Whoops

Oh, bloody hell. That 'Karina' thing happened again.

Pet hate of the day

People who use more than 3 dots in an ellipse...

Karina

Being upset

I am upset that when I update this very blog via the medium of email, I keep forgetting to delete my name that automatically appears at the bottom. This is almost as annoying as when people insist upon putting their name at the end of a text, despite knowing that I know their number. Please forgive me.

Magazines

Having read lots of magazines, I have now concluded that they are all shit. What I actually need to do is write a magazine containing only articles that interest me. It wouldn't make much money, but that's not the be all and end all, is it?

Karina

Assignment 1

Oh, the joys of shift work. I suspect that there are not many jobs in which one can work on an assignment whilst at work. Perhaps I should be thanking my lucky stars? Anyhoo, here is part of it. The brief was to write about an event, fête, fair, place of historical interest etc, observe people's behaviour, then pen 300-500 words about it. Here is my offering:

The generously sized school hall has the ambience of a chicken coop. The smell of crowd-induced sweat hangs in the air, and the shrill sound of spoilt children almost pierces the eardrums. Teachers, forced to raise money for the school fund, are standing behind various stalls, attempting to sell overcooked cakes and handmade toilet roll covers, whilst ensuring that pseudo-contented smiles remain fixed on their faces throughout. The stall with the longest queue is, coincidentally, the one that houses boxes and boxes of pre-packaged sweets, complete with E numbers galore. Children are behaving like wild animals: pushing, biting, screaming, in an effort to gain their fix.
 
Parents are making regular bids for freedom, and you can see hope light in their eyes as they reach the door, only to be pulled back by a tiny hand attached to a chocolate fuelled child, who wants more, more, more. The bouncy castle in the playground has seen better days, and parents are surrounding it, struggling to remove shoes from over-excited children, and then battling to replace them when the allotted bouncing time is over. Bribery appears to be the only hope of escape, and the promises of a take-away tea or a longer visit to the school fete next term mingle amongst the screams of the frustrated.
 
I wonder whether perhaps I will re-visit next term, and hope that my usually well-behaved children are selfless enough to accept that five minutes at such an event is, in fact, more than enough. I recall the occasions when I have been relieved that I am working, and thus could not attend, then the ensuing guilt that I felt relief about not attending an event so desired by my offspring. I would do almost anything to put smiles upon their faces, but the school fete is pushing the limits of my patience, and just a tiny step too far.

Susan from That's Life magazine has kindly suggested the following:

Thanks so much for your email - and what a tricky situation you are in! You obviously feel caught between wanting to tell your neighbour to back off, and wanting to maintain the friendship and the support system you've built up between you.

 

Like you, I don't think the answer is simply to laugh the whole thing off and pretend it's not happening. That's possibly the right way forward when it comes to your neighbour's flirty behaviour - but she is also criticising your husband, and that's very serious indeed. So while what she's doing may be entirely innocent - just an attempt to bring you closer as friends rather than as lovers - I do think you ought to challenge it.

 

How can you challenge? You say you don't want to offend your neighbour - but I think that in an attempt not to offend, you may be acting too softly softly. Especially in Britain where we are encouraged not to let our feelings show,  we can tend to hide our emotions much too much - so that people never reaslise  we object to something that's happening. When others say or do outrageous things we may feel uncomfortable or irritated, but we smile and nod - in an attempt to hide the irritation - and then our smiles and nods give the unhelpful message that we don't mind what's happening and don't want it to stop. 

 

The upside of all this, though, is that because Brits don't normally cause a fuss, it will only take a slight objection on your part for your neighbour to get the message. Here are some examples of gentle but firm messages that you don't like what's happening - maybe you can think of more for yourself. 

 

-         flinch next time she grabs you

-         frown and say 'that seems too personal to me' next time she offers to tumble dry your laundry

-         shake your head and say 'I love my husband very much and he's not a ne'er do well' next time she criticises him 

 

You won't need to throw a temper tantrum or get upset to make your point. You probably won't even need to say very much. A clear body language sign that you are not happy (frown, flinch, shaking your head, wrinkling your nose, grimacing) will almost certainly make your neighbour realise she needs to back off . 

 

If she doesn't realise, of course, then you need to say it more clearly - sit down and have a heart to heart. But I think you're very far from that point - if you act immediately, I think you can nip things in the bud. So start today, and hope she gets the message!

 

Hugs

 

Susan

Oh, Susan, if only it were that easy. I am tempted to reply with the following:

Dear Susan, 

Thank you for your reply and advice. However, I fear it is too late, for last Tuesday my neighbour invited me over for a seasonal coffee, then leant in for a kiss. 

Regards. 

The rat race

I am so utterly frustrated with my job, that I have been planning my escape for a vast amount of the 8.5 hours of my shift. Plan A is to make my money writing porn, how difficult can it be? A few choice adjectives, a variety of verbs and I'll be halfway there. I have calculated that I would only have to write (and have published) 20 short, erotic stories a month to bring in a decent income. Super. Alternatively, I could just look for a different job, whilst still focusing on my dream. I can do it. I will make it. Will I?

PS. I didn't see The Gimp today, however, I did happen upon a variety of massive cocks. And not the erotic type.

Day one...

£5,000,000... that's all I need. A rather modest sum of money, I believe. That's all I require to remove myself from the increasingly frustrating dictatorship of my current employment. All I have ever wanted to do is write; from a rather naive eight-year-old who predicted a life of writing birthday card poetry, to the unpublished novel-writing thirty-one-year old that I am today, it has always been a dream. I am bizarrely proud of 'We Are Disturbed', as it made it to the heady heights of Waterstones' shelves, yet it didn't sell too well; the vision of the pulverised, unsold copies are enough to make me cringe. That's enough for now; it's 2am, and although I have so much more to say, it's nothing that can't wait until the morning.