week 2 of the job hunt and the boredom has already set in. this is not helped by the fact that we just got back from amsterdam and i am now suffering from post holiday blues. why is it wrong to want to be on holidays forever? would it get boring?

boredom, of course, is easily cured, right? you just do something, anything, and you're engaged in an activity so you should no longer be bored. at least that's what my parents led me to believe. I have learned over the last few days, however, that tidying and housework will never cure boredom. in fact, i think it's pretty safe to say, i am bored of housework. this is no great revelation, i know, because no-one really likes housework, do they?

but back to the boredom thing, what i find about me, is that i can lack real motivation. for example, for the last two days we have had absolutely stunning weather, the sort that makes you sing out loud and twirl around, and sniff flowers in that deeply satisfied way. and have i gone outside to enjoy this weather? no, i sat on the couch and moped instead. because i suspect, not only about myself but others as well, that when you're bored you prefer to stay bored so that you've got something to whine about. perhaps that's a little bit harsh. but i am trying to have a stern word with myself about the whole issue. i mean, for goodness sake, i am an adult now. surely only children and those lacking in imagination would let themselves get bored!

last night i resolved to fight the problem head on. I have resorted to lists and the rather childish reward system. if i do everything on my list for that day i can have a reward. even as i type this, the child in me is clapping its hands and asking what kind of reward it will get! i've decided to keep it a mystery!

on the job front, sadly there is no update. i did have a job interview for a place that's about 33 miles from here which i'm relieved to say i didn't get, as the thought of commuting that far everyday was making me weep inside. fingers crossed that something will come along soon, as that would be the best, and most lucrative, cure for my boredom.

which way?

well, unemployed kristi has returned. of course she can't help but feel somewhat annoyed at past kristi for her cockiness and her possibly foolhardy decision to walk away from paid employment. it occurred to me yesterday, whilst sitting in a cafe, watching the hoards frivolously spend their money, a luxury that past kristi ripped from my hands with her ridiculous need to not feel stressed at work...where was i? oh, yes, it occurred to me that this could possibly be one of those crossroad thingies that self help gurus go on about. but as i'm not psychic i have no way of knowing if i'm taking the happy road, full of sparkles, adventure, ridiculously uplifting moments, and good fortune, or the sad road, surrounded by daytime tv, cheap stodgy food, and the eventual deadening of my soul. (how's that for melodrama?!) so i sat there, wondering, that if i had a time machine if this would be the point that i would come back to, well not right now obviously, because it's already too late, but you get the drift.

see, the problem is, i have no idea what i'm good at. there are some things i do well, such as baking, and...does saying ridiculously pompous and self-righteous things when i'm drunk count as a skill? probably not. what else? i've been told i have an excellent phone manner. someone once told me that i was funny. i'm still not sure though if they meant it the way i took it. and i'm really good at watching tv. i haven't, as yet, been able to figure out a way to channel that into a career though.

but, despite the slight twang of fear present in my ramblings, i am, well, at least attempting to remain positive. and the calender has a few pleasantries in store for me over the next few weeks, so perhaps i'll just sit back, put on my tv watching hat and enjoy the lack of responsibility!

areet, petal?

i just went back and read all of my past blogs. there is a definite move from hopeful excitement at the beginning to the dull ache of boredom and despair more recently. i have actually been thinking about that over the last week, and how i was determined to show that it's not all mopey bottom lip dragging. i believe i'd planned to show you a picture of some daffodils growing in our garden.

but flowers, and spring, make me think of enid blyton actually. i grew up on a steady diet of the faraway tree, the wishing chair, brer rabbit, amelia jane, mr twiddle, and was always delighted at the pictures and descriptions of english flowers. when the first snowdrops appeared i was overcome with a childish sense of wonder. i'm dead keen to see bluebells, although jeff tells me there hard to come by.

so, snowdrops, and bluebells, and daffodils, and crocuses all mean that it's spring! the weather has been warm enough over the last week to prompt me to leave the house without a coat! i felt very brave and carefree! it also means that you start to see locals in tank tops and shorts, despite the fact that it's still only 12 degrees. there has been, of late, quite a lively debate on the radio about the best time to start wearing shorts. no real consensus has been reached though, which i find a little on the disappointing side, as i like to imagine that there would be a national leg baring day, a harbinger of spring, and warmer times to come!

and most excitedly of all, i have only five days left at my job! it is with a sense of relief and anticipation that i will leave that place, and head out into the unknown, my resume held before me, worn humbly, and proudly, and proclaiming "here is a woman who is in control and knows exactly what she is doing". i think...

burst

why are we surprised by bigotry? perhaps more appropriately why am i surprised by it? and why has it come as such a shock to me to find it in the uk? did i really think that i wouldn't? i mean i knew about the BMP, and jeff had shown me various articles in the daily mail. that should have prepared me right? nope...

last week, much to my personal horror and disgust, a vulnerable young woman was left out in the cold purely because she was different to those around her. and what surprised me most about it was that people seemed genuinely afraid to help her. and these were professional people, whose jobs are designed to help vulnerable people.

but i think that's what bother's me most about it, is the fear. look at japan. i actually can't watch any of the news reports about japan, because the amount of tension and fear they generate is intolerable. i'm enraged by the constant "let's talk to this professional about what might happen", and that, more worryingly, people in positions of responsibility seem to take these reactionary stories as "truth" and so make decisions, or offer advice to their ex-pats that is ill founded.

there are very few voices of calm out there, they get drowned out by the cacophonous din of "reporting" (i quite deliberately didn't use the word journalism here).

which, to end on a bitter note, is what happened to the young lady i mentioned before. the misconception about her situation was spread to others and so she was further disadvantaged. and finally, my happy idyllic bubble about life in england, was burst.

this is a field mouse. well, at least it's the picture i got when i typed field mouse into google. as we practically live on a field, they often come for a visit. we have, so far, been somewhat inhospitable hosts, having trapped four of them, terminally, if you know what i mean!

they seem to have forgotten this though, in their collective mouse memory, because jeff and i spent last night being periodically woken by a rustle, rustle coming from various points in the room. i bravely sent jeff forth to investigate, and on the last instance he discovered our house guest perching on the top of our clothes rack. these mice are pretty small, but this was a diminutive one. my husband then, in his reasonable way, found a shoe box, approached the clothes rack and kindly asked the mouse to get in it. no word of a lie. i believe the exact wording was "just get in the box and i'll take you outside." kept me awake for ages, giggling, that one did!

but it's funny the things you can't shake from your childhood, such as don't investigate the rustling coming from jeff's wardrobe because it will probably turn out to be hiding a taipan, or a redback, or some other such poisonous creature.

this conditioning is of course why i tell jeff to investigate the noises coming from his wardrobe, even if that involves waiting for him to actually get home, going downstairs to get him, or gently (by which i mean roughly) waking him from a deep restful slumber.

and also why i will never, ever, no matter how innocent they look, like spiders.

the blank page of my blog has been staring at me with blind accusation for the last few days. perhaps i've been too wrapped up in contemplating my own future. for you see, i've quite my job. that is, i handed in my notice yesterday and i only have a month left to go.

and what an interesting response i've had from my coworkers. (incidentally, the preferred term here is colleague, which is weird when you'e in the supermarket and a call comes over the PA for a colleague from fresh produce!) most people are genuinely surprised and a few are even sad (one for the ego!), but all seem quite impressed at my bravery as i don't actually have another job to go. but i guess it's the fantasy we all have isn't it? you're at work, the boss is demanding something, the phone wont stop ringing, you've got enough work to last you for a month, but it's all due tomorrow, and you think to yourself, that's it, i'm just gonna walk out and never come back. and what a great feeling it is too. sod responsibility and being an adult, i'm gonna throw caution to the wind and put all of my eggs into one basket (or any other appropriate metaphor that teaches us about being responsible).

and the best bit? i've already been asked about a job that isn't definite, but wouldn't have been offered to me if i hadn't handed my notice in.

vaycay

well, i'm sure all six (no wait, seven if i include jeff) of my readers where devastated when i didn't post last week, but it was a choice between write up my blog or head down to the beach bar for another jar of sangria. it's a pretty easy choice...

i honestly, hand on my heart, almost started crying when we walked out of newcastle airport last night. it was about 3 degrees, it was dark, and most importantly, it was windy. the whippy kind of wind that blows directly into your face no matter which way you stand.

but i'm feeling ok with it all this morning. a week long of relaxing will do that i suppose.

in a way this is kind of the first vacation i've ever been on. i've been on holidays where i've toured around cities, we went on camping trips when i was a kid, and i've flown in planes big and small to visit family, but i've never rocked up to a resort village and spent the week doing nowt.

as much as i enjoyed it though, by the end of the week i was getting pretty antsy. i'm nothing but amazed by people who can do it for more than a week at a time. i should point out by nothing i mean we went for some long walks, read books, ate food, drank sangria. it seemed to me while we were there that there were plenty of people who did even less than that.

i suppose you're all expecting me to make some sort of disparaging comments about the beaches as well, as we aussies are want to do. actually, i thought all the beaches were lovely, and i was quite charmed by the beach chairs and umbrellas on the beach that you could rent for the day. that shit would never fly back home! the conversation, i like to imagine, would go something like this:

"oh look dazza, they have beach umbrellas and sunbeds to rent. ooo, how european!"
"hey, you're right shazza! let's find out how much they are. Excuse me mate, how much for a beach brolly and two of them banana chairs?"
"it's $20 for the parasol for the day, and $10 each for the sunbeds."
"how much?! you're joking right? why would i pay that much when i've got my own beach towel i can sit on. you're a joker mate! come on shazza, this guys a joker!"
"but dazza..."
"c'mon shazza! this guy's a stubbie short of a picnic if he thinks he can charge people that much!"

and so on, and so on. but the aussies and the brits do approach holidays differently, i suppose because of the landscape around us. people genuinely suffer from the winter blues over here, and the thought of escaping to warmth and sunlight, even if for a few days, is somewhat of a balm to depressed souls. in oz, particularly in the northern states, it's warm (well, hot) all the time. i think peoples desire to escape oz has less to do with the weather than for people who flee great britain. and i'm beginning to understand why.