power was going to my head, I also felt cool, I'd moved into my first flat. It was just me and two guys I kinda knew. I often wonder what might have happened had I moved into the halls, or a flat full of square students, I'm not sure I would be any different. It was in this flat I re-discovered the joys of marajuana. My consumption skyrocketed, until the phrase 'stoner girl' became sadly familiar, and I think this was when my motivation fell, sunk like a stone in fact. And it's really needless to say, but I'll say it anyway; I stoppped attending my lectures.
I started enjoying my youth. Drinking, smoking, sleeping all day only to stay up all night. Uni didn't really fit. Aside from the fact I had developed a terrible phobia of tutorials and no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn't bring myself to attend even one. It snowballed from there, once I'd missed a number of tutorials I couldn't start going to them. People might look at me, (that's paranoia).
I failed uni, ended up with a horrendous debt and nothing to show for it, except the experience of being a drop out, and a slight dependency on a drug which hung around a lot longer than uni ever would have. Who would have guessed it? I never got to Germany, to interview mental patients and make it into a documentary. What a shame. I could have changed the world.

Ahhhh timing

My timing is always up the poo.
Always.

Why god is nothing simple?

The stupid itch for one thing. I've had a stupid year to think about it and now I think it has all just gotten too much for me. How can I find out if it is mutual? I can't ask. I just can't. If they put it in the magazine I might die of embarrasment. Why did I send it to them? argh.

I can't ask because it is a bitchy thing to do. It is, I'm fucking off back to England and it wouldn't be fair. And furthermore if the itch isn't mutual, I'd end up feeling like a complete fool and then I would never be able to talk to him again. And I like talking to him, I can tell him anything, I can be a heinous bitch and he doesn't mind, he knows I don't really mean it. It's just annoying.

argh.

as for your assumptions, they make asses out of you and me. So there.

Scratching the Itch
There are things in this world that are beyond our control. One of these things is your feelings. People will argue that you can control your feelings and to a certain extent you can, but you reach a point where you realise that in controlling certain feelings, you're just denying their existence.
The more you think about them, the more real they become. The more concrete they are and as a result you think about them even more, until you just can't get them out of your head. As a rule, these feelings generally relate to other people. People you can't stop thinking about. Those few people you meet who just get right in, under your skin and leave a little piece of themselves right there under the surface. At first it itches just a little. A small persistant irritating itch, like when you first get a mosquito bite. But once you start scratching, you just can't stop.
The itch intensifies and you're left sitting on the sand furiously scratching until, suddenly it bleeds.
That's when you realise, perhaps the scratching wasn't such a good idea. Maybe, just maybe all that time, dragging your nails, could have been spent doing something, anything, that didn't bring about blood.
The problem is, after all that scratching, you're left with a scab. Which you can pick at. When it finally heals, well, you find that you still have that initial mosquito bite and you're left with a decision. To scratch or not to scratch? Is the relief from the itching worth it?
You also have to ponder the question: Will the itch ever go away? Is it something you will be forced to carry with you forever? This person, now deeply embedded under your skin. Will you always hear them inside your head? Will you always see them in your minds eye?
Will you ever build up the courage to ask if maybe, even just once, you managed to leave a little part of yourself inside them, just under the skin?
Are you infact scratching mutual itches?