The Job

16:33
The first time I was fired was today. Approximately just under two hours ago. They made it seem, on the surface, really pretty. Instead of 'fired' the term they chose to use was 'letting me go'. It was as if they were trying to create some sense of freedom that came hand in hand with my new found unemployment. I suppose that's all part of the mantra though, isn't it? The idea of nothing ever being negative, ever. Even if it is your only source of reliable income.

It was all done very 'nicely'; like a small performance put on for all the departments on the shop floor. My manager came in, told me 'well done' for having beaten our Sunday target of £400 by selling well over £500 worth of stuff, and waited until the shop floor was clear of customers before declaring the ever-ominous 'I have some bad news'. She explained I'd upset the people upstairs, and that people on the shop floor were unhappy. Seems funny that today I was told by customers on four separate occasions that I was a wonderful young woman, with a delightful manner and smile. I'd be told thank you around 20 times. It was only three O'Clock in the afternoon. But, of course, the customer is always right. And that's why I was being fired; because the customers loved me, but the shop assistants didn't.

Bitter? Maybe. Maybe this does reek of bitterness. But, to be honest, I was fired for the first time ever only two hours ago. You're all lucky this page doesn't just read; 'FUCKING C**T OFF'

xxx

Options

15:54 pm
Ok, so I've gotten myself into a truly horrific and awkward situation, from which there is no feasible way of sparing what little dignity I have. This- this needs a back story.

BACKSTORY
Last term a friend had a Birthday Thing. At said Birthday Thing I was introduced to a guy who (and I'm not being an egotistical prat when I say this) obviously was into me, and very quickly began chatting me up. I was not interested. I could not, actually, have been less interested if I had tried. This isn't anything against the guy- just because I didn't find him attractive doesn't mean that other people wouldn't. But he was the polar opposite to what I generally find attractive in a man. I felt bad- he was really trying. Maybe a little too hard, mind; I hardly got a word in edgeways. Also, in flat shoes I am 5'2". This guy was shorter than me, and considerably older. I think it's hugely hilarious on the part of the universe that the only man to have found me attractive in over a year turns out to be shorter than me. Wonderful. In the end, I managed to quickly and successfully evade his company by going to the bar. And that was that.

Oh Universe. You're so hilarious, aren't you? 'Cos guess what, folks? I'm currently experiencing what the french call 'Le most fucking embarrassing moment of my life ever'. I was holed up in Rutherford bar on campus, trying my hardest to get through Nicola Barker's "five miles from outer hope". Due to hunger, I was forced to move from my humble abode- My tummy had the rumblies only an overpriced sandwich from the campus shop could suffice. I decided to take advantage of this change of scenery, however, and head towards the library cafe for a quick coffee, before heading to the silent section on the third floor.

When I got into the library, I bumped, literally, into the Birthday Thing guy, consequently dropping both books and sandwich. Hastily picking them up, Birthday Thing guy took the opportunity to begin berating me with so many questions I felt as if I should've had a bright light shone into my eyes. After dutifully answering all of them with as little wording as possible, I felt rude not to enquire as to his own well-being. About 20 minutes later he finally stopped talking. Then the following exchange, during which my ability at digging myself into a hole was at it's peak, took place;

BTG (Birthday Thing Guy): So, what you doing now?
Me: Er, just eating my sandwich, then-
BTG: Well, if you're taking a break you should sit with me-
Me: Er, I'm not actually taking a break, I'm just-
BTG: (completely ignoring me) Yeah, I'm just set up over there *points to various seats*, so just go sit down and I'll-
Me: Well, actually I-
BTG: Be back in a mo- I just have to make toilet

Yep. He actually said that.
'I just have to make toilet'
Leaving me completely baffled, he strode off towards the men's loos. I, now utterly confused, walked into the library seating area, and glanced over at the direction in which he had pointed. I had two choices; I could either A) be the world's biggest bitch and flee from the library itself, never to appear again, OR I could B) go and sit with him and be trapped there indefinitely. I, however, chose the invisible and unclear option of C) quickly speeding off into the library cafe, and sitting down around the corner from where he was sat. The reason this option was invisible is because it's also stupid. Of course, I didn't realise that until about 5 minutes ago, when I finished my sandwich and then saw that in order to leave the library cafe, where I couldn't work, and go the the silent section as planned I would have to walk past him.

By this point I know he has sat back down and is probably thinking 'Cor, what a bitch, to have just left without saying anything' because why on earth would anyone sit around the corner from the person they're tyring to avoid? The only exit from the library cafe is through the seating area; I now have to leave by walking past him. What do I do?? Do I do A) the sensible and adult thing, go up to him and calmly explain that I wasn't taking a break and didn't see the point of sitting with him whilst I ate? Or do I do B) the responsible and potentially embarrassing thing and explain to him how I didn't feel comfortable sitting with him for fear of leading him on and tell him I just want to be friends??
Oh god, I have to move now. The waitress in the cafe is looking at me funny because I haven't actually bought anything, just sat here desperately scribbling into my notebook. Here goes.

16:26pm
I chose invisible option C) Childishly run through both library cafe and seating area, without looking back, and diving through the door, bolting up the stairs to the third floor silent section.

Oh life. You fail.

xXx

disillusionabalelabelabealled

Me and Alex were having a natter about how disillusioned we have become with our blogs. He said he felt that he didn't write about himself enough, and I said I felt like I wrote too much about my tiny little life to really interest anyone.

Upon glancing back through my blog since september last year, however, I noticed that I haven't really been writing...well, anything. Occasionally I'll put up (what I deem to be) a little hilarious converchat between myself and one of my ridiculous family members or friends, but other than that it's all a bit...meh. I looked back at the glory days of my blog during first year; before the age of Twitter, I hasten to add. I used to write hundreds and hundreds of blogs, most of them itty bitty insights into what I was up to that day and stupid stuff that happened to me. But now? Now all the stupid stuff goes on Twitter. How stupid is that??

Then again it could just be that not many exciting things happen to me anymore. I mean, I can't remember the last time I was on campus and saw a bin on fire.

I'm not gonna type here and pretend that I'm going to suddenly reform my ways and everyday there'll be an 'Amy Update' or anything. Like I said, I don't wanna make it a 'ALL ABOUT ME ALL THE TIME RAH RAH I'M AMAZING AREN'T I?' type situation. I'm just gonna try and make more of an effort to not put EVERYTHING on Twitter- I tweet too much anyways- and instead just keep you guys posted on the happening haps of my not so happening life. Cos to say that NOTHING has happened to me recently would be a massively gross overstatement. And you guys know how i'm SO not prone to exaggeration, like, ever, duh.

So yeah. Wooo writing.

xXx

Fickle

Emma: What y'up to?
Me: Deleting messages from my kentmail. I have 250+ messages, and it's taking forever, 'cos I have to go through one by one checking I don't need them
Emma: Ah that sucks
Me: You know what really does piss me off, though?
Emma: What?
Me: The fuckin', 'deleted messages' folder thing-
Emma: Ahhhhh i knoww!
Me: What the hell?? First I have to delete all these, then I have to go through that deleting them? it's so stupid, I hate it

(5 minutes later)

Emma: So what are you doing tonight?
Me: (finger held down on 'delete') Well, me and Con were going to- *gasp* NOOOOOOO-
Emma: What?
Me: NONONONONONOOOOOO!
Emma: Amy, what is it?!?!?
Me: I wasn't supposed to delete that one! Shit, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?!
Emma: Er, er, er, quick- go into your deleted items!
Me: (looks puzzled) Wha- OH YEAH! (clicks folder) Ahhhhh, look, there it is! Oh, deleted items folder. You are the best folder there has ever been. Emma, seriously, this is like the greatest thing ever, see? It's just there! Ah, man, how relieved am I right now? Win.


xXx

number9dream

Here's the review I wrote on 'number9dream' by David Mitchell (no, not THAT one) for my Novel writing seminar, thing. and stuff.

In David Mitchell's 'number9dream' we accompany Eiji Miyake on his journey to Tokyo, in the hope of finding the father who abandoned him and his twin sister Anju; they are the result of an illegitimate affair with their alcoholic mother his father would rather forget. On the surface the story seems bored, predictable and potentially riddled with cliché; in practice, Mitchell has turned it into one of the most compelling and emotive stories of the 21st century.
We begin in a run-down café, with a determined Eiji psyching himself up to go and confront a law-firm who he believes hold information that will help him find his father. We then relive this moment three times over; each time an extension of reality with a different result. We realise that the overtly imaginative Eiji is daydreaming as to the possibilities of the day. This blend between reality and the ridiculous is an underlying method used by Mitchell throughout the novel. The first chapter alone creates a concoction of reality and the mystique that flows through the novel; whether it is via Eiji's imagination or that of another mind, the few matter-of-fact occurrences of his life (that could be seen as mundane but are in fact beautiful) are accompanied by ludicrous and spell-binding creation of other worlds, parallels and realities.
The lyrical quality of of Mitchell's words is breath-taking. In amongst reason and fact lie subtle sentences, so full of beauty and contemplation that you cannot help but be stunned by his ability to select the right words at the right time. A discussion on the meaning of life between Eiji and love interest Ai Imajo, whilst he watches his cat lap at water, is a perfect demonstration of Mitchell's ability to find beauty in amongst everyday occurrences. This style can also be found in his descriptions of Tokyo; they bring it to life in a way a photo could dream to, as you create the world so effortlessly in your mind, thanks to his wonderful use of words. Because he has helped you to imagine you truly feel as if you are stood behind the shoulder of Eiji, throughout it all. It is not only his journey- it also becomes yours.
Eiji's narrative provides a lucid foreground for our story to take place; detailed and intricate, Mitchell's ability to write the ridiculous as matter-of-factly as the norm allows us to become lost in Eiji's imagination. This also allows the subtle themes to come through on a level of ethos we only experience because of the strength of Eji's narrative voice; the idea of loss, not only of his parental heritage, becomes stronger and stronger in not only the moments where Eiji is directly speaking of his father, but in the times where events much bigger than his character are taking place. Eiji's tendency to remember echoes of a past life and normality, create an empathy that stings within the reader, making the idea of loss so much more effective.
Mitchell's 'number9dream' is a masterpiece; intricate, detailed, but never tiring.

xXx

PS Sorry i haven't written much. things have been hella crazy up in here. i'll try to come back sooner, i promise (nothing)

(500) Days of...

I used to be a 'Tom'. Now I'm definitely a 'Summer'.

McKenzie: [drunk] So do you have a boyfriend?
Summer: No.
McKenzie: Why not?
Summer: Because I don’t want one.
McKenzie: Come on; I don’t believe that.
Summer: You don’t believe that a woman could enjoy being free and independent?
McKenzie: Are you a lesbian?
Summer: [laughing] No I’m not a lesbian. I just, don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s girlfriend. I don’t actually feel comfortable being anyone’s anything.
McKenzie: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Summer: Really?
McKenzie: Nope.
Summer: Ok, let me break it down for you–
McKenzie: Break it down!
Summer: Ok. I, like being on my own. I think relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it? We’re young, we live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world; might as well have fun while we can and, save the serious stuff for later.
McKenzie: Oh my God, you’re a dude. [to Tom] She’s a dude!
Tom: Ok but wait–wait. What happens, if you fall in love?
[she scoffs]
Tom: What?
Summer: You don’t believe that, do you?
Tom: It’s love, it’s not Santa Claus.

xXx

Science and History; as taught by Pandy

Me: Mum, here's some news; they've changed the astrological star sign dates... thing.
Mum: They've what?
Me: you know how your birthday relates to a star sign-
Mum: Oh, the zodiac?
Me: yeah!! S'been changed now. I'm now an...Aquarius.
Mum: Well, no, that's rubbish, bloody changing them-
Me: Well, no, it's cos-
Mum: Why do they keep bloody changing things??? They got rid of sodding Pluto already!
Me:...erm...but NASA said-
Mum: sod NASA, because they got rid of Pluto for being too small, THEY MAKE THIS CRAP UP AS THEY GO ALONG!I tell you Amy, I went beserk when I found out they got rid of it for being too small,HOW CAN YOU GET RID OF SOMETHING FOR BEING SMALL?? IT'S STILL THERE!
Me: Well, it just wasn't technically a planet anymor-
Mum: It is a planet- IT IS A BLOODY A PLANET!!
Fozz: What are you shouting about now, Ma??
Mum:THAT THEY GOT RID OF PLUTO.
(Fozz sighs, whilst Dad laughs in the back round)
Mum: It's not funny, Andrew! Is that to say small people don't exist, cos small planets don't exist???
Me: Er, no, no I don't think that's what they were saying at al-
Mum: It's rubbish, it's rubbish, it's all crap. Short people make the history!
Me: The history??
Mum: They make the history yeah, maybe not for good things, but you know Napoleon. AND Hitler. The fact they were tiny made history.
Me: I never started any history lessons with the tinier you are, the more history you'll make, although not necessarily for a good reason
Mum: Hitler- He was tiny. And he only had one gonad. and he had a moustache. Not good really, is it, for old Hitler??
Me: *speechless* Well- er
Mum: do not ever let Pluto go, Amy. We short people have to stick together.
Me:...does this mean I now have to advocate Napoleon and Hitler?

xXx