Growing Up: A Guide for Amateurs

This guide is brought to you by someone who has a lot of free time. The author spends her time making up mid-sentence rhymes and chasing her dog around singing the 'Murder She Wrote' theme tune and greeting her as 'Detective Dog'. Please note: Items included within the guide may not be all that useful (although they are meant with the best intentions).

Here are a few statistics (as you know, I love maths...) for you about my 2013. 

*Times I saw my closest friends: 5 or less for all of them

*Holidays I went on: 0

*Times I thought 'I love my life!: 0-1

*Times I accidentally talked to myself: Countless

*Amount of box sets I watched: Infinity and one

So, as you might guess, it wasn't that great a year. If I could describe it in one word it would be: 'Meh' with a shoulder shrug.

My New Year's Resolution was to grow up. It was also to stop thinking negatively or be consumed by my own anxieties. I want to do things I really love in 2014. I want to do things just because I can. I want to be happy. And I'm hoping, if I put some good karma out there, good things will happen in exchange. I am dipping my toe in the Sea of Tranquility (or insert other hippy terminology here). So this blog is to mention a few things I am doing differently.

1. Getting outside much more often. I so seldom left my house at the start of 2013 that I almost completely missed wearing any Winter clothing for that really cold spell. My dog has become so accustomed to my presence that she will inconsolably weep until she gets in for a cuddle each day. Her dinner time has also become increasingly early as she gets more and more greedy. So for January, I have been going lots more places. My favourite of which is the local park. Word of warning, be aware of your fellow walkers and be careful who you go behind on the path. I learnt this the hard way. I was following behind an older gentleman, dandering along with a limp. He started throwing a seemingly unending stream of bread crumbs on the paths around him. The birds were quite pleased about this. So much so that I was completely surrounded by swooping and whooping birds as they ate the crumbs littering the path. Didn't help with my fear of birds. For unseen reasons, the old man decided to race me back to our cars, limping along as quick as he could. He then raced out before me and gave me a really sly grin. Typical! 

2. Take up new hobbies, or continue your most-loved ones. Here I was going to blog about the amazing new self-defence class I signed up for, and my first lesson would have been last night. Unfortunately there wasn't enough demand so they cancelled the class. There goes my dream of being able to see off scary yobs while 'Kung Fu Fighting' plays merrily in the background. So I am now thinking of new hobbies I can have. Currently I am reading A LOT of books really quickly and I don't know what is going on but I seem to be starting a new one every other day. I also seem to have to cut up boxes a lot lately in the search for the perfect dog bed for my rather strange canine friend. If she would stop eating her box while she lies in it then we wouldn't be having this conversation. 

3. Pay more attention to the friends you still have. It's very easy when you're feeling ignored and down in the dumps to not really enquire after your friends. Especially if they seem to have had an easy ride and gotten things a lot more easier than you have. However, my new attitude dictates that if I want people to care about me more, I need to care about them more. So if anyone wants to do something fun or have a nice chat, just let me know. I can't turn my back on the sort of people who I have been through the most random, fun and incredible times of my life with. Puppet shows and being a human caterpillar, and cardboard horse and summer holidays. Just to name a few...

 I'm going to my Country Music Festival in March so I am really looking forward to a nice trip to London with one of my best friends and my boyfriend. Hopefully that will be one weekend I don't have to listen to the comic stylings of Saturday night TV presenters as my only main company. 

Hi! I'm in my box. Do you enjoy seeing my underbelly?

Coo-ee, it's me, Detective Dog

4. Stop taking so many pictures of my dog. Or maybe, take more? Here's a few pictures I've taken recently. Too many, or not enough? 

The Decision Is Yours.

I'm in a new box! Yes! 

"You cannot be serious?" I'm Dog McEnwoof

The 50th blog post/ The three things I really don't want to hear today

Here we are, readers. We've made it to the big 5-0. Not age, I'm not quite there yet. But my 50th blog post. In some ways this seems like a lot, but in others it  doesn't seem like much at all. Considering where I was when I wrote that very first post and where I am now, many things have changed. When I started the blog I was full of direction, inspiration, joie de vivre- surrounded by friends and family and full of excitement for all my travel adventures to come. Now, I am somewhat directionless and lonesome, being hundreds of miles from most of my friends and family, without a real job and without much changing. You've probably noticed the decline of the frequency of my blog posts. This is a sorry shame. I always thought when things picked up a bit I'd start writing again...but things never really picked up.

Now, that's not to say that some wonderful things haven't happened from the start until now, I've met amazing people, I've seen lots of new things and done lots of new things, I've experienced a lot of things both fantastically great and horrifyingly low. And I've grown (not just around the waist). But I can't help missing the optimistic girl at the start. And I'm determined to get her back somehow.

Anyway, I've made it to 50...and here's to another inspired 50 posts of embarassing dancing, and strange encounters, and new places and a bit of sunshine (hopefully).

The point of today's post is to highlight a few things that I, and probably a lot of you too, don't want to hear these days.

1) The Guardian did a survey of all current graduates looking for jobs. The results were as I expected. We're all going through the same depressing farce. 25% of us have lost out on jobs we want, due to 'lack of experience.' This brings me to the first thing I don't want to hear. Every single job, in the hundreds I've applied for in the last 6 months, has ended with the same inevitable result. I've passed tests (even numerical), I've submitted CVs. I've gone to interviews. The final feedback is always the same: "We liked you but another candidate was more experienced for the role."
This really frustrates me. These are jobs advertised as first job positions. Jobs geared towards graduates. Job advertisments which say 'No previous experience required. Full training provided.'. The sheer magnitude of applications mean, however, that they are able to add further boundaries because somewhat over experienced people are going for these jobs as well, due to a never diminishing over-subscribed job market. I get it, honestly I do. I accept the fact that others are more qualified than me and deserve the job more. What I don't get is how you go about getting the experience needed. Because nobody hires without experience!!! 'Internships?' I hear you ask. Alas, according to the Guardian, another sizeable chunk of us found that unless you know somebody in the business, or have a relative working there, you aren't going to get in. Brilliant.


2) The second thing I really don't want to hear is "The orchid's dead, move on." Since a very kind friend gifted me with some beautiful purple orchids at a dinner party in March, I've been caring for them like they are my child. I've been watering them with tepid water (the instructions said TEPID), I been monitoring their moistness (MOIST) to make sure I don't over-water, and I've been moving them from room to room, and climate to climate, to ensure they have variety in their day to day life. And so far, much to my immense surprise, they've survived and they're healthy. I think they've become a social experiment for me. Keeping them alive is proving that I am not incompetent. That I can do something successful. It's a necessary component for my remaining optimism. So the day I hear, "The orchid's dead, move on" will be the day I officially give up. Maybe it's like the rose in Beauty and the Beast. Except I'm less mean (and less furry). If the last petal drops, I'll be stuck this way forever! But does that mean I won't age?? Because I really wouldn't mind that.

3) The third thing I really don't want to hear is 'Looks like snow's on the way again'. I'm a patient woman. That's a fact. If you remember my post last year about our current weather being much colder than other countries at this time of year (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/here-comes-sun.html) I wrote my complaint last year while it was still April, so obviously things had cheered up by this time of the year. It's a week until June. JUNE. This time last year, because I remember it was when my sister was visiting for Eurovision (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/nil-pointsbut-big-love.html) for the last time I saw her before she became a Californian Girl, we were sunbathing. SUNBATHING. In shorts! In England! It was literally high 20s! This year- it isn't even scraping mid-teens. And according to the weather people (not to be mistaken with the Village People http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InBXu-iY7cw- sorry, I have to sing that. Every time. Part of my own personal Constitution.) there could be snow in places in the U.K this weekend?? What??? I've gone so long without sun that my skin has become a dangerously white colour, the equivalent of Voldemort. Not an exaggeration.If I develop a snake's nose, you'll know something a tad more sinister is going on. It's gotten to that point that it usually gets to in mid-Winter where you think "I can't honestly imagine it ever being sunny again." Except that emotion has been continuing for about 8 months now. I haven't gone out without a jacket since mid-September. Wow.

What I saw when I smiled in the mirror this morning

So there you have it, crew. Sorry, that sounded a bit nautical, guess I shouldn't have watched the entire 'In the Navy' music video there
"I'm afraid of waaaater!"

Those are the three things I really don't want to hear today. What do you not want to hear? Do let me know. Unless of course it's "She's posted another blog, oh crud!"

QOTR

Maybe it's because I'm an immigrant...

HELLO WEMBLEY!
I don't know who it was that last shouted that, but needless to say it wasn't me. I'm not performing in Wembley (yet) though I am plenty uncontrollably odd and lovably quirky to be a stand up comedian. Right? right? Well, in saying that, I watched that new show on BBC Three 'The Year of Making Love' and this one girl was a stand up comedian...and she got paid...and she was soooooo unfunny it's not even funny- see what I did there?? So if she can do it, then I sure as heck could take this freakshow on the road ;)

So, you're all probably wondering who I am. Some people know me as Cher. What I mean is, although I never use my name on my blog, you all had probably got to know me quite well through my frequent blog writing whilst (good word that WHILLLLSSSSST) I was abroad and now you're all thinking 'Gee Whiz, she sure doesn't write much anymore, what a pity!' and this is of course assuming you are all cast members of the Brady Bunch with that language...


Well, I am sorry. I have been cowering under a metaphorical rock, waiting for my 2013 to truly begin. The unending application to an unending stream of jobs, waiting in anticipation for the email which undoubtedly reads the equivalent of 'We kind of like you, but you aren't our usual type, so we're going to go for someone who is our normal type but thanks anyway!' Same old, same old- job hunting rejection emails are the same as my teenaged dating rejections I got- not what we normally like but pretty interesting nonetheless. Cool, thanks. That's not to say that there haven't been some highlights in my last two months.

I got my hair cut. At last. So I no longer resemble Mel Gibson as William Wallace. My mother thought I might be able to sell my hair for wigs and it was pretty long so I concurred. As it got snipped off, the hairdresser passed the clippings to my mother who was holding a Tesco bag and collecting. I felt a lot lighter as I left, swinging my bag of hair. Looked it up online, my hair wasn't long enough or in a pony tail. Gutted.

It looks a bit smarter now anyway, and hopefully won't get so in the way of bags, windows and other people's faces anymore.

My animals here at home have become pretty ambivalent. One minute they are lolling all over me, acting rather coquettish, and the next minute they're giving me looks like these.

The dog gave me this charming death glare as we watched Pointless together. I gave an answer she deemed stupid and she turned round and stared at me like this. Priceless. My cat lowered lids and slanted hips might look like a casual 'Come and Pet me' look but it actually meant 'Just Don't.'

So, as you can see, my first two months as a 22 year old have got off to a flying start.

The most annoying thing in the world has happened. I have become an immigrant without realising it. And oh the trouble it is causing me. At the start of February, I finally faced the facts that I wasn't about to get a job after all so I had to bit the bullet and sign on for Job Seekers. Itself a torturous experience in long waiting time, strange looks when you read a Kindle, and staff members asking each other questions that you know the answer to after reading the Web Page one time. But oh no, it was just getting started. After a 45 minute wait, and half a novel, I was finally called to a woman's desk. She said, 'Have you filled in the forms?' 'Yes, I have' I replied, handing it to her.
'Ah, but you haven't filled in the immigration one.'
'What? I'm clearly from here.'
'Were you out of the country?'
'Yes, but only for five months. And I was always still British then.'
'Ah, but you see, if you leave the U.K for more than two weeks, you count as an immigrant.'
All the time I filled in this form, I was thinking in my head 'What?? What?? Seriously, what??' After filling in questions such as 'Have you previously been in the U.K. What dates from and to?' and responding with 'Yes, from 19/12/1990- 05/08/2013' All of my life except the last five months. I then had to be asked questions in person such as 'Were you born in this country?' and having to say, with thinly veiled misery 'Yes.' I literally had the same accent as the woman.
So then she says, 'Have you got I.D. for signing on?' so I present my British Driving Licence. She says, 'Oh, but you're an immigrant. You need to show a passport instead. Can you go home and get it?'
'I have no car.' I reply through gritted teeth.
'Okay, you'll have to come in another time and get it photocopied. We can't process your claim until that happens.'
After another hour of feeling the shame of being an accidental immigrant and an unemployed person, and having to list my qualifications with a tear glinting in my eye, I finally left the office to race home with my father in the car. Since that, he has referred to me as an immigrant in a variety of mean ways, while the ghosts of my past life in a third world country haunt me. Not. I was born 30 miles down the road from the office. To two British parents.
I went back in with my passport, waited another half an hour, finally got it scanned and she said 'I'll send this on for you.'
Got a call yesterday from the claim processing office. 'We need a passport for you.'
'I sent one the other day.'
'We got your driving licence but not your Passport.'
'Well, I did send it.'
'Okay'
*10 minutes later*
'Did you get the inside of your passport scanned?'
'No, she just scanned the information page.'
'We need to see if there are any stamps inside that say you can't live in the U.K or make a claim.'
'There aren't any stamps. I promise. I'm from this country!!!'
'We need to know either way....can you come into the office and get it scanned again?'
'I have no car...I literally can't get in.'
'.....I'll try and process your claim without that info but can't make any promises you'll qualify.'
'Seriously? Ok then.'
'Also, why have you sometimes listed your surname on your forms and sometimes the surname Scullion?'
'What?? I have never used the word Scullion in my life. I literally have no words.'
'Ah, they must have mixed up two different applicants.'

Seriously, Job Centre, seriously??

I'm gonna paraphrase Marina and the Diamonds here 'I'm vulnerable, so vulnerable...I am not an immigrant!' http://youtu.be/S_oMD6-6q5Y

In other news, I might become an immigrant just to justify the amount of hassle it apparently takes for me to get £50 a fortnight. Also, I can guarantee you this: if I get a job, it'll be through my own perseverance, not from their unexistant 'support and guidance'.

Also, I'm writing articles for a website now, feel free to check out my work on www.articlereviewwriters.com! 

And the Hoff said 'Hey!'

I know it doesn't look like it, but it is snowing

As the sun sets over the Riehen countryside, I finally get around to breathing long enough to write a new blog entry. I've been such a complete eejit lately for not keeping all of you up to date but I've just been all over the show lately, working some jobs, meeting up with some people, listening to a lot of Brad Paisley, seeing snow, mourning the lack of snow, riding a ferris wheel, going to a Halloween party, reading news live on air, reading my books for next week's book meeting, going to class, putting off doing actual studious things...so, you get the gist, I've been anywhere but in my room at my computer in the frame of mind for writing.

Ten green bottles, sitting on the wall!

I'm scared, truth be told, to stop and think too long. If I stop and think about, say, the fact that I have only 6 more weeks to find a job before I go home for Christmas, and if I don't find a job by then I might not be back here after the holidays, then I start to feel a little bit nauseous. The other night after class, I went to the really wacky fountain near Bankverein in the city centre and I got out my notebook and pen, and some pensieve music on my ipod, and my Fanta zero (I did NOT know there was a zero kind!!) and I wrote some lists. I wrote a pro and con list for staying here v moving home, and let me tell you, it was close.

And yesterday afternoon, when I stopped for a rest in rushing around, and I found myself feeling a little bit bummed out about some things, I started to think 'Do I want to stay here? What is there here for me?' and then the conflicting rush of confused emotions came barrelling at me all at once. There are so many wonderful, interesting, exhilirating things I have found here, or done, or people I have met and I can't imagine that it'd be any way easy for me just to walk away, no regrets, when there's so much more I want to experience and some people I really want to continue to get to know and live some time with...but at the same time, I'm so lonely sometimes even when surrounded by people, and those friends and family I have left at home in Ireland and in England who truly know me and love me anyway, make me really wish I was at home with them, laughing and talking and sharing these years together and it's such a confusing mix of thoughts that I find myself short of breath, on the verge of a panic attack.

The stupid thing is that I really want someone here to say 'Don't go! Everything will work out, but don't deprive me of your wonderful, wacky company!' or else someone at home to say 'You will always have a place here with us, you're welcome to come home, there's jobs you can get here, where you belong.' But I know this is ultimately my decision, and someone else can't choose for me, but it's times like these I really want to be able to see ahead in my future just a little bit, so I know where I'm meant to be in a few years, just so I might have some idea how I could get there.

But, hey, these moments are when I stop to think. So I'm putting off thinking as much as possible.

View from Ferris Wheel

I recorded an event which happened last Saturday night, which can only be retold in a dramatic manner, because it was a dramatic happening, so here we go, as I wrote it down word for word:

Getting tram home on Saturday night. Mid journey, while the snow magically drifted around, a group of 8 multilingual 20 something men dressed as the cast of Baywatch (Yes, the show from the 90s where everybody was really good at running really slowly). They cohorted merrily for the duration of the journey, clasping their blow up life rafts, singing the theme song in a glorious array of harmony and excellent musical timbre, with their baywatch shorts leaving their legs exposed to the minus degree cold. In order to get off the tram, they had to pass me. There I was, surrounded by them, regretting my choice of seat next to the door. One taps me on the shoulder and says 'Lustig, eg?' (Funny, eh?) so I laugh and say 'Baywatch. Cool.' They chortle so I ask 'Who is Pamela?' The American guy with the long blonde wig flicks his hair and says 'Me, of course.' One member of the group puts his leg up on the window ledge in front of me, impressing me with his surprising dexterity, slapping his thigh in a true 'Undercarriage' Bridesmaid moment. They gesture to the handsome youngster at the front of the group and say 'He's Denny. He was the only one with chest hair so he had to be.' I laughed. They proceed to say 'He doesn't look like it, but, weird things happen.'
The Denny impersonator grins at me and says 'Add me on Facebook, girl'. They all proceed to whoop. Then I realise, this is also my stop. I proceed to stand up amongst them. They all cheer and think, one or perhaps all, have pulled. The last I see of them, as we gracefully dismount the tram together, Pamela is gyrating in front of a taxi and the rest are slow running in true Bay watch fashion into the night club. It was beautiful. All this while I am wearing a woolly hat and Heidi plaits, no make up and a Bambi jumper. (I didn't think it was that embarassing a jumper, but someone reacted to me wearing it the other day by exclaiming 'Oh for Goodness (toned down by me) sake!'

You can almost tell I actually had company! Not my jacket ;)

While Babysitting, I got asked by the children, 'What age are you?' '21' I replied. *Look of shock* 'You look about 15 or 16!' Wow, thanks. Suddenly I don't mind looking young. This hasn't happened to me since I was 15 or 16- even as a 16 year old, the bus driver wouldn't believe I was 15 and I never got that discounted ticket. Tragic.

Beautiful bridge, stunning river, amazing cathedral...and a large flume.

 Also in my life, I made it to a bit of the Herbst Messe. What I think, the trams are too busy, the people are too rowdy, the fair is serious 90s UK chav-chique, it's very over-priced. In saying that, I was glad I went down to it.  I enjoyed my ein bisschen teyer (a little expensive) trip on the ferris wheel, it was cool to see the sights from up high and a good time to be on a date to get out of paying for everything yourself! Also, we went to a Cornish Pasty stand (of all things???) and I had a rather unconventional (but yummy) sausage and mushroom one. Other than that, I stuck to other places like the pub and Starbucks (for the beverages portion of the day. It was too f-f-f freezing for much outdoor wandering!

He's lying down

By Tuesday, the snow had faded into a distant memory, leaving only a few lonely snowmen who still had some work to do. Like this poor fellow here, discovered while in the play park. But here he stands, evidence that just two days earlier, there was a lot of snow! If you were lucky enough not to live city centre anyway...where there was no snow.

On Wednesday, I made my way to St Gallen for a Halloween party at night time. It was a long ass train journey as usual, but I enjoyed the party and it was good to see people I hadn't seen in a while. There was MUCH more snow there!!! It was in like piles, all scooped up, to clear the roads. That felt like the real deal a bit more.

I made my real debut on the radio, and was told I had a certain 'bounce' to me that would serve me very well in radio journalism. Long may it continue. Now, if I would only hurry up and do my research for the next show in three days time aaaargh! I'm majorly lazy today...oh well, there's always tomorrow to move my bum.

I returned this morning from babysitting in France, had a yummy fresh almond croissant for breakfast, and cuddled a very cute dog while I watched Kristen Stewart give probably her least constipated performance in 'Snow White and the Huntsman.' Charlize Theron, you legend, you stole the show on this one! 

We'll meet again soon, I hope...Unless I lose my mind and try to end it all by jumping off the bridge into the Rhine. It would be a pretty place to end, I guess!