French Connection

It isn't over. For everyone else it is but obviously not for me.

I get missed calls from T when in Manhattan which he refuses to explain once he is sober...Go figure!
Then, like a scene from a bad movie, J has moved there. Nowhere is safe I tell you!I just want to know one thing ... if he had known I was coming would it have made a difference? and more importantly would I have wanted it too now?

I already know the answer ... it would have made no difference to him. Even less so than last year so at least I found out after I got home instead of when I was there ... minimises possible drama and trauma.

I heart NY!

In other news... I'm back at aforementioned job. Yes, you know the one that inspired me to post all those things before and which is probably the reason why I'm back posting again? Nicotine stained walls are hardly the things of inspiration but at least they provide a motivating boredom!

***

Somewhere, far off! Too late! never, perchance!

For I do not know where you flee, nor you where I am going,

O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

Baudelaire

British Gas made an error...

You will be reimbursed. According to my fortune cookie, and there I was thinking some epiphany about my love life would hit me.

**

He said I can be happy!
A memory of a good looking french boy 20 metres from the Eiffel Tower
What? That ugly thing?
A knowing smile and laugh ... you are not usual
And he is gone asleep.
Good? Bad? What did he mean?



xx

Friday Feeling?

Goodbye to this week's temp placement; it is Friday afternoon!

I thought I would finish up the week by posting here seeing as I was able to use this office to post during the week, and post more than I had to date! However I have a very short time to do so. After a fairly quiet week I spent all day photocopying an entire rainforest and glued to the phone... I even worked through lunch so I'm starving!

After all my complaints, I say goodbye to this office and the people I met here fondly. On the whole it is possibly the friendliest office I have encountered and they all seemed genuine in their goodbyes and emails.. it was only a week! I finally felt like I knew what I was doing today after my induction, and only, week. There is a lot to be said for the confidence that comes with holding a regular job. You know who everyone is, what you are meant to do, it's comfortable but I must remind myself that like everything, I grow bored and frustrated very quickly with that feeling and that is why temping works better for me right now. My goodbyes would probably not be so fond if I was saying them in another few weeks! I don't want to commit to any job when I can't even commit to anything in my mind.

I have enjoyed writing these past few days, even though when I read over my posts I dont find them satisfactory. It's as though through writing I am facing the most truthful mirror I ever have. When I read over a post it's like I am taking a long, hard look at myself; what did I mean here? What was I trying to say? Feelings and thoughts are captured like in a photograph, they don't dissolve and ebb away when we fall asleep if we have written them down.. Sometimes you really have to discipline yourself to make yourself write, which is what I truly understood this week when I promised myself I would update more frequently, making a commentary of such on the week and my thoughts around it. It's like I almost get shy with myself and I feel awkward reading my own thoughts. But the process of writing I have found to be therapeutic when you get into the habit of it.

I am , however, pleased I have finally entered the blog world albeit privately. I have admired many blogs for a while now and the style of writing that comes with them. I have never been able to keep a diary in my life and wouldn't call myself a born writer but the feeling to write has been growing inside me for such a time now I'm happy to have this medium to do it. I found a quotation today from the wonderful Anais Nin:

" We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection"

It sums up what I have been feeling and trying to say so beautifully! So this is for all you bloggers, writers and aspiring writers everywhere. Keep writing and enjoy your weekend! (Don't you love how Anais is raising her glass to us!!)
xx

It's punk!

For the past fortnight my star signs hae gone on and on about the amount of great change in my life and the dramatic events of the coming weeks. So far the biggest change I can see is being convinced to change my foundation colour by the shop girl when I went to restock. Now, much like my cash card, it is lost! I used it once and it never left the house... but it is hiding. I feel it was too much change too soon.

Once I have dealt with said cash-flow problem and makeup I believe balance and order can be restored to my life and I will be closer to finding zen. Near impossible in this office let me tell you.

***

I watched Science of Sleep last night with Gael García Bernal (Motorcycle Diaries) and Charlotte Gainsbourg (daughter of Serge). I really enjoyed it actually despite the Mama's cries of "I don't get it!" But I believe that was kind of the whole point.
Take it at face value (which they probably don't want you to) and you can just really enjoy the whole concept and idea. It's also very attractive visually. Surreal and mythical looking effects but still simplistic and childish, much like our dreams. Surrealism and naturalism are mixed continuously and the definitions between the two get more and more blurred as the film progresses. It is more a concept than a story but I liked it a lot and at times could even relate to it. Much like Goldy's other film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind it is quirky but very accessible and plays upon the power of our minds (and in this case, dreams) to create alternate worlds and subsequently, alter our own. The confusion between what Stéphane (Bernal) dreamt or lived by the film's close heightens the tension between him and Stéphanie (Gainsbourg), his neighbour that he repeatedly declares to love. The art direction was fun and I read online that it is described as a playful. fantasy romance. I suppose that's rather accurate but it makes me think of something more rom-com, than surreal and borderline insane :)

Also props to Guy and his punk jacket. I'm also having trouble deciding how hot I find Gael García Bernal ... I thought I loved him after the motorcycle diaries but his too small burgundy suit in this may have had a reverse effect. His features are so defined and delicate they are almost feminine but he is still incredibly attractive. Hot is another question!

Back to work...

Hungry and Irritated

You know what! Forget their admirable work. It really isn’t THAT admirable

Screw them and their treggings!! Some of them really are intent on patronising me everytime they get bored on their tea break. Who takes 10 minutes to explain in loud, you are much more stupid than me tones that the big block of polystyrene that fell of a biro pen must be kept on the pen at all times .. the PA thats who (see previous post regarding early 90s wardrobe revivals) It is my job to ensure that the polystyrene always remains firmly on the pen in case it goes walkies from the guest book. The polystyrene cube on top of a biro was the brainchild of the PA. Not that I don’t have 500 more biros behind the desk. People get really bitchy in offices when it comes to stationary.

It has been one of those annoying days - I have misplaced my cash card and ‘my ring’ has broken! I don’t know how I have had it for 5 years and I never take it off… it has sentimental value more than anything and I looked down to notice it still stays safe on my hand but there is a big crack in the back. It separated clean in two!

I also had a really morbid dream the other night that I went into labour even though I hadn’t realised I was or looked pregnant! I had to go to a little medical room in a hotel and then my baby was born stillborn! I called it Charlie and I willed his little blue body to breathe …. No idea what that says about my sub conscious.

Oh and it’s only my first (well second) day here. I guess being back to temping after my break is my thud back to reality. Every time that phone rings I grit my teeth… and since writing that it has rang 100000 times more. I’m feeding my frustration with Subway, the king of sandwiches! Not really, this is my second subway ever. I don’t understand the concept but I shall affectionately refer to my sandwich as the suicide sub. Once named by a subway employee who refused to charge me full price as apparently jalapenos, black pepper, sweet chilli sauce and chicken is a lethal combination and the equivalent of suicide. Go figure.

Brief Encounter

Posting from work...

So where to begin! I keep intending to leave a post on my many train journeys to Dublin, documenting so to speak the different people I see and meet. I have always been fascinated by the intimacy of trains. I think I even embarrassingly wrote a short story for the school magazine when I was 11 called 'Carriage 32' ....I did not then realise how accurate my fictional observations could be. From movies, to a desire to travel the Orient Express and fascination at places such as Grand Central station when I have seen them, I seem to have created quite a romantic notion of the railway world which is probably why I sit on the most unromantic train in the world and eavesdrop!

So far I have managed to make my train journeys fairly interesting with the different characters that drop in and out of my life at the weekend on them. I think the first eventful train journey was my first one home. I can only describe it as Miss Tery on the edge. Having danced all day and trying to mentally prepare myself for another Monday in the hell that was my old job, I meet my boss on the train. I have to sit with my boss. My boss starts quizzing me on my work schedule for the week and my life in general. Boss falls asleep, I hit the bar cart for something stronger than my bottled water. 2 hours later and a few train stops along the way I am staggering back to my seat. My 'just one to relax me' turned into about 5 ... I blame my new friends the barman and train manager ... I think his name was Steve. I also blame my new best friend Roger who is catching a plane from Belfast to Atlanta to spend Thanksgiving. I meet Roger's wife, Roger videotapes me and some old man for his folks back home, we talk about sweet potato and how at heart "I'm a Southern girl baby!" This concludes with Roger walking me back to my seat, pretending we are old friends (although at this stage I believe we are) and giving me a glowing review to my boss. Not that it matters, but to insular Northern Ireland folk it makes an impression, Roger is a 6''2 African American with a very strong accent and an Atlanta baseball cap... I'm not sure she buys it. I have been trying to blank this journey from my memory ever since, much like the hours that followed it.

Last night I had to endure a VERY packed train and a lot of people whose enthusiasm for the bar cart even outweighed mine..nightmare. I felt bad for the old Indian couple sitting opposite me. They just looked so exhausted and were not left alone. I had been talking to the woman in the train station, along with some elderly Dublin woman who seemed intent on telling me to quit ballet (she saw my shoes) and get a more reliable job. The Indian woman looked exotic amid the sea of drab in the concrete station. Her golden bangles, heavily kajal lined eyes and emerald silk stunning but with an air of sadness. She was a long way from home, dealing with a stubborn husband and the drunks on the train, her beauty didn't seem to fit with her surroundings. She had an amazing smile though that warmed her whole face and was really keen on practising her English with us. She probably did not see the sadness I felt.

My train TO Dublin however on Saturday was what really provoked me to getting around to writing this post. I rushed on, just making it by the skin of my teeth carrying 101 things - bottle of wine for my family, copious amounts of dance shoes, toothbrush! After I finished busying myself arranging and rearranging everything around me, I noticed the man across the aisle from me smiling. I smiled back, turned away and took out my book. "So where are you going then?"... please just leave me in peace! One quiet train journey with my book would be perfect thanks! "Dublin and you?"
From this we established I was going for a ballet class, he was going to stay with some friends in Newry and he spoke fluent Russian and was an avid fan of the ballet. So much for reading! He launched himself across the aisle into the seat opposite me and so began an hour long conversation with a man whose name I never learnt. He had travelled to Africa, he was trying to learn Chopin on the piano, and we both loved Shakespeare and the theatre. He seemed to have spent a large portion of his life living in Moscow, Kenya, learning obscure languages but what he actually did I couldn't quite get. He said Belfast was home but his voice and heavily weathered face with that deep crease on the brow indicated his life of travel. It was rather intense; I found myself going between polite and fascination as he would mention Africa or ballet both of which have special significance to me. Perhaps this was my biggest mistake but what could I do! I was trapped and at least it was passing the time. I was, however, very glad to know he would not be travelling the full length to Dublin with me. When we arrived in Newry he had to grab all his bags and began reciting his mobile number at me which I was then obliged to put in my phone. Then! Wait for it! The grey bearded OLD(er) man leans forward and kisses me! So I have been thinking maybe I misinterpreted this... maybe reaching forward to kiss young girls on the lips is just common courtesy in Moscow? I'm beginning to think that combined with the phone number that perhaps I was right. Could I really have been picked up on the train by the strangest old man?! For lack of a better word ew!!! I then had to sit the rest of the journey in a state of shock, resisting the urge to go back to the bar cart and avoid the looks of the other train passengers! The shame! So much for these romantic notions of meeting perfect strangers on the trains and starting mad love affairs ... more like perfect creeps! He even cycled past the window on the platform and waved in! He looked unhinged, I turned my head. It was nothing like the picture!
Fortunately I was able to kiss this trauma away following my train journey and be left with nicer memories than this for the weekend!

This has been a long post… my apologies but between lunch-hour, photocopying and general typing it has taken me a few hours to complete and finally post this. I have answered the phone (and broken the phone) about ten times since writing this, but at least it makes me look tres busy and important typing and answering (breaking) the phone from behind the trellis!

This temp work would be alright if you call me!

hello!

So my insomnia appears to not be a passing phase! I thought while I was awake I might as well post on my blog which I have been meaning to do for aaages now.
So - since the last time: not a lot has happened! A lot of my dance committments didnt happen and I just wasted a lot of energy trying to find out from doctors why I feel so bad in order to ensure I dont have a repeat being sick performance in ballet this Sunday.... I'll be sure to tell you how that goes!
Temp work has resumed for 2008. Oh yes! Having taken the maximum amount of 'natural' sleeping pills last night I awoke to very puffy red eyes ... hot. Invariably running late, ran out the door in ten minutes to make the best impression on my new employers!!!!!
Fortunatley arriving in my new office surroundings I realised I didnt have much to worry about in the professional dress code stakes. I won't bitch honestly (ha...) but well what use is the blog if I can't vent?
The people are all very lovely and welcoming (which is helpful but for 6 days work not that crucial) but seriously some of the style I was seeing... I didn't even think such clothes were still in exsistence! They must have been early 90s wardrobe revivals. Por ejemplo...
Meet the 'Chief Executive's P.A' - a high powered job, lots of pressure and intensely busy. She wheels a cart of toilet rolls through the office guldering a 'Hello!' to me as she passes. Are they.... leggings?! Leggings or trousers?! A debate I continued for the rest of the day.. whatever they were, they were a rather distinct shade of mid brown with an oh so pretty pattern of cream flowers. And! Just to be sure we are matching, a slightly too tight brown polo neck and cream gilet. At one point, post toilet roll excursions brown flowery treggings sat for a break in the middle of the office stair case. Mind you, Mr. Chief Exectuive himself was wearing a navy polyester suit.
I won't continue ... I met over 20 colleages so you can use your imagination. The best dressed was possibly the cleaning woman who arrived to work with the most bling and makeup I have ever seen under her overalls ... now that is personal style! Monday poses a slight wardrobe dilemma however ... try and find some Cat boots and stonewash denim?? Im not sure I ever owned either never mind treggings!
The offices are pretty dingy and run down which is a pity because the work this company does is admirable and quite important in Belfast. However, it would appear they are very reliant on a lot of funding and grants and their working conditions clearly suffer as a result. The only way I can think to describe it was like the inner bowels of an old church vestry or something. Walls painted a charming shade of nicotine yellow with an uplifting cloudy, probably raining, sky blue in the 'staff room'. A garden trellice seperates my reception area (a desk) from the office (some more desks) and a blinking flourescent tube, which seems to be so old its more of a sepia tone really, provides our only light source for 8 hours.
Despite all my apparent cynicism I'm glad to have a job for next week... more experience or something... ok and basically money I wasn't expecting and could do with!

I'm feeling tired now I hope its a sign of sleep! I promise to nobody in particular to post after Dublin.

xx