Resolutions

I don't do New Year's Resolutions. They don't work and generally result in my feelings ending up somewhere near the gutter.

Recently, a good friend of mine was sprung with the news that her mother had suspected breast cancer. She has since had the lump removed and initial tests are clear, which is fantastic news. As you can imagine my friend is over the moon. She's also been inspired to take part in the Race for Life this year. I did it many years ago at high school and it damned near killed me, despite thinking I was relatively fit and active.

This year though, I'm going to do it with her.

Got it back...

... my Mojo.

Sadly, my Mojo has not extended itself to reaching for my trainers and headphones and jogging me around the block a few times to help shed the Festive Fattening, but since it's icy and pavements are 4" deep in the white stuff that's okay really.

Luckily, following a pep-talk from a girl at work who is in my position (excellent graduate, unable to currently get her feet on her career ladder) I'm feeling wholly more positive.

After a long hiatus I've looked at graduate schemes, clicked on a few PhDs and debated opening my Svensk book again.

Sometimes winter depression just does nothing for you mood. Or career.

Graduated and proud... finally!

Had my MSc graduation on Friday. For the first time I felt really proud of myself and everyone else there, rather than a feeling of negativity and foreboding. Got my gown, cuppa and tickets and froze to death on the way to the ceremony. Mortarboard kept falling off. They offered me clips but since I had to leave it off until we left the ceremony there didn't seem much point.

First time I threw it up in the air I lost it and spent a few minutes looking around the ground like some challenged blond, all the while we were being filmed for the university. Finally found it onYash's head... silly boy had picked mine up! His was behind him.

So onwards to the reception, shake hands with old lecturers and update them on happenings and careers. I got rejected from Denmark, heard on Thursday morning. I was in a very odd mood afterwards, which was strange because the rejection was quite positive. Basically the guy said that everything was perfect but my age... to cut a long story short he has recommended me to a collegeue in Berlin instead, as the age range is much younger and I'd fit in better.

My lecturers are pleased, even more so when I mentioned that I was looking for a part time research post to keep my brain ticking over. My new job is inbound call centre, but hours are 1pm until 9pm everyday, so I can use the mornings to work elsewhere and build my experience.

Quite a positive day overall.

I've been at the new job three weeks now, met some great people. We're going out for a Christmas drink tomorrow night. It will be a late one.

In honour of the Festive season I've tried to add a bit of sparkle to my usual look and have foregone straightening the frizzy mess. Remind me never to do that again. I have curls and the biggest hair I've ever had. Eek.

As hard as it was, I came back. Admittedly the desire to just turn around on the drive to Gothenburg, before security at the airport, as we walked to the plane, as we shopped Amsterdam airport, as we passed security at Amsterdam and even as we walked out of Manchester airport arrivals was really strong.

But I returned. (mini cheer)

Super grateful to Liz for accompanying me on what started as a normal out and back trip.

This is me. The day before we left I got a call to go to Copenhagen for an interview so instead we drove South from Gothenburg, ferry to Denmark, hotel for the evening and interview number 1, went out for a drink and ended up getting wasted with some Danish car salesmen (well, Liz did. Ever the practical she saw the need for my soberness at the interview the following morning and dutifully drank my beers). Had interviews 2 and 3 then mad pack at the hotel followed by a huge drive North, ferry then up to the house where...

We found we'd been burgled. Yay. This is the village in which we have left our front door wide open and gone out for the day and had nothing happen, a village where you leave your bike unchained at the bus stop and it's still there when you come back. And we got burgled. The police were very helpful, if not a little funny about the house being freezing.

Anyway, cue much wine, West Wing and stressing, followed by some DIY to fix the lock and window (all without power tools too). Add in some Christmas shopping (floral Wreath through customs anyone?) and we were stuffed with coffee, waffles and vaniljbrod. Yummy.

I'm stressing now again over the PhD interviews in Denmark. I e-mailed to thank the profs/researchers for seeing me, but now I have had three ideas for a PhD which might be useful to them. Perhaps I should e-mail the researcher who seemed really approachable and fun.

The best part of the whole week (apart from the travelling, Rob Lowe accidentally sleeping with a hooker and the wine being decent) was Liz walking into a petrol station on the way back and ordering- in perfect Swedish- two lattes and paying for them, before thanking the attendant and saying goodbye. Did I not teach her well? Admittedly she's still very confused by Scandinavian languages, but there is hope yet.. perhaps more for her than me.

Oh, and I graduate on the 18th December, wearing a purple and gold hood, and I start work on Monday.

Grammar and Keyboards

Okay, I'll admit I have had my follicularly challenged moments (blond, for those of you ignoring the PC terms) but in my defence I've never needed to get å, ä and ö on my keyboard. Anyway, at the tender age of 23 and through a little subtle investigative work I've done it.

Yay for me.

Onto the second point.

Stephen Fry can read a guide book to a language once and speak it fluently. I'm a firm believer in formulae. If something works, stick to it. Physics sorted it. Chemistry confused it. Biology used it and Maths proved it. Even language uses it.

If I know how the building blocks go together then I can put them together myself rather than learn set phrases which sound great but leave me stumped when I get a reply. I sat down and approached Swedish grammar like a formula and I think it's working. I'm learning vocab almost by accident and I vaguely understand why the Swedes have -en and -ett nouns and why these change to similar endings when pluralised... actually I really have no clue why that happens. The grammar book says it just does, and we have to just know it.

I'm going to Sweden this week to sort the house out for the winter, drink gallons of crap coffee and maybe do some DIY and hiking. Mostly though, I will get to shower in clean water and wear no make-up because nobody gives a damn.

If I don't come back I've either:

1. Found the only hot Swede in the rural areas (they all appear to be in Göteborg or Stockholm!)
   
2. Run away to join the circus
3. Died by messing up on driving solo abroad for the first time in a left-hand drive car

Puss och kram. x

Change in pace

I'm bouncing with glee, and more than a little trepidation. Who would have thought that I'd be shortlisted for a PhD at a top uni, eh?

Anyway, excited though I may be, there's still a small matter of two further interviews, liking the research topics and finding the funds to pay a month's rent and flights.

Yesterday I was contacted re: a temp job, not one I had applied for but money is good, right? Today they told me I may start tomorrow, it depends if they can free the finance director for long enough to sign off the contract for extra help. Ironic, non?

Today I received another call from a brand new agency wanting to chat to me about working for a Times Top 100 company. Ace. I might see them tomorrow, if I'm not temping.

Alongside this complete lack of success in finding a job I've been caught by Generation Kill. Now let's just put this in context: I'm a 23 year old female with no interest whatsoever in war films, documentaries or mockumentaries. I can fire a gun (thanks to a diligent and equal opportunities granddad) very well but have no desire to fire a gun anywhere near people.

I'm gripped. I kid you not. I am hungry for the next episode to see what these inhuman, deliquent, highly trained, emotional wrecks are going to do next. I desperately want Nate to come out okay. I want Brad to stop with the gratuitous shirt-shucking (okay, that was a lie!) and for Rudy to continue with his Starbucks-inspired fashionista parade through Iraq. The script is exciting. It's disturbing. But most of all, it gives a totally different look at the challenges faced by the individuals in the war.

Added to the news yesterday that five of our troops were shot whilst training the native police force by an undercover insurgent and I'm suddenly feeling more connected than I've ever been to a conflict. I have renewed respect for our boys out there. And I'm feeling horribly guilty about that because I'm a pacifist. A middle class, university educated, PhD-considering bleeding heart.

A gazilion and one

I feel like I've applied for a gazillion jobs. Seriously. You would not think that having reception, admin, call centre, retail and an advanced degree would make it so hard to find a job. My fingers are crossed in the hope that my loan payments will not fall into arrears, but my breath is not held.

In other news, I keep bumping into Scandinavians. First there were the Swedes on the train chattering away in a Southern accent, then the Norwegians in town (Liz, Cat etc should remember this) after the beer festival (great event, amazing atmosphere, fantastic ales) who requested a photo because we were English. Is it a sign, or just the football?

I'm understanding more Swedish now, forming my own sentences now I have a better idea of the grammar. I'm not great at recalling words but when I see or hear them I understand. Sadly my French isn't improving, mostly because I haven't been studying.

Motivation

Everyone has dreams. Even if they're simple ones like "Eat a nutritious meal tonight."

Some people achieve these dreams and as much as I'd like to attribute this to luck and chance it can't all be- right? What fairness in the world gives some people masses of luck and others none?

My dream is fairly simple: Get a career, preferably in something which benefits people or knowledge and is based outside of the UK, find a man, marry and have a family, travel a bit and retire to live out my days in a loving relationship with a man, endless supplies of books, chocolate and wine.

The first goal here is clearly "Get a job" and it seems to be the hardest.

I'm finding motivation and self-belief are my greatest stumbling blocks. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but being under their roof isn't the most free of places to live. My bank balance and impending loan payments are further motivation to get earning. The lack of suitable men here is more than enough motivation to get out of the UK. By the time we add in the current political climate and my hatred for the majority of the English I'm well on my way to booking a flight leaving this evening.

Motivational tips go as follows:

1. Think about whether you really want to achieve your desire
2. Make your goal very clear
3. Think often about your goal
4. Visualize your goal as already accomplished
5. Read books or articles about the subject of your goal
6. Read about people who have achieved success
7. Think often about the benefits
8. Visualize
9. Repeat positive affirmations
10. Start small

I do really want to achieve this. It might scare me, but I want to do it. My goal is clear, but flexible. I think pretty much all the time about my goal. I see myself successful in it. I read journals, biographies, newspaper articles about it. I know what the benefits will be. I visualise, dream, all the time. I keep telling myself I can do it. How much smaller can you get than "get a job"?

My problem, I feel, is that whilst I see it happening and tell myself (and people who ask "what are you going to do?") I just don't believe it deep down. It's like there are two of me and people just see the successful one and I don't believe she really exists. And with each rejection and day that I spend like this the less real she becomes.

Still nothing...

Still actively waiting. By this I mean applying for more, chasing old applications and occasionally getting upset with my CDL provider.

In order then:

Have four applications that I'm halfway through. The main stumbling block appears to be "What has been your most significant non-academic achievement?" Hmm. I survived being attacked by a lunatic? Makes me sound like I'm after a pity job. I tackled other girls into the mud in the name of sport? Makes me sound like a butch lesbian. I ate more than my dad aged 7. Ha! That's more like it.

I rang the Danish uni, failed to get through to either lecturer or course admissions tutor, so settled for e-mailing. Only one replied saying I should have had a written confirmation of my application. Erm, no. But at least I know that's not dead.

Got annoyed with the CDL provider today. They said I may be eligible for a deferment on my payments, so I rang and found out that because my benefits application has been lost and I've since worked a grand total of two days since I finished my course I am now ineligible. Bastards. Am going to ring the arrears dept. on Monday.

I can't tomorrow because BMW called me back for another day. Clearly I didn't break the coffee machine. At least I look good to the agent now.

I'm going to be watching the debate tonight on Question Time, purely to witness Griffin hang himself with whatever noose he is provided.

Don't get me wrong- benefit cheats, spongers, illegal immigrants and tax dodgers are among my pet peeves (and I'd gladly kick them, hard) but focusing on race, religion and exclusion is just plain wrong. The man should be ashamed, not least because there were videos of him on Youtube cuddling up to the KKK.

Have still heard nothing from any of my recent applications. I've signed away my legal rights to a maximum working week for a temping agency instead. It is reversable and- well if I end up working then it's more cash in the bank, no matter how far I go over the hours, unlikely though that seems.

Today I'm taking advantage of the fact that I always work better with no distractions and a focus. Here to focus my mind in an hour or so is the Blond, who needs me to teach her Project Management (thank God I aced that module. Twice.), and Photoshop (I didn't ace that one).

My language lessons have taken a new and far more interesting turn in the form of Jarnets Anglar with subtitles which is a brilliant indie film in Swedish.

I understood about half of it in Swedish once I had seperated out the sounds based on the subs. It also features the delectable Alexander Skarsgård.

Applied for a graduate job today. Telecoms in Scandinavia.

Felt pretty shit all morning- have had the house to myself all weekend and decided I'd have a guilt-free TV show day. Sadly, the guilt monster doesn't stray far from me and it came back pretty much as soon as I got up.

I did some washing, cleaned the bathroom, found out I'm working for BMW tomorrow and got off my fat lazy arse to find and apply for a job.

Parents back in 2 hours. Guilt monster not satisfied, so naturally I'm feeling angry with myself and everything. Damned meds messing with my skin, hormones and head. Feel like I'm going crazy. I have to go to the shop, nothing huge but it feels like a major drag.

I think it might be a consequence of lower temperatures, not getting anywhere on my jobhunt, still living at home and being skint...

Setting plans

The contact my tutor has turned out to be a woman I was put in touch with 18 months ago for a career chat. She agreed to meet and never returned my call. Hmmm. Have contacted my tutor to ask whether I should approach it as a totally new contact, or bring up the fact we have already been introduced via e-mail. Sadly, she may recognise me from my background.

Urgh.

In other news, my plan for today is to ring all the agencies I'm registered with to chase on temp jobs, run through the environment job sites for new openings, turbolist at least 5 items for eBay and do 30 minutes of French.

After that, some cleaning and then perhaps a delve into the wool chest to see if I can find something cheap to teach myslf knitting with. What? Well I'm skint and threw out all my holey jumpers last spring, so why not turn those balls into jumpers that fit my stupidly long upper body?

But first: washing out on the line. It might even start to dry...

Applied for another PhD today. Denmark. Looks cool, but my chances of getting it are low.

In other news my tutor put me forward for a position with a M/c based consultancy. It's only research support so nothing exciting but a lad from my course just got the same job at another branchof the same firm.

What's worrying me though is the way he described it. I'd have to be self-employed, so wouldn't get holidays or sick leave. I'd be there for 6 months and as a project term they would demand 100% committment. Sadly, either the guy sold it really badly or it is extremely tedious work only loosely related to where I want to be. If it went badly it could negatively affect the relationship between the uni and the firm, plus I'd lose a fantastic reference.

The Thermostat War has begun, with dad firmly in the "let's freeze until I start to feel mildly cool" camp and mum and I in the "our feet are already numb and outside the lounge I can't feel my fingers to type" camp. The log fire is lit, but it heats the lounge, kitchen and leaky conservatory, leaving the rest of the house in some pre-Victorian ice age state. My fingers are just about warm enough to type after massaging them for five minutes...

Bond(i) beach

Who knew Brad Pitt had a stupid beard, or that Tom Jones has white hair?

Yes, it's a Friday night and I'm sat at home watching Tomorrow Never Dies. No money and free wine, so it works for me.

So I was thinking about what I want to do in life, what I want to experience. The list is so big. How can I travel with no ties, experience love and save the world at the same time?

So my ideal life would probably be working flexible hours, helping firms/governments to work better and more efficiently towards a sustainable environment whilst living on a beach, enjoying exotic skies and learning to surf.

Is that achievable? At what cost?

The Bucket List

Or, the Suicide List.

Okay, slightly dramatic (flair for the flamboyant here), but honest. If you ever wanted to end it all, screw fate in the eye and wave goodbye to a future what would you miss out on? What would you hate to miss the chance to do?

I started my list and it's helping me to define what I want out of my career and my life.

In no particular order:

1. Learn to dance, wow an audience. I don't care if it's a dingy little salsa bar or a wedding ballroom- I want to learn to dance. I can't really not, not when my grandfather fell in love with the dancing feet of my grandmother before he even saw her face.
2. Speak at least two languages fluently. I've got English pretty much covered, but I so admire those who can communicate in more than their mother tongue.
3. Make a difference. My great-uncle saved the Peregrine Falcon from extinction with his identification of DDT back in the day and I want to live up to that.
4. Have a hot, sordid and definitely intense love. I'm 23 and the past has either been a bit 'meh' or I held back too much. I want to lose myself, my heart, my mind- and be caught by the man who caused it.
5. Learn to ride a motorbike. My mother has banned me from doing so. Perhaps it is for this reason that I feel so drawn to the leather, the power and the speed.
6. Rally driving, full throttle through the forest. Enough said.

The list is not exhaustive, but there appears to be a theme- excitement and development.

Collated all my blogs. Fairly pointless having 3 when I really just need tags. Duh.

My life so far- my heel is throbbing after wearing stupid shoes to an interview and scraping of a 10p sized chunk of skin off said heel. And no, they weren't stupid because they were fashionable (miss) high (miss) or even remotely too tight (miss). They just rubbed.

Which brings me to my second point, that of shoes. As a girl of 5'9" and a not unreasonable size 9 shoe size (any smaller and I'd topple over more often than at present) why can I not find shoes that fit? Today I spent 4 hours in town trying to find a size 9. Of the 8 shops I tried (there was a lot of wandering in between them) only two stocked a size 9 at all. Of these two, one had a limited range (3 of the 9 styles I liked came in a size 9) and of those 3 only one was actually ever in stock (and the sales lady told me once it was sold they weren't re-stocking) and it was too narrow. The other, sadly, stank of child labour and Impulse body spray but did have an impressive array of size 9 shoes AND a separate wide fit section which also went to size 9. How do size 10 girls do it?! I came away with one pair of boring, uninspired, fairly cheap black shoes. One day Jimmy Choo, you will make a size 9 and it will fit and I will be able to afford it.

In other news I have developed an unhealthy addiction to a certain US cop show, and wish now to forget my previous endeavours and become a glamorous detective.

Failing that, I had an interview yesterday and the bloke told me to call HIM after I'd had a think. Hmmm. New way of getting staff? Very weird. Something doesn't smell right and after recent work-related disasters I'm wondering if I should listen to my gut.

Since I handed in my dissertation (4th Sep, 3 days before the deadline check me out for once!) I've been applying for jobs. Career jobs. Even if they are starting positions making the tea. I don't care as long as I can work my way up and pay off my loan at the same time.

I got rejected from my dream job- developing links between Embassies and science research abroad. Sadly I didn't get feedback as to why I failed, despite requesting the information. Some firms are so busy it's not helping the little people clawing to get in.

Nevermind though. As my tutor said, get in then go sideways. A bit like crabs, but slightly more welcome at a party. Hey, I ORGANISED the party.

(I did - MBS Summer Ball 2009.)


Sorry for my writing style tonight, teensy bit hyper for no apparent reason.

Opportunities and friends

Some people have a gift for finding opportunities. One day, I'll learn how to do it.

Until then, I shall be grateful to friends who keep their bookmarks open to me and give me leads. Just now, Mo has provided a potential pot at the end of the rainbow with a consultancy link, so I shall give that a try.

My career plan though, is as follows:

1. Take what I can get, aiming high
2. Learn French, Swedish and Italian (order may vary) until fluent in a useful one
   
3. Move to Europe (if not already there)

Necessity doesn't mean I have to pay the bank back with a bad job, does it eh?

Spots, glorious spots.

Apparently, it takes a bit of time to work this stuff. Seeing as my acne is described by the docs as mild and hormone related (meaning I, like every normal menstruating women gets a few spots around that time), you'd have thought any acne I did have would have been flattened in the first few nano-seconds of me starting treatment.

Not so. Now, I have the remains of stubborn acne (stubborn to suit my own mentality I assume) and skin that isn't healing properly. I hope it doesn't scar when it does heal...

Communication and the medical profession

I have three friends either qualified or training to be doctors. They're intelligent people, but they will probably fall into this trap: failing to communicate.

I have two issues here. I'm under two sets of doctors in this adventure; one for the skin treatment (A) and one for the contraception (B). Do they talk to one another?

No.

Do they talk to me?

No.

When I went to get the Pill I had to tell doc B what doc A was treating me for, and he still had no idea what I was on about. Team A were not aware when I started the Pill until I told them.

Doc B didn't tell me about the side effects of my chosen Pill. I went for the one that sounded simple, that you take at roughly the same time each day but it's not an emergency if you forget for a couple of hours. Apparently, this one results in an extra period. Sorry blokes, girly stuff this. I'm PMS-ing for the second time in three weeks.

Not funny for me, certainly not funny for the people around me but hilarious for the makers of Neurofen.

Docs A also had a great surprise for me too- during a routine check-up, one doc let slip that my bloods from last time had been abnormal- high cholesterol at the age of 23. It's a side effect of the Isotretinoin, but I would have liked to have been told.

Sorry. It's a PMS-y rant. I'll get on with the work I'm supposed to be doing (ironically, total quality management!).

Heard back from one of the Brussels jobs- just a thank you for the application. But that's nice. The other two won't contact unless they invite me for interview.

A thought just struck me though- I'm going to have to stick around Manchester until October anyway for medical reasons, nothing serious but they will be quite annoyed if I leave the country for more than 3 weeks at a time!