Itchy Feet.....

Not itchy feet as in the athletes foot kinda sense but itchy feet in that i havent been to a different continent in about a year and im getting increasingly restless. What I wouldnt give to feel that stifling heat on my face, to feel the stares of the locals by being the only honky in the village, to feel that sense of adrenaline in not knowing what's going to happen to you in the next five minutes.........sigh.

This time last year I was dusting off my backpack and getting ready to head East. Trying to pack economically and fit in a bumper pack of hand sanitiser and a supply of toiletries that would keep Boots stocked for a month was not easy, but it was joyful.

It was the heading off into the unknown, the excitement of not knowing what exactly would happen, the opportunity to discover different cultures and the chance to discover things about oneself along the way. Oh Lord how I yearn for such an opportunity again. I mean Im not asking for much, a month would do. Peru maybe, or Chile. Austrailia or Africa.....some place that involves a long haul flight and atleast five in flight movie opportunities.

Every trip changes your perception of life a bit. People who have come back from travelling always bore their friends about the ah.mhaz.ing time that they've had, be it the time they were in Brazil or Argentina or Paraguay or Cuba or Thailand or Vietnam or Laos or Abu Dhabi or the Bahamas or the United States.....Im glad Im not one of those people.....but you do feel the need to share the experience with folks who make the mistake of giving you a chance to tell your tales.

My current passport expires in 2013 and I want to fill it's pages with as much stamps as possible before it expires.....realistically that's not going to happen this year but perhaps in the next two years....anything could happen.

I need a holiday. I need an adventure. I need the smell of another culture invading my nostrils. I can feel myself getting increasingly flighty and I need to dust off my left over bottles of suncream and to smell like coconuts. I need to leave behind any responsiblity and evade anybody depending on me to conform to normality. I want to paddle in water that is actually tepid. I want to play "guess the meat". I want to get intoxicated on rum and pass out on a hammock......These things just arent achievable in Ireland.

I guess I really am a traveller at heart.

Moving On......

So, this is my last night in the convent.
I am not leaving the sisterhood, I was merely an honourary sister I suppose(cept without having to do the whole religion/chastity thang). I have been living here since last October and am getting kicked out.
Well it's not that dramatic (they need the room), but effectively i shall be homeless.
So both my esteemed chum and I are both now without abodes. Though I will get to sleep in an actually bed as apposed to a couch, which mo lady seems to have come quiet attached to (see previous blogpost!).

So nine months have gone by and boy have things changed. From bad to rock bottom to pretty damn good, the only blip being my soon to be homelessness.But i imagine it will give me a sense of freedom and set my spirit free to wander.....right?!hmmmm....do they allow people to pitch a tent in the park these days?

What a difference 9 months can make. Generally of course after 9 months many people get landed with a sprog.....lousy.
For me, the past 9 months have been spent finally achieving something that I have wanted for years now, and of course becoming myself again.

Even through poverty and homelessness my compadre seems cheery at her plight and still optimistic and loving her new city which I think is pretty damn inspirational. (Also, send me on your address you fool so I can send you some rice, dried fruit or a carrot or something).

So things have changed for the both of us in the past 9 months. Both of us have gone 9 months without getting a baby at the end, huzzah! We are both in new cities that we enjoy discovering/getting lost in (Ahem, you may never diss me about getting lost again smellyhead).

Things didnt look so rosy 9 months ago......I was a shell of my former self and my amigo was getting forced out of Canada. But we found each other again and through laughter, cinema drinking, talking about Daly beind her back, drinking, licking, drunk diarying.....did I mention drinking, we dug ourselves back up again.

And now, the next 9 months are full of opportunites and new adventures. I am starting back in college again which will make my heart whole once more and mo lady has the whole of london as her muse and will get a job that recognises her talent and rewards her handsomely for her efforts!

So here's to the next stage..........may we remain baby free, careless, maybe not homeless, wine drinking, wise, happy and not too far from each other.

This is being transposed - practice for my administrative dreams. Also because I'm waiting to go into the job centre. I'm at a cafe - its like the ones you see on tv... the dodgy ones but that's perfect because the tea was 90p - which is good for a number of reasons.
- Cheap tea is virtually impossible to find in any city, especially London.
- I am extremely broke - like can't afford tube or phone credit broke.
-This tea is disgusting.
He poured it from a large steel kettle then added hot water - so I didn't have high hopes.
I walked here and gave myself a lot of time since I constantly get lost in London. I think not being able to take the tube will be good for me. I'll finally see what streets lead to where. Also will be good for my hips. AND before (or after more than likely) you throw your eyes to heaven. I DO need to work on this because my stoney brokeness sent me merrily on my way to Iceland and as you can imagine I have chips, onion bhajees, fish fingers and garlic bread in the freezer, I also have two packs of hobnobs (not my favourite biscuits but at two packs for £1 - I had to). So I can't afford any fresh produce...
So anyway outside job centre and I'm hoping they'll be bale to get me a secretarial course or something that way I'll have an extra qualification, it'll help with getting administrative work as well as learning stuff - A great plan don't you think?
Well hopefully they'll be able to help. I've sent off two job applications today and I'm working on one for The Old Vic. I would LOVE to work there. In saying this I would be completely on the breadline but I might get to meet Niamh Cusack and Kevin Spacey... Also I'd be a shoe-in for other jobs if I got this. The trouble is the competition is so fierce here, but at least there are jobs going - Which makes a nice difference from home.
The boys are amazing. OK I never see James but when I do we have a laugh and when I don't I get his room =) (though I love my couch - I prefer it to the room if I'm honest but it is nice just to have a little privacy or feel like I'm not in the way. They NEVER make me feel like I'm in the way - which makes me feel even more guilty.
Seanan is wonderful - he has this brilliant sense of humour - that's completely dry so he says something and I think he's serious and then he reminds me - the wonderful thing about his humour is that deadpan usually has a touch of nastiness or coldness, Seanan doesn't. I haven't read his plays but I imagine this is a great asset as a writer.
And Henry - Maaaaannnn I love Henry. No not in love (just incase the coc is reading this).

Jesus just took a swig of tea its getting worse - Also owner of cafe (presumed owner) is watching me write - he probably thinks he's getting inspected. He would get 10/10 for friendliness and service. 10/10 for hygiene (they were cleaning as I walked in, its immaculate and though dodgy looking on outside an effort has been made with the table outside) and umm well I can't rate the tea.

But Henry is wonderful and really helpful. He gives good job seeker advice, helped with the National application (the one I REALLY wanted, and heard nothing about) and generally we just have nice chats. I really like living with all three (well two it's not like I live with James).
In saying this I really need to not live here. I mean its been 3 months - I feel like a horrible useless sponger ( I am a useless sponger but I do keep the place tidy and do a bit of cleaning). So yeah here I am hoping Jobcentre plus is going to answer my dreams, give me the leg up I need. Oh and one of the 12,000,000,000,000 or so jobs I've applied for might actually reply.
-Le Sigh

- Hope this doesn't come across as depressing. I'm loving London. There are so many free shows and the boys sometimes take me or give me tickets so I've still pretty much seen a show a week since I've been here. =) That's all I need to keep me happy and chirpy!

The Art of a Good Cover Up

Well, would you believe I've been applying for jobs wrong for like... a decade? I think, in all honesty, working in retail/ bar work/ customer service/ general dog's body/treated like crap you don't need to focus on CV - you just note that you've done this before, smile and then you get the job. But with real jobs, officey - paid properly - lots of competition - type - jobs this kind of crap is really important.

Well holy mother of Mike... I had no idea an application letter should be that long, I would never have thought to put in separate headings and in general I don't really like spouting about what I'm good at (unless its drinking or quoting movies, I take pride in my ability in each - note all previous blogs) so the whole thing is uncomfortable...

Anywhoodle I don't suppose this makes for interesting reading but it does clear up the reason I can NEVER get interviews except the one time I had a connection. It also helps that I think I'm ok in person, I mean there's always the chance I'll fuck it up on the day or, of course someone is simply a better candidate but I do think I have some chance if I can just get in the door. Prior to this I could never get in the door- now I need to see if this is going to work.

I hate doing cover letters and CVs, selling yourself and it takes aaaggggeeesss. But I'm still on a couch. I love the boys, really like living with them, but I would like to be able to contribute and also have my own room (more the contributing funnily enough, I feel so guilty and I hate that. I love the couch though, super comfy and I get up early cos there's all busy-ness around me and sun glaring through the blinds, without that I can't help but sleep in). So roll on the job applications and hopefully some interviews.

So hopefully a new page has been turned in the life of reflections and to celebrate I'm going to have a cider and watch a film!

Morto Moments......

So after a fourteen hour day at the office trying to get somebody out of custody and taking an application in front of the High Court at 9pm,one ended up humiliated in Court because the Prosecution are a bunch of sneaky bastardos.....Passport Condition?news to me Judge.....disgrace on the Court....yes Judge......wasting everybody's time....yes Judge,whatever you say Judge as long as the ground opens up and swallows me whole this very minute so that I may join the Devil in a toast to the Judiciary....
One word.
Morto.

Even about an hour later one still has a red face.

So,it got me thinking about embarrassing moments.....I've had a few.
Like a cupla weeks ago when I hadn't realised that my dress had ridden up exposing my nether regions.....morto.
Though I was wearing dark tights at the time so it could have been worse,or it may have just looked like I was very hairy down there.(which Im not btw,just for the record)

Thinking back along the years on other embarrassing moments,my parents have featured heavily. Think back to a time when being merely seen within a half mile of your parents was mortifying!

I would think that having snot on your face without realising is up there with the bad moments......not realising until someone points out that u had something on your face which then you realise is snot and has actually been there for some time. Similarly having something in your teeth without realising until u go home and look in the mirror and realise u had like a whole steak stuck in there.
The flip side of that is when somebody else has a UFO on their face/teeth.Do you pretend it's not there or point it out risking that person's embarrassment. Depending on who it is im all for pretending it's not there.

Then there's my high threshold for repression so as a result I cant remember some of my embarrassing moments,cant remember,wont remember.

So I try to think of my compadres embarrassing moments......which I couldnt possibly divulge of course,as unlike my ability to forget my morto moments, they inevitably remember.

And conveniently anything that I have ever done while drunk has not been embarrassing,but totally cool.....

The moral of the story is, just go drinking til you cant feel morto anymore.

Much Ado About Corsets......

So Daly's new blogpost is about her buying a corset for her burlesque class......

I mused over what to call this blogpost, which of course is inspired by Daly's own blog.....several idea's sprang to mind.....

1. Daly, The Victorian Whoremonger.

2. Coming out of the Corset.

3. The Corset and the Tramp.

Admittedly the first title came to me almost immediately, but in the end I said nay.

In her travels about Glasgow, Daly buys a corset. We can gather from the blogpost that this shop isn't strictly all corsets. I was left intrigued as to what the "rubber and section" entailed.
Did she mean to say "rubber hand section"? If so, the mind boggles at what sort of sadistic sex game involves rubber hands......but whatever you are into eh?
*queue image of Daly in a corset holding a pair of rubber hands*

It all feels very Gothic. And I mean Gothic as in Victorian London, Jekyll and Hyde, Dracula....not Gothic as in too much black eyeliner(which actually was a phase that Daly went through).

At the end of the day corsets are cool, getting naked is cool.....why not combine the two for some happy naked corset time? Throw in some rubber hands and you've made a night out of it.Throw in some chicken wings with a jack daniel sauce and I for one am there.

So go forth Daly and conquer that corset. We support you,much like your corset.

I wonder how hard it would be to make a corset of one's own? How hard could it be? Bit of cardboard, some whale bone, bit of double sided sticky tape.....bob's your corset......right?hmmm, i sense a money making scheme in the works....

The Seven Unknown Wonders of Musings....

how the frig did i miss Daly's blog post and my own partner, reflections recent blog post?

I need to stop working so hard and concentrate on the important things like cyber stalking my friends....

I may as well throw in my tuppence worth,i hate to feel left out of things....this is widely known about me.......im not sure if there is anything that i havent told to my amigos?i knew all of Daly's seven things,and indeed have been paramount in pointing some of the things out to her. i also knew most of reflection's seven,cept for the swimming togs one.....Bahahahahaha!
I also know way more about her that can never actually be shared......

So,here goes......

1. I wanted to be an artist when i was younger caus i thought i was really good at art....(I wasn't).

2. Regretably I avoided wearing bra for about two years when i should have been wearing one caus in my primary school anyone who wore a bra was a lesbian....

3. When i was growing up I always wished that I had been adopted...(still kinda waiting for my real family to come get me).....

4. I didnt have chinese food until I was 17.....(I bet I would have had chinese food with my real family all the time)

5. I used to HATE potatoes and would often pretend to fall asleep at the table so i wouldn't have to eat them.....

6. I let a street dog in Brazil lick me in the face (yes i was drunk.....no i dont have rabies....i think)

7. Red does suit me.....(Suckas).

So there we go, seven truths about me.

Daly and Reflections already know everything else about me, like how I get prettier every day, like how I can always handle my Liquer, like how I've never picked a fight with a scumbag.........right?!