One Soul - Going Cheap

Oh, little blog, why have I neglected you so? I started off with such good intentions, and then quickly realised that waffling on about nothing was not the way to inspire myself into doing more creative things. I've yet to work out what is the way to such inspiration, but maybe I'll keep the blog ticking over to ensure that if I do work it out I can share it with the interwebs.

I'm currently traipsing around town attempting to persuade swanky firms they want to employ me. I think I'm failing. I always stumble at the question: 'Why do you want to work at ...?' This presents a conundrum for me, mainly because I don't want to work there. Or perhaps I secretly do. Perhaps I secretly think that it would be perfect to work in a job that allowed me to escape from having a life outside work. It's pretty easy to answer: 'lawyer', when asked about your profession. Shame I don't seem to understand what a lawyer does.

Ah, fuck. This is terrible. But too sapped to fix it up.

Welcome back, bloggo.

xx

Palin

It pains me that now (well at least for the next few months) when the name Palin is mentioned I shall be filled with hope that someone is discussing the wonderful Michael Palin, only to discover that in fact they are referring to that horrible Sarah Palin.

I can't help feeling the same way I did when Julie Bishop became the Deputy Leader of the Opposition: horrified. I know I should be thrilled that there is a woman being chosen to fill these important roles, but all it does is remind me that it is still a thrill that women are chosen, and how far we have to go before it will stop being a thrill. Also, why must every woman rising to important positions such as these be the subject of so much scrutiny? I know it happens because I indulge in it. Constantly. For example, I can probably rattle of more information about Sarah Palin than I can about her decrepit ticket-mate John McCain, despite him having been the presumptive nominee for the Republican Party since February.

In the case of Sarah Palin, it is also her abhorrent stance on all the issues that are important to me: abortion, gun control, environmental protection, etc. I mean she is a member of Feminists for Life, which despite its name is actually less to do with being a feminist for life, and more to do with being a right-wing reactionary asshole. So there's that.

Feminists for Life strike me as particularly horrifying due to their completely shameless adoption of the much-maligned 'feminist' tag.* I think this is the difficulty in choosing a position on an issue, that when others you detest take the same position, or in this case, even worse, co-opt the word 'feminist' for their completely anti-feminist organisation, you feel less affinity with said position. Except in my case, when I just get mad, and try and work out how I can make them stop claiming the term feminist, or wearing that Amnesty International badge (looking at you Ruddock).

Once I work it out I'll be sure to let y'all know.

*note: not maligned by Lady Grey, simply maligned by a lot of people who LOVE the status quo.

Does Not Play Well With Others

I'm currently involved in a group project. This is a problem. Despite practically demanding the company of others at all times in my life, I do not play well with others. I don't know when this first became apparent to me. I hide it well, but deep down, every time I am involved in a group project I spend most of my time convinced the others will fuck it up, and then being equal parts smug and frustrated when they invariably do.

I blame my mother.* As a child nothing we did was ever good enough. Oh no, not a seeking therapy for feelings of rejection, not good enough. But just that happy level of, 'Oh, you stuffed that up? Yes, well, I expected as much. Move over while I fix it up!' That's normal, right? Right!?

Anyway, my partner in this ill-fated excursion into teamwork is fantastically incompetent. Delete-Microsoft-Word-from-one's-computer-the-day-before-a-deadline style incompetent. So this exercise has done little apart from affirm my smug sense of superiority and further justify my preference for flying solo.

Thus endeth today's insight.


*don't we all?

You're Doing It Wrong

Over the past 18 months many of the blogs I read regularly started to shut up shop. But their absence makes me feel no less nervous about starting my own. An internal struggle takes place between worrying that someone* might read your writing and judge it, and desperately hoping that someone** might read your writing at all. Sigh.

My current project is not close to complete. There is sun and chirpy birds today. "All the better to taunt you with, my dear."

I'm firm that I will not classify this as procrastination. Watching crap Mel Gibson movies until the wee hours of the morn is procrastination, searching through friends' facebook photos is procrastination, watching bands you don't particularly care for stumble ill-humouredly through interviews with oblivious hosts is procrastination. This is serving a purpose. This is a project to ensure that I write. Every day. Not analysis, not critique, not formulae as required by my work, but just write. For me.

But if just for me, why am I fearing the (apparently) inevitable interwebs put-down: You're Doing It Wrong?



*you admire
**with terrible taste, obvs.

The first...

I've never been a particularly creative person. Maybe it is a lack of confidence in my abilities. Maybe it is a lack of ability... When people ask I tell them that cooking is my creative outlet. But every time I cook I carefully follow a recipe. Not quite creative.

I have a funny relationship with creativity. A very old boyfriend was creative. I was jealous. I'm still jealous.

So, I want to nurture something I'm hoping exists, very very deep inside.

And now it's done. The very first post.