Okay so here is the dilemma: I have almost been working at Kew for a year now and how far have I got with my "paid byline by September!"...absolutely no where! I have more chance of successfully locating and milking a cow within the next five months than working for a magazine any time soon.
So maybe it's a sign that my beloved diary (this one was started around the time I started at Kew) is about 7 pages away from completion? Maybe the literary gods are stealing my blank pages and urging me to go forth and scribble- for money obviously, I'm not three years-old.
Another sign is there is now a vacancy for a supervisor at the shop, which I will apply for (I could do it standing on my head, one eye closed whilst reciting Chaucer), but once again where will my journalism degree come in handy? The chances of me serving Louise Court from Cosmo or Victoria White from Company are once again in the region of "it would be easier to feel up a farmyard animal...".
So there we have it. Do or die? Live or let lie? Shop assistant for life of feature write?
I know what my heart and head is saying...
Tuesday 19 April 2011
Tuesday 12 April 2011
Dedication to a friend
*This was written a few days/ weeks ago and it acts as an explanation for the lack of blogs recently.
If I could describe my life right now in terms of food it would resemble a liver stroganoff.
Firstly the smell of liver makes me sick, so much that I could hardly stand to be in the same room while it was being cooked. This is similar to the feeling life has now presented, sickness through fear and sickness through realisation.
Secondly the sauce in a liver stroganoff coats the rice with its heaving taste, to the point where every grain is blanketed with the same flavour. This is similar to the emotions that we are all now feeling; uselessness, empathy and waiting. Just waiting.
Thirdly my life resembles the eating of the meal itself. Someone has slaved away over the cooker to bring you a home comfort and make sure you are fit and healthy. And although you do not like the meal, you eat it, swallowing every mouthful and being grateful for the affection. This is similar to the knowledge that everyone has to make sacrifices in life, however little or small. And it makes you appreciate your ability to be able to make these choices.
For some people don't have these choices and some people have to deal with the hand that has been dealt. Unfortunately these people tend to go unnoticed and it is easy to forget how hard life can be and how it varies from person to person, and day to day.
These people are incredible. And prove why every life, no matter how long or short, is the most valuable memory a person can have.
That is why life is like a liver stroganoff. It smells bad, it looks bad, it tastes foul and everything about it makes me want to curl up. But at the end of the day there are a million other meals out there to be eaten and there have been a million wonderful meals that have already been eaten and that will never be forgotten.
So I propose a toast to the most boob-groping meal of them all, sometimes we suffered the pain (mostly from your sense of humour) but at the end of the day we all stood there and ate it with you.
We'll never stop believing. We know you never did.
Love all of us. xx
P.s If I catch you perving on us girls in the shower you'll be in serious trouble!
If I could describe my life right now in terms of food it would resemble a liver stroganoff.
Firstly the smell of liver makes me sick, so much that I could hardly stand to be in the same room while it was being cooked. This is similar to the feeling life has now presented, sickness through fear and sickness through realisation.
Secondly the sauce in a liver stroganoff coats the rice with its heaving taste, to the point where every grain is blanketed with the same flavour. This is similar to the emotions that we are all now feeling; uselessness, empathy and waiting. Just waiting.
Thirdly my life resembles the eating of the meal itself. Someone has slaved away over the cooker to bring you a home comfort and make sure you are fit and healthy. And although you do not like the meal, you eat it, swallowing every mouthful and being grateful for the affection. This is similar to the knowledge that everyone has to make sacrifices in life, however little or small. And it makes you appreciate your ability to be able to make these choices.
For some people don't have these choices and some people have to deal with the hand that has been dealt. Unfortunately these people tend to go unnoticed and it is easy to forget how hard life can be and how it varies from person to person, and day to day.
These people are incredible. And prove why every life, no matter how long or short, is the most valuable memory a person can have.
That is why life is like a liver stroganoff. It smells bad, it looks bad, it tastes foul and everything about it makes me want to curl up. But at the end of the day there are a million other meals out there to be eaten and there have been a million wonderful meals that have already been eaten and that will never be forgotten.
So I propose a toast to the most boob-groping meal of them all, sometimes we suffered the pain (mostly from your sense of humour) but at the end of the day we all stood there and ate it with you.
We'll never stop believing. We know you never did.
Love all of us. xx
P.s If I catch you perving on us girls in the shower you'll be in serious trouble!
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