tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-11-21:/The diary of a design graduate on a rollercoaster ride of emotions in the hunt for that infamous ladder to get her first step on the climb of grown-up life.MokoFeed2009-11-21T08:51:45+01:00tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-09-27:/2009/09/27/just-a-number-7051207/victorialouise19862009-09-27T20:54:09+02:002009-09-27T20:54:09+02:00 <p><span>It's been a quiet month.  So how is working life treating me?  I certainly wouldn't use the word treat in that sentence as the true description of how I'm being handled.</span></p> <p><span>I got my letter for counselling the week that I started.  All my problems were solved.  What useless timing, I had a job... my depression was over.  I had finally got my first job.  I was learning all sorts of fascinating new things.  I was actually getting paid!!!</span></p> <p><span>And then I realised that I had signed away my soul.  The innocent contract I signed had nothing to do with employment.  I signed my life away for £6 an hour.  Why all the negativity?  I spent a whole year dreaming of having a job, blaming all my misery on not having one.  And now I have one I'm complaining.  I spent a year hating the people who were lucky enough to have jobs but complained about them. </span></p> <p><span>But right now my cheeks are smeared with mascara and I'm sat in my coat with the fire on to get warm.  I'm exhausted.  I'm run down.  I'm just a number.  Two weeks ago I worked a 6 day week... I wasn't best pleased but it was extra money and I wasn't seeing the boyfriend that weekend so I could tolerate it.  After one day off I was then expected to work a 51 hour week [well, a 61 hour week actually but it was a boyfriend weekend so I refused to work the Saturday].  I wasn't happy about it but I thought of the money and saw the light at the end of the tunnel when I could just sleep and rest.  The tunnel was bricked up, the light was just a worker walking down the tunnel with his little torch.  On Thursday I was given this weeks rota... 9am until 9pm Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday!!!  With 9am until 7pm on Saturday and 10am until 6pm on Sunday.  Were they joking?  The 6 day week followed by the 51 hours was because it was a particularly busy period.  Could they really expect the same from me for another week?  As a girl with a timid personality I didn't argue.  But that was before exhaustion got the best of me.  After a weekend of headaches and an inability to regulate my temperature the boyfriend suggested I phone in sick tomorrow.  Never in my education did I take off a day if I wasn't struck down with a plague-like illness.  Surely now isn't the time to start?  After many agonising  tears I decided it isn't.  Because they are free of morals and treat their staff like slaves does that mean I should abandon my own morals and beliefs?  So what is my decision?  Put up with it, think of the money and get through it?  Timid I may be, but a mug I am not.  I will not abandon my morals, I will go in to work [unless exhaustion really does get the better of me and strike me down with the plague in the morning] but I shall be having words and for the first time in my life putting my foot down with people that I see as authority.  I will work.  But I will NOT work 12 hours!  I will work an extra hour.  But I will not give up every hour of my day to a company who treat me as nothing but a number.  If they do insist that I must work the hours that I agreed to last week then I will no longer fight my body.  I will no longer fight my exhaustion.  My body may not be ill but it is far from healthy.  If they cannot see the logical fact that it is better to have me for a few less hours than to not have me there at all then that simply is not my problem.  I will not drive myself in to the ground because they are low on staff for no reason other than already treating staff so badly that they have walked out.</span></p> <p><span>But for now, I must sleep!</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/09/27/just-a-number-7051207/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-08-22:/2009/08/22/living-for-the-weekday-6796438/victorialouise19862009-08-22T21:32:24+02:002009-08-22T21:32:41+02:00 <p><span>After 14 months I can now, once again, tell the difference between a Monday and a Sunday, between a Wednesday and a Saturday without the aid of Home and Away.  I am employed.  I have a wage.  I have a life.  I have friends.  And I finally have an appointment with a counsellor to discuss my depression.  Do I still need to see a counsellor?  According to the mood evaluation sheet... NO.  But I won't complain that I'm feeling more cheerful.  I won't complain that I'm being paid to spend time with other human beings and talk on a phone all day.  And I certainly won't complain that for the first time in my life I am in the cool group.</span></p> <p><span>Am I in my dream job?  Not quite.  But what is my dream job?  I still want to be an interior designer.  But I love insurance.  Could the two be more opposite?  I may only be spending my days chatting on the phone selling insurance but after 8 years of chasing my design dream I feel open, free and excited at the thought of the winding paths towards a career.  After a year of soul destruction, dwindling confidence and low self-esteem I am back on form at top of the class with 100% on all 3 of my assessments.  I have slipped right back in to my role of teachers pet as if I never left... does make me wonder if life-long education would be the path to happiness and enlightenment, but who wants to spend millions and never earn a penny?</span></p> <p><span>Thursday night was the night for me to face my fears of giving blood.  The fears had subsided, I was feeling like the bravest of the brave, I could take on anything.  Then I walked in the room.  Was I donating blood to an emergency room of car crash victims?  I had prepared myself for blood.  I had prepared myself for needles.  I did not prepare myself for the layout of the room.  I was a bit shaky but no-one has ever conquered a fear by running in the opposite direction.  And did I mention I was looking for a few karma points?  So I bravely had my finger pricked, the multi-vitamins with iron did their job and I was sent on to stage two.  It was at this stage when the realisation set in.  First to go was the breathing, I was breathing twice as much as my lungs were asking for.  My heart began pounding hard enough for them to just remove it from my chest and squeeze the blood out quickly and easily.  I had pins and needles.  I was shaking.  Before I knew it I was in the middle of a panic attack and being led to my own little bed hidden by a screen.  Luckily I had the mother with me for support.  Unluckily though I got the nurse with the worst bedside manner I have ever known.  Did he make me feel calm?  No, he made me feel angry.  I wanted to do a good thing.  I honestly didn't see such a reaction on its way.  I felt like I was wasting his time.  He was intensifying my panic attack with his 'calming' words.  I still think I could have done it.  Before he spoke to me all I had was slightly intense breathing, had he taken me to donate I would have looked away and got on with it.  But now I will never know, I now have a fear a lot worse than before.</span></p> <p><span>Its three weeks since I saw the boyfriend.  And he still isn't here now.  He won't be here until next week.  From the intention of spending extra this week with him, to spending none. I am currently living for the weekday; an enjoyable sociable distraction, one that I get paid to enjoy.  As soon as my week begins again though, I can finally live for the weekend again, to get to see the handsome man that I get to call my boyfriend.  But for this weekend I'm going to tuck up with a film, and spend tomorrow following the football scores and swotting up for my final assessment on Tuesday.  The problem with being a star pupil is there is always extra pressure to keep up the standard.  But I won't lie, I love being the knowledgeable swot type.</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/08/22/living-for-the-weekday-6796438/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-08-02:/2009/08/02/waking-up-to-watch-nicky-campbell-6638991/victorialouise19862009-08-02T23:48:27+02:002009-08-02T23:48:27+02:00 <p><span>I sit at my computer a glowing shade of red.  I've just been for a stroll with father, I'm not glowing because I am so unfit I can barely handle a leasurely walk around the block.  I have taken on depression and beaten it... did I ever really have it in the first place?  I'm still doubtful.  Today's cherry red face and excessive tears are thanks to something much more haunting................... hormones!!!  Like werewolves, female kind can take a dramatic shift each month.  Perhaps to compare us to werewolves is more like what a man would say, but as a sufferer I can think of no better term.  From a normal, relatively happy [if you ignore the manic-depressive episodes] girl to someone that I barely recognise.  I can understand why men think it is all just an act, just an excuse to go a little crazy each month.  It is irrational.  It comes from nowhere.  It makes no sense.  If we can't explain it then how can we expect them to understand?  The father tells me its genetic, the mother turned in to an angry lunatic each month.  Luckily I didn't get the anger, the boyfriend doesn't have to watch out for flying frying pans... I got the tears.  I like to blame situational issues too, if I weren't already struggling with the day to day then what would I have to cry about?..... well, I'm sure I could find something.<br>What has baffled me this month however, is how my body knows?  Everybody does it... everybody skips a period here and there.  I read up on it [in fear that I was killing any chances I have of ever having children] and apparently there is no danger in carrying on through a couple of pill packets.  I fear a slap on the wrist at check-ups but I simply can't resist the opportuinity to fiddle nature from time to time.  And somehow, recently my body has known this.  The hormones come in the final week of taking the pill so my body has no way of knowing that I will be giddily skipping past nature with a smile on my face this month... yet the past few months I have come away [relatively] tear-free.  Perhaps too much detail for the men reading now, but after two skipped months I fear skipping another so nature shall be having it's turn this month.  But my body doesn't yet know this, my body still has a week until it suffers withdrawal from man-made oestrogen.  So how does my body know that this month I am due my dose of PMT?  It knew to skip past that torture recently, how does it know that this is the month.  And why is it hitting me with everything it has?  The lesson perhaps..... don't mess with nature.  Lesson learnt?  I doubt it........</span></p> <p><span>I've had the boyfriend two weekends in a row.  Social engagements in the next two weekends [one weekend being mine for once... finally I have a social life] mean that I got his two weekends in a row before those sad weekends apart.  From waking up to watch Nicky Campbell in bed this morning, to napping on my bed this afternoon like a couple of exhausted pensioners.  I love my weekends with the boyfriend.  Like all couples we have our little disagreements from time to time but recently we have been the happy, fun-loving and very 'intimate' couple.  I have felt totally stress-free and happy.  But then I didn't realise what was coming........ this afternoon out of nowhere, the full moon shone.  The werewolf greeted us unexpectadly.  Why was I crying?  What was wrong with me?  From the tiniest comment, came a giant elephant in the room.  He wanted to know what was wrong, and being a man he was determined to keep asking until he got his answer.  I just wanted to drop it and move on, I knew what was coming if his line of questioning continued.  I left the room, I imagine it looked like I was storming out in a strop but in reality I know how much he hates it when I cry so I was merely trying to calm myself down and prevent the inevitable tears.  Failed.  The moment passed though, he thought I was mental but we went back to happy and after a lovely day we fell asleep on my bed.  Until he had to go.... then I cried some more, something I thought I was past now, I had adapted to no longer crying when he leaves... so once again here I blame the hormones.</span></p> <p><span>Is it always hormones?  Or do we really sometimes use it as an excuse?  Maybe sometimes we just need a good cry, just need to get it out.  Maybe the hormones do have something to do with it?  Why else have I cried quite so much today?  But maybe sometimes it is just a good excuse for just being a bit of a crazy mental lunatic for a day, to get away with things without a rational explanation........ trouble is, you men will never know so just to be safe, you will just have to be understanding regardless.</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/08/02/waking-up-to-watch-nicky-campbell-6638991/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-07-21:/2009/07/21/i-want-those-karma-points-up-for-grabs-6561526/victorialouise19862009-07-21T18:07:22+02:002009-07-21T18:07:22+02:00 <p><span>Thursday 20 August 2009, 6:20pm _  The chocolate sacrifice for Lent apparently didn't gain me enough karma points so I'm going to try again.  I am going to face my fear.  I am going to be selfless [as selfless as one can really be when selfishly trying to gain karma points].  I am going to save lives.  I am going to give blood.</span></p> <p><span>Fear of needles - check.<br>Squeamish disposition - check.</span></p> <p><span>The perfect candidate for blood donation?  I fear I may pass out and need my blood back before my donation is even complete but I feel I should at least attempt it.  The mother always says I have a very rare blood type.  People need my blood.  But just to think of the experience, far beyond the terrifying BCG of year 11, an estimated 10 minutes with a needle in my arm.  They say you don't need to look at the blood.  But how can you not?  Who can resist looking at disturbing things, just out of curiosity?  No need for any gory details but as a member of the female population I see blood on a pretty regular basis, but after almost 10 years I have become immune to the sight of this particular event.  Normal blood, the type that comes from accidents and injuries, and flowing in to large bags for donation still makes me feel ill at the thought, I can barely stand the sight of the little brother tearing off a plaster.  Can my weak stomach really handle the experience of my blood being drained out in to a bag?  I want to save lives.  I want to make a difference.  I want those karma points up for grabs.  But I'm a total wuss!  Hopefully a month will be long enough to build up the courage to face the fear, after all... the only way to combat fear is to face it right?  Is it?  I caught a moth once but I havn't been able to face that fear again.</span></p> <p><span>The job hunt has taken a back seat this week.  I am still browsing the sites, the guilt is too intense when I dare not to.  But this week my new focus has been learning my driving theory.  I started lessons when I was 17.  Oh how I wish I had just got on with it and got it out of the way.  Five years later I still can't drive.  I started learning again last summer.  But after a scary incident on the road [a car was coming toward me and I really didn't feel like we would both fit.... so in a fit of terror I put my foot on the brake and stopped randomly in the road] my confidence was destroyed.  So I gave up again.  Third time lucky now?  With no other real focus I have become possessed.  When I want to learn I will learn.  I will obsess over it until I can write my own book about it.  Yesterday I took stopping distances to a new geeky level.  Not happy to simply memorise the numbers, I put my maths brain to work and figured out the formula to work them out.  I do not have a memory brain.  I have a mathematical, logical brain.  Now to use the logical brain of mine to figure out where on earth I could have put my driving license all those years ago.</span></p> <p><span>Time to go check out my fitness on the little brother's Wii... because apparently not being able to keep a tennis ball within the boundaries of the court makes me as fit as an 80 year old?!?!!  Must work on that.......</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/07/21/i-want-those-karma-points-up-for-grabs-6561526/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-07-12:/2009/07/12/make-mine-a-double-6500716/victorialouise19862009-07-12T22:24:33+02:002009-07-12T22:24:33+02:00 <p><span>Number 62 West Parade. 30 May 2007_  The last time I slept in a double bed with the boyfriend.  For one glorious month I was a proper grown-up.  Living in my own [rented] house with friends with the man of my affections round the corner in his own [rented] house with friends. </span></p> <p><span>We met early in my first year of university, he was a kind second year who befriended me on MySpace.  I saw him a few times, there were awkward glances across the dancefloor but no communication away from the keyboard.  He looked familiar but I could never figure out why.  Eventually came St Patrick's Day, the first time I spotted him and actually recognised him outside HSBC so I told my friend.  Being drunk she took the opportunity to shout out his name while I tried to hide in embarrassment.  And there began my love story.  Only I didn't love him.  The boyfriend at the time hated his friends, so disliked the friendship.  I was smitten so I offered to end the friendship if it bothered him.  Not to worry, the love story could continue.  I got dumped because apparently I just couldn't be trusted with him.  I cried a lot.  I thought my life was over.  I look back and I despair.  I despair and I cringe.  However, through the blurred vision of my tears I saw the boyfriend in a different light.  The Kooks were cool at the time, the indie look was in and this boy fit the bill quite well.  Did the ex-boyfriend have a point?  He certainly didn't at the time but maybe he saw something I didn't.  A week or two passed and after a lot of persistance I got my kiss.  A very drunken kiss.  Then came summer so months at home passed and I had once again embraced single life.</span></p> <p><span>Second year of university and we were back to platonic friendship.  The housemate had a bit of a crush on his friend so we had good reason to stay friends, but once again only when drunk and through a keyboard.  In March 2007, after telling him I only wanted to be friends the light changed again.  But as a final year student was I too late?  I was getting him, I was determined.  Using my feminine charms I got myself another drunken kiss, this time much better and I wanted more.  With some school girl tactics of "my friend likes you" from the housemates I gradually wore him down.  The first date, the first sober time together, was in his bedroom watching Buffy the Musical.  He didn't kiss me.  He sat as far away on the bed from me as possible.  This wasn't the plan.  Did he really think I wanted to watch Buffy?!!  When it finished I had to bring out the big guns... the playfight.  Known to all girls, you don't watch chick flicks without taking mental notes of tactics.  It worked a treat.  Men are so easy... a bit of a playful attack with a pillow, a bit of tickling and hey presto, you have a kiss.  But my work was still incomplete.  I had gained myself a sleeping space in his comfy double bed but I still had the ex girlfriend to move aside and the much more pressing 'I'm leaving in a month' issue.  Finally on the 12 May 2007 I got him, but I also sat in curry in my white shorts so in embarrassment in the morning the issue of our relationship status wasn't raised.  Finally on the 17 May 2007 I got him, and this time it was sticking! </span></p> <p><span>For two weeks of our relationship we had a double bed.  He went home to a single bed.  I went home to a single bed.  Even my university house had a single bed.  It has taken two years, but on the 11 July 2009 we finally slept in a double bed together again.  A rather long story just to reveal the news of my new doublebed but more than worth it for the chance to reminisce about the story of getting my handsome man.  The freedom, the space.  I love to be close to him, but the opportunity to just sleep in my own space.  To be 22 and finally have a grown up bed.  Wow!  All thanks to the brother though, he moved out yesterday and after a few hints to him he kindly donated his bed to me.  My large bedroom feels incredibly small now, and is definlitely taking some getting used to, but it is so worth it.</span></p> <p><span>We went to the brothers house warming party last night.  The best house in the town.  I couldn't resist the urge to advise him on a better layout for his furniture but soon after we left.  I am happy for the brother.  And I am happy for the new bed.  But it is a big, beautiful, spacious and very white reminder of just what I don't have.  While he has escaped the house for a more grown-up life living with his girlfriend I feel trapped in a house with a step mother that makes it clear she doesn't want me here, and I still have the difficult goodbye to the boyfriend on Sunday evenings.  I've learnt a lot about my brother over recent weeks.  I have learnt that his seemingly perfect life is far from it, but that doesn't make me feel any less jealous and depressed about my own life. But for now I am going to enjoy some hot chocolate whilst I relax on my [big new] bed watching some TV.</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/07/12/make-mine-a-double-6500716/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-07-09:/2009/07/09/the-face-of-6480722/victorialouise19862009-07-09T20:38:44+02:002009-07-09T20:41:31+02:00 <p><span><span>Graduate Unemployment.  Oh yes, that is right friends... you are in famous company.  With the inappropriately titled blog 'unemployed graduate' the boyfriend comes in at number 1 on google when you search that paricular phrase.  Of course this was more than appropriate last summer before he landed the luckiest temp job God could send to him, but still he is harrassed by the press for his say on the situation.  So this time he sent them to the most depressed unemployed graduate he could think of..... me!  I was told I would get £50 for having a quick chat with the Daily Mail, no-one mentioned any photographs.  But then after my chat, luckily she caught me on a good day so there were no tears about my situation, she said someone will come round tomorrow to get a photograph.  Proud moment of fame, or slightly embarrassing moment of unemployment?  Perhaps I'll get spotted by employers, and a very sophisticated national newspaper is certainly a step up from my days in the local newspapers as church queen.  But is this not like starting out a TV career as the face of constipation medication?  Do I really want to be known as the girl that can't get a job, fingers crossed she mentions my very near misses in employment to show that I am a good prospect.  For now though my biggest </span><span>worry is, the inevitable girly dilemma, </span></span><span><span><span><span><span>what do I wear?!?!!</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p><span><span><span><span><span>This morning the first email I read was from SRM marketing congratulating me on my success and advancement to the next stage today.  Not wanting to appear lazy, idle or workshy by not attending, and certainly having feelings to get off my chest I politely replied.  I wanted to swear at them and call them every name under the sun.  But I am polite and well-mannered, and I always maintain an air of professionalism so I refrained from telling them where to get off.  I merely explained that after my experience yesterday, and the mounting evidence discrediting their company that I no longer wished to be involved in the process or with their company.  I got no reply.</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p><span><span><span><span><span>Meeting the best friend in town tomorrow and then a weekend with the boyfriend again.  After yesterdays emotional rollercoaster, which felt a bit more like the Oblivion with its one insane drop than the big dipper with its manageable ups and downs, it looks like today is the start of a good few days..... maybe a job could be thrown in to the mix of happiness? Or is that a bit greedy?</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p><span><span><span><span><span>"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in your soul.  Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal"_ Pamela Vaull Starr</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/07/09/the-face-of-6480722/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-07-08:/2009/07/08/on-monday-i-applied-for-a-job-one-of-those-6474157/victorialouise19862009-07-08T19:58:21+02:002009-07-08T22:10:57+02:00 <p><span>On Monday I applied for a job.  One of those recession desperation jobs.  Take it or leave it I won't be offended if I don't hear back.  I heard back, wooh!  So on Tuesday I phoned to arrange an interview.  Today, I attended the interview.  As a take it or leave it desperation job I went into it fearless, "I'm not letting myself worry, It's not like its my dream job and I've never come out of an interview crying" were my famous last words to the boyfriend.  I had decided not to be worried after the father had done some research for me last night.  I had googled it to death and could barely find a thing... bad sign number 1!  The father didn't find much more, but what he did find wasn't exactly a </span><a title="Scam" href="http://tomcat4.prospects.ac.uk:8080/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4089&view=previous&sid=32da6f2e724766adf2f0ebf0e3cb78c0"><span>glowing report </span></a><span>... definite bad sign number 2!  But what did I have to lose?  And the old fear of people judging me for not trying hard enough was haunting me enough to get me on the bus.  So I reached the building with about 20 minutes to spare but apparently had an application form to fill in so I headed straight on in, the small office was in a rather neglected looking building.... bad sign number 3!  But like I said, I had nothing to lose from the experience.  So after waiting for an hour, yes I was 20 minutes early but an hour of waiting still makes it 40 minutes late, my name was finally called.  The nerves set in slightly when I heard his strong american accent, would I be able to understand him?  It all started friendly with a chat about football... and then it turned sour.  No mention of what the job entailed, straight on to the attack.  Of course, I expect questions regarding my work experience and how I have spent the last year.  The boyfriend says I need to improve my </span><span><span>lying </span></span><span> truth stretching on this area but with or without my honest nature I realise that when they jot down their private little notes it may be about my lack of experience, or if I have successfully lied then my honest face that gives me away.  In short, I expect professionalism.  NO JOB.  UNEMPLOYED SINCE JULY 08.  NO EXPERIENCE.  I do not expect to see him writing such things in such huge capital letter on his sheet right in front of my eyes.  It took all my strength to not cry.  From that point on I left the room, unfortunately not physically [I so wish I had been brave enough to just walk out] but mentally I had left.  Further questioning on how my parents feel about my jobless state and living at home... the relevance?... just upset me more and I could not wait to get out.  The boyfriend phoned me afterwards to stop my tears, they weren't worth my tears.  Fair to say it was the worst interview I have ever experienced, I wasn't expecting to hear from them again</span></p> <p><span>5:46pm... 01612421780 appears on my screen.  After todays hellish experience, I didn't want to answer to be told the inevitable bad news so I let it go through to my answer phone.  The message tone jingled so I nervously dialled to listen to it.  I've been chosen for the second round of observation days.  What?!?!!!?!!!  I have never performed so badly in an interview.  I nearly cried.  He scribbled nothing but negative comments on my sheet.... bad sign number 4?  Would a legitimate company invite someone back after the world's worst interview?  Strict dress code of no heels... bad sign number 5!  No heels?  Why ever not?  Am I walking around a lot, from door to door possibly?  The boyfriend was highly doubtful from the very start so off he went to google.  What would the 3rd google of this company show?  Having spoken to the father I had decided to give it a go, I would never know if I didn't try and I could leave at any time.  More importantly in my mind I feared judgement.  I feared people having no sympathy for my position if I don't take the opportunities that come my way.  I feared that people don't think I'm trying.  I fear other people's opinions of me more than I should.  But, as if 5 bad signs weren't enough the boyfriend's google produced many more not so </span><a title="Scam2" href="http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/0/305/RipOff0305959.htm"><span>glowing reports</span></a><span>.</span></p> <p><span>Will I be going tomorrow?  No!!!  Do I care about what people will think? No!!!  I know the people that care about me and know me understand and don't judge me.  And I will not be the victim of scammers preying on desperation, judge me on that, I'm not wrong.  Now to just find a bluddy job, father says things are picking up a bit now, fingers crossed.  Speaking to the brother about interior design, educating him on true interior design opposed to the overrated decorating shows on TV, I once again remembered why I did my degree and why I want to be a designer.  No other topic of conversation, apart from maybe girly chats about the boyfriend, makes me happier.  I can speak of nothing else with such passion and excitement.  Everthing worth having is worth waiting for, and for me this is definitely worth it..... I think the wait has been quite long enough now though.</span></p> <p><span>Time for some Ugly Betty and a cold glass of refreshing milk before bed.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 3<br></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/on-monday-i-applied-for-a-job-one-of-those-6474157/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-06-21:/2009/06/21/the-forgotten-class-6358482/victorialouise19862009-06-21T22:57:59+02:002009-06-21T23:30:18+02:00 <p><span>We are the lost generation.  The generation that has no need to fear redundancy because we will never land that first job to set us off on the path to redundancy.  I need to stop reading the newspaper again.  With all the talk of MP's expenses I started to read the newspaper again, for almost a week I had no idea what was going on.  I didn't even know what expenses were.  But at least it was a new topic, something that wasn't going to plunge me further in to sadness.  So I waved my little white flag and surrendered myself to the news.  Reading about MPs spending stupid amounts of money on moats and scotch eggs isn't the best news for a girl with no money but it was nice to see these people get a public thrashing for their misbehaviour.  And then came June, the end of the educational year.  Thousands of new graduates flooding the labour market.  Could the newspaper make it sound any worse for these poor individuals, the class of 2009?  My only question... what happened to the class of 2008?  The forgotten class.  Where were our headlines?  Where was our sympathy?  Since January the focus has been on how hard it will be for the class of 2009, what about how hard it already is for the class of 2008?  As a fully fledged member of the class of 2008 I wish to take this opportunity to complain.  To moan and whine.  To hate the class of 2009 for having a year of bliss at university while the class of 2008 struggles on with no news headlines.  So this is to all the 2008ers out there.  The graduates that left education filled with optimism and hope only to be hit smack bang in the face with an iron door as the recession hit a month later.  We did get a mention in a BBC article the other week, we got around two sentences worth.  It has been bad for us, but it will be even worse for the 2009 graduates.  Once again, the class of 2008 has vanished.  Our wasted year has been forgotten, despite continuing unemployment and depression our extra year isn't worth mentioning next to this tragic year for the newbies.  I could have screamed when a news story about the poor 18 year old A level students came on, I'm not even going to go in to that.</span></p> <p><span>Now don't get me wrong, as a depressed nutjob as a result of this recession I have every sympathy for the new batch of unemployed graduates.  I simply wish there was more recognition of the struggles of the 2008 batch.  So this is to all my unemployed peers; the 1st class honours designer who no longer feels able to apply for graduate roles a year later, the Oxford graduate who has so far only succeeded in a temporary Christmas job in Boots [lucky bitch, I didn't even get that far], the best friend who has had to return to her native South America while her daddy couldn't afford to keep her living here jobless.  To all those stuck in admin and retail, and certainly to those who can't even land such crummy jobs because we are 'overeducated'.  Bring on a general election; I didn't vote Labour in 2005, I didn't ask for this.  Perhaps it would have happened under Conservative rule.  But, of course, it is a very British trait to blame the government for everything that went wrong and believe that your party would not have made the same mistakes so today I am proud to say I am British, very British.</span></p> <p><span>In other news, it is Glastonbury this week.  Booooooooooo, bring on the rain!!!  I have had to hide the boyfriend from the Facebook newsfeed.  I'm dreading the loneliness as he forgets my existence for almost a week as it is, I don't need his regular countdown updates to remind me.  The little brother is on a school holiday all week too so that is a vital distraction missing too.  However, he has let me borrow his Wii for the week so I won't hold it against him.  The mother has saved the day for Wednesday ......with tickets to see Take That.  I was devastated when they split up, I cried for days.  I was only 8 years old but they were my first boyband love.  I got to see them for my birthday mere months before they declared it was the end [which they swore at the time was never going to happen, liars!].  I feel I may still hold some resentment towards them for breaking my young heart as I havn't quite jumped on the band wagon this time around.  But mother has been wanting to get me tickets to see them since they reformed so when her friend couldn't go she pounced on her and bought them.  She said I could take a friend but her voice said otherwise, like an eager child screaming "pick me, pick me" I couldn't possibly take anyone else.  I didn't really have anyone else available to take, but I would have taken her anyway.</span></p> <p><span><br>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 0 [I have been 'clean' for 4 days]<br>5-a-day?_ Still no appetite, I did have a small tomato in a sandwich though and my daily apple juice... a little is better than nothing</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/06/21/the-forgotten-class-6358482/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-06-15:/2009/06/16/tools-6312424/victorialouise19862009-06-16T00:51:19+02:002009-06-16T00:51:19+02:00 <p><span>"On behalf of every man, looking out for every girl, you are the god and the weight of her world"_ John Mayer.</span></p> <p><span>Like I said yesterday, I couldn't have asked for a better family.  And as if to prove a point both the parents were on excellent form tonight.  I had been feeling ok today, I had been playing with grass on my 3d visualising program for the boyfriend.  After 3 years of using it I still get overexcited when something looks real, and today it was the grass.  The distraction and focus has definitely been good for me; like the website designing made me feel like my days had a purpose a few months ago, this visualising and stepped up job hunt has made my days feel less wasted again.  But then, seemingly for no reason; I couldn't put my finger on what had caused it, but from nowhere I began to feel quite down.</span></p> <p><span>Mother's spidey-senses kicked in and while I was feasting on my beans on toast she phoned me to invite me on a trip to Tesco.  So off I went, I'm not a particularly big fan of Tesco but I could do with browsing the aisles for fathers day.  And ultimately I was going to go up for a visit anyway to get in my exercise with a bit of time on the Wii with the little brother, and after my aching arms from the weekend's Wii boxing I figured that this was a surefire way to build up my obviously pathetic arm muscles.  I try my best not to win too often because he is quite a sore loser, I am far too competitive myself and hate to lose but you have to do these things for love.  After a few rounds of golf he left me to play out with his friend.  But I admit, I am Victoria and I am a Wii addict.  So I stayed up in his bedroom to play by myself, after all this was my days exercise, it had to be done.  I heard the finishing tune of Emmerdale and heard some footsteps coming up.  It was mother coming up to see how I am, I fear both the parents are under the impression I may take one too many paracetamol any day now.  So I invited her to play with me... now the sight of the little brother playing, and the concentration on the boyfriends face is funny enough but mother took it to a whole new level with her boxing.  Nobody looks their best on that console, and I'm still praying that the boyfriend never feels the need to put his video of me seemingly making sex noises while I struggle to row my canoe on YouTube, but watching mother playing tonight certainly brightened my day......</span></p> <p><span>.....until I got home.  Bring on parent number 2.  The dreaded question when I am feeling low; "Are you ok?"..... a failsafe method to bring on the tears.  It is my kryptonite.  He had been sat in the room playing with his laptop for a bit but it was when he was leaving that he noticed me looking sad.  He had one foot out the door when he asked the question.  He was going nowhere.  The floodgates opened.  "Whats wrong?".... another question that generally just causes tears while I try to take some charge of my brain and formulate a sentence to express my feelings.  Today the feelings weren't step mother related, I still don't know if I will ever have the heart to bring that up, but I did pour out my heart about everything else.  There was a short pause while he talked me out of my hyperventilating state, but there were lots of cuddles.  He isn't good with emotions so I don't expect a lot from him in these situations but to just be there to hold me and be my daddy.  When I had calmed down I got some time to talk to him, I don't talk to him a lot... he is a man always on the go, or lost in the big maze that is my home.  Given my recent questioning of my religious beliefs I questioned him on why he had given up on his.  I was surprised to hear that he hadn't, well not completely at least.  He is an engineer so he has a very science based belief system which ultimately contradicts with religion but at the same time he is a very spiritual man who believes in everything and nothing.  He can't believe in one superior being but he will not rule out the many alternative beliefs of people, how can he prove them to be right or wrong?  And apparently Stephen Hawkin believes in God, and so did Darwin... who would have thought it.  A bit later he popped back down with some CDs for me to copy for him, apparently he keeps forgetting to do it and he needs to give them back to his friend soon.  Mindfulness Meditation.  What a handy time for him to remember...........</span></p> <p><span>I spoke to a friend I grew up with in church today also.  Who better to turn to when in religious crisis?  I believe that God will not give anyone more than they can handle, and that suffering must be a part of life... but I do not feel I can handle my load at the moment. "God is always there and gives you the tools you need to get through it" were his wise words.  Nonsense, I thought.  I'm struggling to get through it and see no tools.  I see my tools now; from the boyfriend talking me through it on Friday night to the parental never ending love and support, and the thoughtful friends always there to talk to when I need them.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 1<br>Tears_ A waterfall<br>5-a-day? A general appetite would help...</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/06/16/tools-6312424/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-06-14:/2009/06/14/step-6304218/victorialouise19862009-06-14T22:45:40+02:002009-06-14T23:02:33+02:00 <p><span>"You can choose your friends but you can't choose your family"</span></p> <p><span>I love my friends, even the ones I didn't choose.  You can't always choose your friends when you are put with 5 total strangers to live with in university halls but even those I loved.  I love my family, I think I was extremely lucky with the parents I was given, and even though we had a rough few teenage years I get on well with my brother and my little brother looks up to me like a second mother.  But then there is the question of step family, surely you should be allowed a say in them?  But then there is also the saying that you can't choose who you fall in love with.  It started when I was about 10.  Mummy left daddy for the school caretaker.  I hated him.  He split up my family.  He was old enough to be my grandad.  And in the first few years he could get a bit scary when he mixed his drinks.  But without him I wouldn't have my little brother.  And he has changed a lot, and I have grown up a lot and no longer see him as the man who stole mummy from daddy.  I wouldn't change him and I am happy to have him as my step father.  I always wanted father to be happy, I wanted to see him move on.  First he tried it on with a lesbian, obviously that didn't work out for him so he just accepted her as his best friend.  Then he started going to gay clubs with her, as far as I know (and want to know) he remained straight.  Then came the mid-life crisis when he brought home Helen the 22 year old, quite worrying when he suggested that she could help me revise for my German GCSE, after all it wasn't that long ago that she did hers.  Then came Pauline.  The step mother.  She seemed shy, never really spoke to me.  And then off I went to university.  Her and the two ugly step sisters moved in a week later and took over my bedroom.  Not the best start to the family relations.  When I came home during holidays I accepted that it was hard for us to talk because we had missed the crucial weeks early on getting to know each other.  Since then nothing has changed.  We got a bigger house so I could have a bedroom again and a conservatory was built so that fatty could have a bedroom.  And here is where today's story truly begins as I have been over the other dramas in other blogs.  Fatty has moved out.  She has moved in with her boyfriend and his mother, which I barely count as moving out but she is gone.  So the conservatory is now being put to its true use.  But it has a lock on it.  A lock that I never understood, nobody else has keys for their bedroom... it may have been downstairs but it was still understood that it was a bedroom so why would we want to go raiding it?  I optimistically, very wrongly, assumed that the lock would now be gone.  After all, a conservatory is a standard family room isn't it.  A room for general use.  How very wrong I was.  It is not a conservatory.  It is a room only for the step mother.  It has remained locked since fattys departure, only left unlocked after father has been in there.  I have never felt welcome.  And now this powergame played by an immature 40 year old has made me feel truly unwanted in my own home, like a filthy germ to be sprayed and obliterated as soon as possible.  But how do you tell your dad that the woman he loves makes you feel so awful?  That one of the main reasons for a lot of your tears is his darling wife?  I don't know.  And I don't know what good it would do anyway.  In 4 years we have barely spoken, I can't imagine knowing that I don't like her is going to open up the conversational channels.  I don't feel I can talk to him, I hate to upset him and add stress to his life.  But I don't feel I can carry on like this either; I'm his little girl, his little pumpkin, surely he wouldn't want to be left in the dark about how it makes me feel....</span></p> <p><span>In other news, I had a WONDERFUL weekend with the boyfriend.  Even when we don't do anything, which is a regular occurence as my town has very little to do, I still feel happy.  I feel little or no need to cry.  I finally opened up to him on Friday about everything that bothers me.  I have tried very hard to not burden him with my problems, and not let on to him just how down in the dumps I have felt at times.  He isn't the depressive type at all and I always feel like he hates it when I cry.  But he told me to open up.  I felt a lot better being able to talk to him.  He thinks I'm a total nutjob but he loves me and I feel a lot better knowing that he is there for me and I can talk to him...... still going to keep it to a minimum though, I can be down so much sometimes that he would end up having to see a doctor himself to deal with all my emotional baggage.  Then on Saturday he proved himself as the best boyfriend in the world by buying me the new season Burnley shirt... which I wear with pride at all times in the house, going to give it a few weeks before it gets a public showing though, with it only going on sale on Friday I don't want to look like a poser.   But for now I shall wear it lots and remember just how wonderful he is at all times, even though he has left me with a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi to drink.  I already feel like quite a bloated bear.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 3<br>Tears_ 2<br>5-a-day?_ I tried but all my bananas were already open, eugh!</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/06/14/step-6304218/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-06-09:/2009/06/09/talk-6270093/victorialouise19862009-06-09T15:48:25+02:002009-06-09T15:48:25+02:00 <p><span>"Dreams are necessary to life"_ Anais Nin</span></p> <p><span>Considering last night I had a dream that I was taken hostage on a double decker bus and all forced to the back on the top deck [where I suddenly became extremely claustrophobic as the bus was at a bizarre angle that made it seem it was falling off the edge of a cliff... it was parked in the centre of town] I have decided to take today's quotation to mean life dreams and ambitions, opposed to the strange workings of the mind during nocturnal hours.</span></p> <p><span>I have been avoiding writing down my feelings the past few weeks; despite it being for the best to write down things to help work through them I have decided against it because I hate to appear as a depressive type who just sits about in a self-pitying state all the time.  Today was the day to get that sorted.  I sat in the waiting room shaking uncontrollably, barely able to concentrate on one single thought, nervously looking up at the screen waiting for my name to appear.  When it appeared I just wanted it to go away; why was I here?  I don't have an infection, no lumps, bumps or breakages.  I built up my courage and off I went, still shaking like a leaf when I reached his door.  I sat down, still not sure after three weeks of thinking about it just how I was going to bring it up.  "So what can I do for you today" said the lovely doctor who has been looking after me since I was just a tiny toddler needing a house call.  Still shaking, I took a deep breath in an attempt to control the inevitable tears.  "Erm.... [the unwelcome tears arrive just in time for me to say] I cry all the time, I cry too much"  Well, I suppose that is my problem.  I was hoping that with my grammatical abilities I could come up with something a bit better than that but unfortunately not.  So I sobbed my way through my doctor's appointment.  I refused to self-diagnose and say I'm depressed because I don't think its a term to be used lightly, even after he said it himself I'm still not convinced; I'm just struggling a bit, lots of people are, I just cry about it a bit more than the average person, its just a bit of a sad time in my life.  I still have an optimist inside cheering me on, reminding me that I'm not in control of the flawed banking systems, and that its not that I'm not good enough [even at a time when my confidence is at an all time low I still believe that I am an amazing designer, I am good at what I do and any company would be lucky to have me, its just a case of finding a way to show them] but unfortunately the crazy manic depressive running about in my brain has too much control at the moment and just loves to cry.  Given the option of anti-depressants or counselling, I went straight for the counselling.  I fear nothing more than anti-depressants; life is to be lived and emotions are there for a reason.  The tears suck at the moment but it is part of being human to experience them and find a way through; to appreciate life more when they are gone and to feel like you are a stronger person for coming out the other side without fooling your brain in to being happier.  And like BT have always said "It's good to talk".  I want to understand why I cry more than other people, I want to talk my way through it and learn new ways to cope.</span></p> <p><span>On Saturday night I had my first night out in months.  I often forget about my school friends, I put my university friends on much higher pedestals.  Perhaps because I feel like I became a different person through university, grew up and felt my life go in a different direction to that of many of my school friends.  But having seen them all [well, a select few... some of them really have drifted away from the group] again on Saturday I love them all again.  From having so much to drink that I somehow got over my fear of piggy back rides in the middle of a [rather quiet] bar to breaking down and bearing my soul to Ben the psychology friend, it was a rather eventful night.  In all honesty I fear I was already drunk before I even left the house, discussing the claret and blue lights on the town hall clock with random people at the cash machine, and then following this with telling everyone I saw... fair to say I am proud of my newly Premier League home team I think.</span></p> <p><span>This weekend is boyfriend weekend so hopefully the week will go fast in my excitement.  Although with all the company researching I have to do to send my CV off to every design company in the country [again!] it hopefully won't go by too quickly.</span></p> <p><span>"Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, ife is a broken winged bird that cannot fly"_ Langston Hughes</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 3<br>Tears_ 1<br>5-a-day?_ Success!</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/06/09/talk-6270093/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-22:/2009/05/22/wonder-6159519/victorialouise19862009-05-22T20:50:30+02:002009-05-22T20:50:30+02:00 <p><span>"Mothers are amazing!  The father is equally amazing, but in a different way".... as if to prove this point I was presented with a new t-shirt today.  Not good with words, father has a tendency to buy me things to cheer me up.  Before Christmas he brought home Cuddles the teddy bear to help me through my tears.  Today I was given a t-shirt.  I opened it up to see Wonderwoman.  Erm..... thanks?!  "Its you... its wonderwoman"  Aawww, thankyou daddy.  Once again, even though my own self-belief is low at least I know the parents still think I'm the best thing since sliced bread.  And as a big cartoon fan in his youth, still to this day he uses his childhood Batman mug when he goes to the grandparents house, I felt truly honoured to be labelled as Wonderwoman.  And if I'm honest, she looks pretty damn cool.  And it fits just right.</span></p> <p><span>Today was a very sad day in the house.  It was time to say goodbye to Corrie.  She arrived about 2 years ago when one of the uncles flew away to Cyprus, the hairy little girl would never cope with such temperatures so she was adopted in to the house.  But now the uncle's wife is returning to study for a PhD and wants her doggy back.  I knew it was coming, I had been warned months ago that we would be losing her but it had been delayed several times so I had convinced myself she might get to stay.  But today the father came in the room to break the bad news to me.  I had to tell the boyfriend immediately, at times I worried that he loved her more than me, but there was nothing he could do, not even a goodbye.  I said my goodbyes to her, gave her one last breadstick to nibble on, and took the other little man in my arms to wave goodbye to her at the door.  He tried to stop it, he tried to keep hold of her lead but he had to let go.  So we waved to our favourite little westie and came inside for a little cry together.  But hey, at least she has only moved house... although with the brother moving out and the fat step sister meant to have gone weeks ago but still lingering, it did just add to the list of everyone else who is moving on while I feel trapped.  Not to worry though, I phoned the doctors and they can fit me in on the 9th of June... I could be dead by then [if I had some sort of illness, fortunately not] but at least it gives me chance to keep an eye on the moods to make sure it is worth the visit.</span></p> <p><span>"You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right"_ Maya Angelou.  Just the quote I needed from my calendar today.......</span></p> <p><span>Time for a quiet night in with a bit of TV and 1984 to distract myself from the boyfriend's night out with friends.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 2<br>5-a-day?_ Oops</span></p> <p> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/22/wonder-6159519/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-21:/2009/05/21/better-6154528/victorialouise19862009-05-21T21:31:41+02:002009-05-21T21:31:41+02:00 <p><span>Upon reflection, I have come to the conclusion that I am better than them.</span></p> <p><span>With the father still not home from his holiday, and in desperate need of company and parental cuddles, I walked up to the mothers house.  After all, mothers are amazing!  The father is equally amazing, but in a different way... and as I said, he still hasn't returned from sunny Spain.  As I arrived mother was already busy searching the job websites for me, determined to give me a boost as quickly as possible, unfortunately the suggestion of 15 hours a week walking children to school didn't really do the trick [it sounded like a slightly overrated lollipop lady job... if I'm going to be doing silly jobs while I wait for my moment to shine then I would at least like it to be full time, and away from noisy groups of children].  I was doing well, the emotions were under control after I had decided on the walk up that I would consider phoning the doctors tomorrow [it wouldn't do me any harm would it] but after about 10 minutes they resurfaced.  I cry a lot, but very rarely in front of people [other than the poor boyfriend who gets them far too often] because I have an outer shell that guards me from public breakdowns.  But today was too much for the shell to take and tears seeped through the cracks.  Luckily mother was on hand with much needed comforting words and cuddles... although the poor brother didn't do too well from it with her saying that he was a lucky one who could fall in crap and still come up smelling of roses with the job he got [I know parents aren't meant to favour their children but everyone knows they do, and generally my brains put me ahead of the brothers in the race for number 1 child in mother's eyes].  So once again she calmed me and set me to work installing Microsoft Word so that she could write a letter to her place of work on my behalf to request feedback [she is still furious and giving dirty looks to my evil interviewer on a daily basis] and then to use her secretarial skills to help me with future cover letters.</span></p> <p><span>But now I am home again, the father still hasn't returned.  But having given it thought, I am now in the angry stage of rejection, I am way better than them.  I would have loved the job, merely to say that I had a job and to feel like I am finally doing something with my life, like it finally got started... but in fairness their idea of good design was a flick in the bottom corner of the front page to make it look like the page was turned, which I personally thought was hideous [perhaps they saw the disgust in my eyes?].  I would have embraced the opportunity to work there and boost my CV but I </span><em><span>am</span></em><span> </span><span><span>better</span></span><span> than them.  They would have been lucky to have my creative skills.  Instead another company, with a much better eye for talent and design, shall enjoy my input [someday] and this one shall continue down the outdated cheap looking design road that it currently walks down.  But for now, I shall continue to shop at Spar and launch a boycott amongst my friends against the company [which I shall not name so that I don't get in to trouble].   Now that the anniversary present is complete I shall get back to work with the website, and appeal to EVERY single design company I can find.</span></p> <p><span>But for now I am going to catch up on my soaps and watch my new TV addiction 'The Rachel Zoe Project'.... maybe I should just go in to fashion with all my programme addictions and love of Glamour, they are filling my brain up with more knowledge than I ever thought possible</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 3<br>Note to self_ Stop being a depressive maniac and keep remembering the good things in life like the family and the boyfriend, and the few great friends who are always there<br></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/21/better-6154528/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-21:/2009/05/21/reason-6153564/victorialouise19862009-05-21T18:15:17+02:002009-05-21T18:15:17+02:00 <p><span>A year ago today I was in a crazy sleep-deprived emotional state.  I was in hysterics telling the head of interior design that I hated my work and thought it was awful.  He disagreed and sent me home to bed.  A year on, although not sleep deprived or stressed by final deadlines, I am in a crazy emotional state.  A year since my final ever university deadline I feel like I havn't moved on with my life at all.  I feel trapped and can see no way out.  But I was coping better with the day than I expected sat in an empty shop reading 1984 to pass the hours between rare customers.  Then I got home.  I never expect to get jobs, EVER.  But for some reason that never makes the rejection any easier to handle.  The optimist that is squashed way deep down inside me always tries to hope that maybe the next one might be the one, but then when it isn't the manic depressive loses all control and sends me in to an emotional frenzy.  </span><em><span>I hate my life.  Nothing ever goes right.  I'm NEVER going to get a job.  I can't see any way out of this dark tunnel, if there is a light at the end it must be night because I can't see anything.</span></em><span>  Mother turned in to a man... you know the type, offering suggestions opposed to sympathy like a woman is supposed to.  I am an intelligent girl, I know the suggestions.  Its not the suggestions that I want, or need.  I just want love and support, and nice ego-boosting comments [although preferrably not </span><em><span>Everything happens for a reason</span></em><span> because I am sick of that one, I am sick of this stupid reason that this keeps happening].  In all honesty, the job didn't particularly excite me.  I wasn't inspired by their design or the prospect of their hideous uniform.  But I was excited by the prospect of having a job, of finally feeling like my life was going somewhere and getting a step on the ladder.  In her attempt to calm me mother suggested a trip to the doctors, I can't imagine any mother wants to hear their child saying they hate life, but I'm still not convinced I want to go down the anti-depressants route.  I would rather get through it by myself, as hard as it is I can at least look back and know that I managed it myself... but at times like this I can't help but think that maybe a few happy pills wouldn't hurt.  So much for signs though... and faith?  The Big Man isn't doing a great job of keeping me in his flock, only the fear of not believing is keeping me at the moment.</span></p> <p><span>But I don't like to be seen as the depressive moaning type, even though I know at times I can be, so I'm going to think of something happy to say now.  Father is back from his holiday today, I barely see him about the house but I've been feeling incredibly lonely knowing that he won't be coming home each night.  Bit sad that I won't be able to free the dogs from their prison to sit and watch TV with me anymore though.</span></p> <p><span>New amusing addition to the same anniversary card story... we have the wrong cards.  When I went to read it last night for a reminder of his loving words I was faced with my own red handwriting, the silly boyfriend picked up the one with his own handwriting in to take home.  Silly silly.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 1<br>5-a-day?_ Success</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/21/reason-6153564/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-18:/2009/05/18/rainbow-6135585/victorialouise19862009-05-18T14:53:38+02:002009-05-18T14:53:38+02:00 <p><span>I'm sat at the boyfriend's computer with my heart pounding faster than I like... especially considering he isn't even here to cause the pounding.  Tomorrow I have an interview, and I think it is fair to say the nerves have just set in.  Well, the nerves have been coming on and off since I found out about the interview last Tuesday, but now they are definitely back.  I hate interviews... does anyone actually like them though?  I am scared of interviews for random jobs that I want just to keep me busy while I look for something better.  I am terrified of design jobs.  I am absolutely petrified of this one.  The interview is for a marketing assistant vacancy in the boyfriend's home time.  The mother had been telling me to see if I could find anything around here if I couldn't find anything at home so one day a couple of weeks ago I decided to just have a quick browse while I did my normal commutable searches.  This one particular job stood out; I've always liked the sound of a marketing career [when I say always, I mean this past year since the design thing hasn't been going so great] so I decided to apply for it.  I probably wouldn't get any further but at least I would feel like I have still been applying.  Last week I was offered an interview...... I keep trying to tell myself that they wouldn't have offered me an interview if they didn't think I'm suitable but I still can't see past the qualification issues.  Although many careers can be started with a degree, irrelevant of the subject studied, as an educationally focussed girl I can't see past my qualifications; regardless of my skills I lack the confidence without the official certificate to prove it.  So much so that I had questioned whether or not to even attend the interview; but who gains anything without trying?  And who can complain about being jobless if they don't at least try when they are offered the opportunity.a</span></p> <p><span>Despite my dependance on qualifications for confidence, I am a big believerin signs.  They help to boost me, even if momentarily, so that I have some self-belief.  I had no reason to believe that I would get an interview for this job; I have never applied for a marketing job before, and I have certainly never searched in the boyfriend's town for jobs through worrying that he might think I'm some sort of insane stalker trying to take his space away from him.  But regardless of these facts I got an interview.  I took this as sign number one.  But I am a worrier so this sign has fallen deep in to the abyss of my worried mind many times through the week.  On the drive here last night came sign number two.  A rainbow.  At first it was a faint incomplete one but as we got closer another one appeared, full and bright.  Crazy or not, as a religious girl I always take a rainbow as some sort of little sign from God, so two of them filled me with a happy sense of optimism.  But once again, with it being the day before the interview the uncontrollable nerves and rock-bottom self-confidence levels have returned.  I feel sick.  I feel shakey.  I occassionally have to resist the urge to cry through fear.  Tomorrow I shall just have to put my faith in fate and put on the cheery happy face that comes to me in interviews and rely on my natural skills opposed to my specific qualifications.</span></p> <p><span>In other news, yesterday I made the landmark 2 years with the boyfriend.  But is it weird to get each other identical cards?  Perhaps not... but is it weird when you got each other identical presents 6 months earlier too?  I like to think it is cute but can't help but wonder if he thinks it is a bit freaky and weird. </span></p> <p><span>But for now I must get on with my company research to help tame the nerves at least a little bit.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 0 [yet]</span></p> <p><span>"It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, 'Always do what you are afraid to do.'"_ Ralph Waldo Emerson</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/18/rainbow-6135585/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-13:/2009/05/13/scrambled-6109710/victorialouise19862009-05-13T18:05:44+02:002009-05-13T18:05:44+02:00 <p><span>"You look a bit pale and rough" was the greeting I got when I walked in to the mothers house last night.  What a polite greeting.  The step father isn't one to keep these opinions to himself.  He can spot a make-up free day a mile off.  Usually I'm just lacking in the foundation department... and my cheeks aren't as naturally rosy as I would like without the aid of blusher.  Last night was different though, not only did I look rough, I felt it too.  I don't get ill, my allergies drive me up the wall sometimes but a quick spray and I'm back to normal again.  The second mother realised that I am under the weather she ran to the kitchen cupboards, digging out every possible medicine out.  The motherly instinct kicks in at the slightest sight of a sneeze... although she seems to have lost track of my ageing process, still offers me calpol every time.  And then, with it being the second leg of the play-off dreams she began to drink.  After her first drink I went from having a bit of a cold, potentially mild flu, to being a swine flu risk... if I don't get better soon I need to get on the phone to the NHS.  I know nobody from Mexico, nobody who has been to Mexico, nobody who has been diagnosed with swine flu yet... wouldn't that just be super luck if I somehow caught it from some dirty air.  She will be blaming miasma and worrying that I have the plague next.  It makes a nice change from her standard 'look at the light' meningitis test though.  I blame the dirty step sister personally.  I have little contact with the outside world, the father himself said he thought I had become a bit of a recluse in recent weeks because I have been in my room a lot, so really the only person who could have brought such diseases in to the house is the dirty school child... she is ill herself, I'm not just placing blame on people I dislike.  Makes me glad I'm free from the germ infested classrooms of my youth because I'm not enjoying these few achey, sore days at all.  I fear that I may have caught a serious case of....... MAN FLU!!!  What better cure for illness than scrambled eggs though?  I love eggs... poached, boiled, occassionally fried, but I never have scrambled eggs.  Only when I'm ill do such cravings come to mind... perhaps it was mother brainwashing me as a child, or perhaps the easy protein is good for the fighting anti-bodies, either way I am fighting my way through this with scrambled eggs and Lemsip, I'll let you know if it works soon.</span></p> <p><span>Having lost my appetite through illness I decided to weigh myself today.  I weigh myself most days but I'm trying to cut back after the boyfriend said I have a disorder at weekend and my issues with the scales are a bit excessive in all honesty.  Today I weighed in at 11stone 13pounds!!!  Having been 9stone 7pounds on Monday this figure was slightly alarming... so I weighed myself again.  Fortunately I havn't been gaining weight at the rate of a stone a day, I'm not on my way to morbid obesity within the month, I am my normal weight... don't particularly trust the scales as much anymore though.</span></p> <p><span>I heard back from the Pension Centre last Thursday.  Surprise Surprise, I wasn't successful.  I kept this to myself though, hoping that maybe I would have more luck with the other position I went for... but I didn't hear back from that one.  It was an emotional day, there were lots of tears... but I didn't want  I broke the news to the boyfriend in an emotional state on Friday night.  I had no idea how to tell the mother the news.  Apparently she spoke to me over MSN to tell me to phone them and find out what is going on... I didn't see this because the kind, thoughtful boyfriend hid it from me.  Had to face her sometime.  She asked again on Saturday, but knowing I would burst in to tears at the mention of it I cleverly armed myself with the letter for her to read.  It would be fair to say that she was furious.  I was terrified to tell her after them joking that any idiot can do that job... well not this idiot was my thinking... well only idiots was her thinking.  It was nice that mother and the step father jumped to my defence and were furious but still doesn't help my confidence levels.  Must keep telling myself.... everything happens for a reason.  What the hell is the reason for all this?!?!! It's starting to get on my nerves now!  Possible interview next week so maybe thats the reason?  Who knows?</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ Several<br>5-a-day?_ Food in general is on the low at the moment<br>Chocolate_ 1 little bar to boost my mood</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/13/scrambled-6109710/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-02:/2009/05/02/herbal-6047723/victorialouise19862009-05-02T21:59:02+02:002009-05-02T21:59:02+02:00 <p><span>Ok, I admit it... I read the back of the shampoo bottle when I'm in the shower.  It passes the time while you wait to rinse, and they wouldn't put it there if it wasn't meant to be read would they?!</span></p> <p><span>However, I am now quite disturbed by Herbal Essences.  It wasn't enough that their ads involved a woman reaching the height of pleasure while she massages the shampoo in.  Although who can blame her, I come close to the occassional lesbian moment in the hairdressers when I get my hair washed, my head just loves to be touched... I do manage to control myself, I'm just saying its understandable.  But now even their bottles are turning in to sex frenzied marketing tools.  After the standard blurb about how good it is for your hair comes a little question... "What do women like light and frequent while men like it more strenuous?"  Want to know the answer, you have to buy the conditioner too... fortunately I wasn't left wondering what would be in store for me next time I visit Boots to find the answer.  The answer on the back of the conditioner bottle..."A kiss".  But then comes more filth, the conditioner bottle has it's own little question..."What occurs more in December than any other month?" with the answer back on the shampoo bottle.  The answer..."Conception"</span></p> <p><span>I don't know if I'm just being a prude but I just do not see the relevance of these questions to shampoo?  I want to wash my hair, not start imitating the commercial.  Is it suggesting that people with unclean hair aren't worthy of child-bearing?  Most of all though, I just didn't like the way it was rubbing in the fact that I have no boyfriend here to kiss.  I'm going back to my Dove shampoo!!!</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/herbal-6047723/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-05-02:/2009/05/02/blest-6047519/victorialouise19862009-05-02T21:08:38+02:002009-05-02T21:08:38+02:00 <p><span>I spent most of the day at the mothers house today.  The boyfriend is having a reunion with his university chums so his communication with me is rather limited.  I would never stop him spending time with friends, I refuse to be one of those psycho controlling girlfriends, but it doesn't mean I have to like my lonely time.  So I spend as much time up at the mothers house as possible.  This house may have its advantages being a mini-mansion with my bedroom hidden away at the top of the tower away from the scummy step family, but it is a lonely place, so when I am feeling down or alone I much prefer the little house up the road.   Before I even got through the door mother told me to say hello to our guest, I was so confused... although a little hope was burning within me that we were babysitting a dog for someone.  So, it would be fair to say that I was disappointed when I wasn't greeted by a friendly barking face.  I wasn't greeted by anyone, or anything.  Is mother losing her marbles?  She was drunkenly telling me that she saw my great grandma the other night, the alcohol infused state made me doubtful of her ramblings, so I wondered if maybe she was referring to her ghostly visit.  I wish she was.  Instead, I was greeted by a box.  The only other box that has greeted me was a few years ago.  My beautiful dalmatian as nothing more than ashes, there was some pink in the mix too, do they add confetti to cheer it up a bit?  So when I realised just who the visitor was I shut down.  I shuddered at the thought of the realisation of my great grandma being nothing more than ashes [and confetti?] and refused to acknowledge it as anything more than just a random box in the corner.  I'm still not sure if I have to come terms with the fact that she is gone,  but regardless, I could not let myself accept the box as anything more than a box, I just can't go through it again.</span></p> <p><strong><span>"But I can say with all my ups and downs, I have been blest and I do think if we only look back the way we have been led, there is much to be thankful for, and so many things have happened in my life that are really worth taking note of, and do hope they will encourage all who may read them, and bear in mind that in the darkest hour there is a silver lining, and always something to be thankful for"_ Mrs Crowther.</span></strong><span>  Lots of historic gems have come from cleaning out my great grandma's house.  The history fanatic within me has been loving it.  From my great grandad's wartime recipe book to my great great grandads school certificate, I have been in history heaven.  But today has given me my favourite gem so far.  Who needs quotations from famous people when you have such special ones from your ancestors.  It was only four pages long but I could hardly sit still as I read through my great great great grandma's [is that right? my great grandma's grandma...] autobiographical account of her life.  I moan and I whinge that I can't find a job a year after I have graduated, while this lady lost her eye in a shuttle accident in a mill when she was only 25 [a week before she was supposed to get married I might add!] but still didn't seem to complain. Instead she appeared grateful that she at least managed to keep the sight in her other eye and got married 3 months later.  I do wonder to myself a lot why people today are so selfish and very rarely grateful for the good things in their lives.  I hate that I am one of those people, the fact that even though I recognise that there is </span><em><span>always something to be thankful for</span></em><span> I still can't help but whinge about what I don't have instead of just being happy for everything I do have.  I've written down that quote from the super great grandma as a reminder to myself to be more grateful and patient with life... everything happens in time.</span></p> <p><span>That's enough of the deep and meaningfuls, I had an appointment with the nurse on Thursday.  I already got my repeat prescription but I made my appointment 3 weeks ago and I didn't want to become just another 'missed appointment' statistic, a number in the waiting room to shame those people who have wasted precious time that could have been used on another patient.  Yes, I am a goody two shoes!  I had already become quite obsessive with my food and exercise since a bit of water retention the other week fooled me in to believing I had become a big bloated bear who was eating far too much.  But I was still my normal 9 and a half stone so nothing too serious to worry about, I was even happy to tell the nurse when she asked me... that was until she told me that my last weigh-in in October I had been 57kgs.  I took a note of this number to convert it the second I left because apparently now I am 60kgs, which normally I would have been amazed by... until I discovered that before father bought the bathroom scales, I was under 9 stone!!!  I thought I was 10 stone, I thought I had lost half a stone, not gained it.  I didn't think my body had even been under 9 stone since I was a schoolgirl.  The anorexic within me was ANGRY.  And so the food obsession is on, hopefully it will only last a week or two and then I will return to my happy 60kg state.</span></p> <p><span>And now back to work on the boyfriend's 2 year anniversary present, I have been working on it for a week and still I am only half way in to it.  He had better like it!  On the bright side of not getting to see him this weekend, I get him for 3 weekends in a row in May, I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet!!!</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 4<br>Tears_3<br>5-a-day?_ Slacking a bit<br>Chocolate_ Who knew how much fat was in Chocolate Buttons... shocking!!!</span></p> <p><span>ps - I know it is spelt 'blessed' - I despise wrong spelling and don't want to be accused of it but mother says it is Victorian spelling so who am I to argue?</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/blest-6047519/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-04-21:/2009/04/21/chat-5984426/victorialouise19862009-04-21T22:00:27+02:002009-04-21T22:50:31+02:00 <p><span>Last night I sat reading my book, taking in the fresh smell of grass and generally enjoying the evening air.  Five minutes later I was surround by overweight abusive hooligans.  I was sat in a dangerous position behind the net at Turf Moor, the football ground of my wonderful home team.  I didn't particularly want to go, the little brother accuses me of being a jinx, and facing a team higher up in the league than us didn't fill me with confidence that I would be able to shake off this claim.  But I did.  It wasn't the most exciting game I've ever seen, there were moments when I could have happily got my book back out of my bag, but I will take a vital win over excitement any day.  With the score remaining 1-0 for 70 minutes I was in neverending fear of a Sheffield comeback.  My main observation of the night, other than one regarding the <a title="Carlisle" href="http://d.yimg.com/eur.yimg.com/ng/sp/empics/20090308/13/3072461245-soccer-fa-cup-fifth-round-arsenal-v-burnley-emirates-stadium.jpg">good looks of a player</a> I hadn't noticed before, was of the disgusting language and behaviour of football fans. I was never very good with English at school but from what I remember a sentence requires a noun and a verb (am I right?) however in the local schools of Burnley it is also necessary to include expetives.  A sentence is not a sentence without one.  Now I am willing to admit, although terribly ashamed to say, that I used to have a bit of a potty mouth myself.  I could manage to get through a paragraph without swearing but every now and again it would unnecessarily slip in.  The boyfriend informed me that this was not ladylike at all, and since then I have reformed my language and find any sort of swearing disgusting.  Especially when I am sat with an 11 year old boy.  My other observation was the waistlines of these vile men.  I'm not going to lie, I'm not a big fan of fat people.  As a size 12 girl with seriously twisted self-image issues I can be rather judgemental about those people in society who are overweight, but this was not my problem with them.  Now, it did strike me as odd that a referee who has to run around so much could have such an oversized stomach, but for the fat pots in the crowd to be calling the oversized kettle a "fat b* * * * *d" did confuse me. </span></p> <p><span>Today, I became a grown-up.  I have had many moments in my life where I have considered myself a real proper grown-up.  Today I had a new one.  I have waited years for it.  A good hairdresser is hard to find.  A hairdresser that really understands your needs.  A hairdresser that doesn't cut your hair so short you consider legal action.  A hairdresser that doesn't cut your hair so short that you get likened to Alan Shearer and have to wear a hat for a week (this one not a personal experience).  I have found my hairdresser.  And today, on my fourth visit to her I became a woman.  Not only did she remember who I was from my last visit, my first happy moment of the day, but then I lived the hairdresser dream, I had a long conversation with her.  Not the usual "going on holiday?" question while the hairdryer is making it impossible for me to talk.  I had a full conversation about relationships, family and local schools [and the weather, of course].  My hair doesn't look much different, but this is better than a scissor happy chop fest so I won't complain.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 2<br>Tears_ 1<br>5-a-day?_ Still a smoothie queen<br>Chocolate_ Need a new reason to give up the evil temptress</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/04/21/chat-5984426/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-04-16:/2009/04/16/what-do-you-doodle-i-doodle-hearts-and-sometimes-flowers-5954096/victorialouise19862009-04-16T13:06:16+02:002009-04-16T13:34:36+02:00 <p><span>What do you doodle?  I doodle hearts, and sometimes flowers.  I would assume this is a sign of the happy, optimistic romantic within me.  I used to just write my name.  In year 7 I remember being told that this was a sign of a narcisstic personality.  I went to my great grandma's house last night.  Walking up the driveway I was still expecting her to just be sat, more than likely dozing off while wathing countdown, in her chair.  The house is almost empty.  The furniture is slowly but surely being removed and the living room is just littered with piles of clutter.  Even in this state, it is STILL not real.  She is in hospital.  She is moving house.  My mind is happy to accept any possibility but the truth.  I still felt like she was there.  Scattered around the clutter was my name.  An empty notebook with a page of tea break requests in the back and </span><em><span>6th June 1994 Victoria</span></em><span> in the front.  A colouring book with the occassional scribble by the brother, and maths questions and my name in the front page.  I like my name.  I have had it drilled in to me that I was christened Victoria, not Vicky, from a very young age.  I don't mind Tori.  I do NOT like Vic or Vicky.  Perhaps my name does give my personality a narcisstic element, not only did I write it everywhere when I was young, but even now I feel that being a Victoria makes me just that bit better than a Vicky.  Its much more proper and classy than a shortened version.  I may be a pain, I know it is a mouthful, but its my name.  I got myself some more keepsakes last night.  I was happy with just the thimble.  But last night I felt overwhelmed by a need to keep as many things of hers as I could.  Its only stuff.  My memories aren't part of a rocking chair ornament, or hand painted plates, but I just couldn't help myself.  I drew the line at the pallet knife she used to ice cakes but it did hurt me to see it go to someone who would see it as just an icing knife opposed to the knife that she used every Christmas when she filled her days with baking.</span></p> <p><span>Mother told me yesterday that they have finished interviewing so I should know sometime soon.  I can't help but be filled with negativity though.  The longer unemployment drags on, the more I doubt myself and my skills.  I certainly do not possess self loving narcissm in that aspect of my life.</span></p> <p><span>It is the best friend's birthday today.  I had totally forgotten until she invited me for a meal at the start of the week.  It would be forgivable with other people, I am amazing at remembering birthdays but I am no human calendar.  She is called April though, there really is no excuse for forgetting the birthday of someone named after the month.  Should hopefully be nice to get out of the house tonight though and feel a bit less like a recluse.  And what girl wouldn't look forward to a night of cocktails?</span></p> <p>"All of these are names given me by other people, but not names I would have given myself.  My name is not mine, it's theirs.  It's a series of costumes put on my life by other people."_ Robert Fulghum</p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 1<br>5-a-day?_ Success!<br>Chocolate_ Another 1/2 egg down</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/04/16/what-do-you-doodle-i-doodle-hearts-and-sometimes-flowers-5954096/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-04-15:/2009/04/15/wall-5949246/victorialouise19862009-04-15T16:16:42+02:002009-04-15T16:16:42+02:00 <p><span>I sleep against the wall.  I have a single bed positioned next to a wall but I go to the extreme of sleeping so close to the wall that if I kiss someone in a dream, I may physically kiss the wall [I would hope not, but it is a possibility].  I used to sleep on the outside of the bed, I like to be able to just get up for the toilet without having to clamber about like a disorientated monkey but the boyfriend got a bad back so I was moved to the wall side so that he can hang his legs out of the bed like a foetus.  I used to be glad to get the whole bed back to myself when he went home, it is after all only a single bed, but recently I have noticed that I retain the wall hugging position.  Does it comfort me to feel like he is still here, or do I just like the coldness of the wall to keep me cool while I can still snuggle up warm in my duvet?  A nice mix of the two I think.</span></p> <p><span>So, Easter is over.  Chocolate is my </span><span><span>friend</span></span><span> enemy again.  I stayed strong for 40 days, the boyfriend even suggested I keep it going for longer, I lasted so long, why give in now?  My excuse... Easter Sunday is the end of Lent, the celebration of Jesus rising again, I really had no choice but to eat chocolate.  And besides, if I let it go on longer I would ultimately feel like a failure when I did inevitably give in, at least this way I was allowed a guilt-free out.  Chocolate is over rated, I no longer crave it as much... But I had three damn eggs to get through so in my mission to get through them I feel like a greedy, fat, gross, disgusting pig.  It has brought back some emotion to my life though, it would seem chocolate really does give you a boost.  And with the boost came hormones... I blamed the chocolate at first, randomly feared with happiness had to come sadness and then I realised it was that bluddy time of month again.  It sneaked up on me this time, my chocolate countdown distracted me from the evening primrose oil preparation.</span></p> <p><span>Got a long weekend with the boyfriend for the first time in months.  So on Saturday we went to Alton Towers for the first time together.  I have resisted for a long time after horror stories from a friend of the Alton Towers curse, many couples have been known to break up after this outing.  The curse really shouldn't have been my worry, the brothers rally driving on small country roads should have been my main concern.  The weekend went just as fast as any normal weekend so before I knew it I was alone again suppressing the hormones that crept up on me from nowhere, I did get to enjoy my final few episodes of Criminal Minds though.  Now what TV show to become addicted to next?</span></p> <p><span>"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles"_ Charles Chaplin</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 1<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Smoothie addicted<br>Chocolate_ 2 eggs down, 1 to go</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/04/15/wall-5949246/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-04-04:/2009/04/04/like-5890253/victorialouise19862009-04-04T19:40:19+02:002009-04-04T20:23:38+02:00 <p><span>"In three words I can sum up everything I've learnt about life.  It goes on."_ Robert Frost.</span></p> <p><span>So today was interview day.  If it is true that when some people are nervous they talk a lot more than normal then I think it is safe to say that mother was much more nervous than I was.  I don't think her apparent state of mind in the car helped me.  Now I don't believe it went badly, but at the same time I honestly couldn't tell you how it went.  It was the interview of nightmares... awkward, uncomfortable and beyond formal.  I don't know anyone who enjoys interviews, but there are some that are actually rather pleasant experiences.  This was not one of those.  Nothing wrong with the people, they seemed lovely but the set-up did not agree with me... even with the inside help of mother who basically handed me the job on a plate with the questions she practiced with me, I simply did not feel comfortable.  Not a chatty style with questions bouncing off the previous answer.  Not even a 'tell me about yourself' question.  Just a collection of unrelated topics with set questions on previous experiences.  I hate situational questions.  I hate the feeling that I am rambling on about making a kite when I should be rambling on about something else.  There is no right or wrong answer... well this can't be true as mother tells me many people have already failed the interview stage.  I think I may have preferred chinese water torture... whoever has the greatest staying power gets the job.  About half way through answer number two I noticed one of the biggest flaws in communication I possess. LIKE.  Not I </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> chocolate and I </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> puppys.  No, more like this "So </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> what I did </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> was to </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> do this and then </span><em><span>like</span></em><span> this happened,  I think it went well </span><em><span>like</span></em><span>"  Under pressure or just a general personal flaw I do not know, but I almost lost my trail of thought in my realisation of my excessive use of the word like.   But maybe they didn't notice........</span></p> <p><span>Grand national day.  The step father bets on the horses on almost a daily basis [a gambling addict or just a bored pensioner, you decide] so when it comes to such an important event we are disowned if we do not choose a horse.  I am no horse expert so I use the girly method of favourite outfit to choose my horse.  I went with Rambling Minster, probably something within me felt the name also resembled my interview technique this morning of rambling on and on about playing bingo with old people and making chocolate krispies with children as if </span><em><span>that</span></em><span> is going to get me a job.  I don't even remember hearing my horses name until the slow motion replay after the race to note where horses fell... apparently mine just gave up around fence 19.  After fence 5 when I realised mine, 3rd favourite, had no chance I gave up really watching the race and instead just watched the adorable horses that had fallen but had got back up and carried on the race without their jockey.  Determined to win no matter what.  More admirable than the quitter that I backed.  Or perhaps they were just trying to escape, on a bid for freedom from a life of racing and whips.</span></p> <p><span>Quite an uneventful weekend so far, and with no plans for tomorrow I don't have expectations of excitement and adventure.  Perhaps a bath and early night with [yes, you guessed it] Criminal Minds.  I watched a documentary about the hunt for the Yorkshire Ripper today so i think it is fair to say that if any reports of serial killers enter the news it may be wise to send them in my direction... either because I am becoming a fully trained detective or because excessive crime dramas and a mental breakdown has led to me going on a killing spree with all the killing methods I have learnt.</span></p> <p><span>But for now... I have this months Glamour to absorb</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Interviews_ 1<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Oops<br>Chocolate_ 0</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/04/04/like-5890253/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-04-03:/2009/04/03/squirrel-5883896/victorialouise19862009-04-03T15:13:46+02:002009-04-03T15:13:46+02:00 <p><span>You would be forgiven for believing I havn't blogged because I have got myself a life.  Unfortunately, the opposite is true.  My life is currently so empty that I have had nothing to write about.  But the sun has been shining so I have been feeling pretty happy and upbeat.  Today I even got out my sunglasses.  I didn't wear them because it wasn't quite sunny enough to wear them without looking like a poser.  But they are out and ready for another day.</span></p> <p><span>It is a boyfriend free weekend, boooo!  But I have an interview tomorrow so I have my distractions.  It would be fair to say I'm rather nervous.  Giving advice to pensioners is hardly my dream job but I desperately need some sort of income before the savings account runs out and I have to revert to the childhood ways of asking the parents for money to buy something as small as a chocolate bar [because I can eat them again in just over a week!].  I am more than capable of doing the job, I do not doubt this.  But I am competing against hundreds.  Hopefully hundreds of people who aren't capable but how am I to know this is true?  In light of this terrifying competition, and happy sunshine rays, I have spent my week applying for lots of local jobs.  I have become blind to the word 'experience' if I believe I can do the job.  With one advert requesting a typing speed of at least 35wpm when mine is 60wpm and general abilities a trained monkey could do I decided to apply without experience.  If nothing else, at least I could annoy the idiot who advertised such a basic job as needing experience by wasting their time.  I got a phone call 10 minutes later saying I had passed the initial recruitment screening and my CV would be passed on to the employer.  Experience is no longer a word in my vocabulary.</span></p> <p><span>To enjoy the beautiful shining sun before the rain undoubtedly returns I decided to take the dogs for a walk today.  The trees are still bare, not even a slight sign of blossom.  But the daffodils are sprouting up and blossoming more every time I visit, unfortunately for the poor flowers the dogs seem to love marking their territory on them so I fear for their long term survival.  The squirrels were out to play and as I was sat on a bench enjoying the quiet and the sound of birds singing while Corrie rolled around determined to return home black, along came a chav!  I like the fact that I can personalise my phone with the ringtone of my choice.  I do not enjoy the fact that phones have become such popular methods of music players.  Gone are the days when you merely had to hear a muffled sound of loud music from headphones, now you are forced to listen to the tinny noise of their MCing tunes blasting out from their phones as they walk down the street.  I may sound old beyond my years, moaning like a pensioner when I am still only 22 but "back in my day" only really around 2002, it was a blessing to have a phone with a composer so that you could hunt the internet for the keys that make up the tune of your favourite song, and you could stroll the streets listening to music without being a complete nuisance [well, the cool kids could, I've always kept my music at a reasonable level so that I don't go deaf before I'm 30].  And then I feared for my safetywhen Corrie started barking at another group of chavs, we walked swiftly past them to avoid confrontation.  Ever since I was called "the swot in a BRGS uniform" walking home when I was 15 I have avoided eye contact with the tracksuit wearing thugs of the town.</span></p> <p><span>But, I am only 22 so lets try and regain a bit of coolness from that rant.  Well, in all honesty I don't think I can.  I am sat here with a towel on my head from washing my hair and I am getting excited about watching my next episode of Criminal Minds that has just finished downloading.  I am a nerd.  I've never been particularly cool.  But I like who I am.  And I have a boyfriend who likes who I am, even though I do feel he is sometimes embarrassed by my nerdish tendencies.  Life is good.  Anyone that doubts the existence of SAD or the happy power of the sun really needs to compare my winter blogs to my current happy state.  Nothing in my life has changed.  But I feel happier and more content... maybe doesn't help that I have shut down since the death of my great grandma but that is irrelevant.  I love the sun!</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 7<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Success!<br>Chocolate_ 0</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/04/03/squirrel-5883896/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-29:/2009/03/29/snowshine-5855861/victorialouise19862009-03-29T22:17:29+02:002009-03-29T22:17:29+02:00 <p><span>Its been another boyfriend weekend, but now I'm sat here alone watching a Jade tribute program on Living with organic greek style honey yogurt and caramel snack-a-jacks.  I can't say I'm a big fan of the Princess Diana style "a country mourns" tribute magazines but there isn't really anything else on TV and you can't say she isn't entertaining.  And if I'm honest, it beats </span><em><span>BNP Wives</span></em><span> that I was watching with the boyfriend last night when we failed to find anything else.</span></p> <p><span>I have a 2 week wait for the boyfriend this time, booo!  But it will be Easter weekend so its a long weekend. A long weekend that I can binge on chocolate!  The supermarket shelves are filling up with eggs, HUGE eggs.  The temptation is becoming unbearable.  And my excitement is heightening but I still have quite a wait until I get my fix... I've never known time go so fast yet so slow!</span></p> <p><span>The weekend started with a test.  After the mother filled in an application form for the place she works for me I got a letter on Tuesday inviting me to stage 2 of the recruitment process, a basic maths and english test.  So I left the boyfriend with the brother and father on Saturday morning and off I went to sit my exams.  I passed a grammar school exam when I was 11 years old, I kicked arse in my GCSEs and A Levels, but I was still insanely nervous that I might fail.  I passed!  But if I'm honest, I don't think anyone failed.  Hundreds of people made it through to the testing stage but with a pass rate of 50% and a test that the eleven year old brother could do, very few people failed. How anyone failed I do not know!  The woman next to me circled answers at random when time ran out and she passed.  Now if I was in charge things would be different... firstly the scruffs that turned up in jeans would be turned away on entering the building, it may not be an interview but first impressions and effort people!!! Secondly, the test would not be multiple choice.  It would not be possible to get a job through lucky guesses.  Now, with my methods, we would be down from hundreds to possibly a hundred or maybe even less.  My chances through intelligence and effort would have been recognised, but instead I'm still competing idiots and scruffs.  Now, I wouldn't worry if mother wasn't constantly talking about idiots who work there, clearly these people slip through the net so I am no more confident of my chances than I was before the test.  Even less so having seen the volume of people and success rates!</span></p> <p><span>Saturday night was ended with sore cheeks from excessive laughing.  Starting at 5 with a trip to mothers to observe a night of drinking.  Mother appeared to have started early, much more chatty than normal... starting by renaming the boyfriend Steve because of his middle name and then Shiny Chef or something bizarre.  Randomly shouting out Rich from nowhere to see how this went down, and then returning back to Shiny Chef.  She went on to chat much junk and nonsense for the next 4 hours.  Hilarious it may be but your mother referring to your boyfriend as her potential son-in-law and the brother's potential brother-in-law is not the best way to guarantee this happening, if anything I fear she may scare him away... especially when she follows this with questions about my menstrual cycle!  She finished with a declaration of my great grandads psychic abilities and her theories that they may have been passed down to me... why?  Because I have dreamt about my great grandad and grandma recently.  Although I had questioned the appearance of the great grandad in a dream I had put it down to the recent loss and excessive thoughts about the great grandma, I certainly hadn't contemplated my psychic abilities.  But if it helps the mother then she may think of it what she likes.  Who knows?  Who will ever really know?  </span></p> <p><span>Last night it snowed!</span></p> <p><span>The boyfriend asked if we could go to Alton Towers last night.  No, its snowing!  Today, it was unbelievably sunny and warm!  How does it switch from winter to summer overnight??? Alton Towers would have been fun.  But we had our regular outing to Asda and dog walking fun so I'm not complaining.</span></p> <p><span>But for now, that is it.  This week I will hopfully get back in to my exercising, I've got the chocolate free, 5-a-day lifestyle down so now just to get back to fitness.  I feel like a big blobby seal and sitting about watching excessive amounts of Criminal Minds isn't going to tone me.  Wish me luck!  Or just give me a good talking to if I don't show any signs of an active lifestyle this week, I respond to disciplining.  I fear it.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 0<br>Chocolate_ 0<br></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/29/snowshine-5855861/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-23:/2009/03/24/clouds-5817426/victorialouise19862009-03-24T00:36:48+01:002009-03-24T00:36:48+01:00 <p><span>Another weekend gone!  Where?  I do not know.  It was a boyfriend weekend so 2 days went by like 2 hours.  I'm starting to wonder if maybe he lives in a different time speed continuum or something scientific/nerdy make-believe like that.  Along with the time, I am questioning where the nice weather went.  A week of beautiful warm sunshine and early morning dog walks, a weekend of dark clouds and cold breezes.  Fortunately, the weather stayed on side for the essential hours of Saturday which were spent up high in the clouds of Pendle Hill watching human kites paragliding about and avoiding piles and piles of sheep droppings.  The clouds returned to the lower altitudes of Burnley with us and haunted us for the remainder of the weekend.  Saturday night was finished off with some beverages with the brother and his friends, getting drunk with games and then reminiscing and declaring my undying love for the brother when he feared he was on the brink of death after making himself sick.  I wasn't entirely sure of his logic, he feared that throwing up naturally and forcing it were polar opposites, the latter resulting in death somehow, the reassurance I offered wasn't enough to convince him to drink again but it was a lovely bonding experience with the little brother.  And then we killed the party by going home, it would be nothing without us after all.  I'm not quite sure where Sunday went at all, a day of pets and football but how the hours passed by so quickly I do not know.  But on the bright side, I get to have the boyfriend all over again next weekend </span><span><img src="http://www.blog.co.uk/image/smileys/05biggrin.gif" alt=""></span></p> <p><span>Is my motivation back?  No.  I'm finding it hard to bounce back from the most recent rejection.  Making the final two proved to be a confidence booster and killer all at the same time... I made final two, I'm ace but at the same time I didn't get it so what next?  Well today I had a sign.  With the iTunes on random I heard </span><em><span>If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place, Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A Change</span></em><span> [answers on a SAE for those geeks who recognise it] and decided to take action.  I had the thought before Christmas but got all caught up in the festive season and sidelined it, but today I decided to take action.  Charity work...  I'm far too poor to be saving the world like a saint though, I'm applying for paying charity jobs.  Who knew that those annoying gits on the street actually get paid for it, well if I can't afford to give in to them then why not apply for jobs to become one of them.  As a nerdy volunteering teenager I have plenty of charitable acts on my CV, and in all honesty, no design-free jobs have taken my interest like charity work.  I don't know if its my church upbringing, or just my caring nature, but I have always enjoyed helping people less fortunate so lets see where it goes.....</span></p> <p><span>I read yesterday that because Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday is technically 46 days, Sundays are free-days... not what I wanted to read 3 and a half weeks in.  I told the boyfriend and he likened it to a diet having free days to avoid temptation and bingeing.  I found a loop-hole for my chocolate, and I found it on a loop-hole day!  But I stayed strong.  I have lasted 26 days without.  I have stayed strong in my self-denial for more than half of Lent. I'm not giving up now.  And where is the real self-denial and testing if you give up once a week?  Dirty cheats!  I am going to kick Lent's arse.... and then binge on Easter Eggs until I throw up </span><span><img src="http://www.blog.co.uk/image/smileys/06razz.gif" alt=""></span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 1<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Success<br>Chocolate_ 0<br></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/24/clouds-5817426/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-18:/2009/03/18/i-could-have-easily-believed-i-was-reliving-tuesday-today-5784593/victorialouise19862009-03-18T23:28:23+01:002009-03-19T00:23:52+01:00 <p><span>I could have easily believed I was reliving Tuesday today, stuck in my own little Groundhog Day scenario.  I woke up to the sun shining again and made my way in to town for an appointment with a recruitment company.  However, this is where the similarity ends.  I strolled down at about 2 taking in the beautiful warm sunshine, taking a moment to allow myself to believe that it would stay like this forever, before reminding myself it is only mid-March so chances are there is plenty more rain to come yet.  I walked past the cinema where I saw a young couple embracing next to the huge silver pillar and remembered back to when a trip to the cinema with a boy was a huge thing and hugging outside while you wait for the parents to pick you up was the ultimate sign of your attraction to each other.  I reached town with just 5 minutes to spare so had no need to wander around waiting for an acceptable rate of earliness to arrive.  Despite being told by a friend that during a phonecall to him he overheard background conversations of dildos, and my own experience of the dizzy girl who couldn't even find my correct details in the system on the phone, I stayed positive and hopeful of what they could offer me.  Yesterday went well, an intelligent woman who appeared to have an ounce of a brain and understanding.  Today not so much.  Certainly no deja-vu.  I was greeted by the dizzy girl from the phonecall and given two, almost identical, forms to fill in with all the same details as I provided online.  After I had been shut in a room to complete them alone I got to see a man about training.  Apparently I wasn't here to get a job, I was here to get them government funding.  As with the job centre, I had to politely explain that I need no further qualifications, I have them coming out of my ears, I simply need someone to give me a chance.  And more importantly in the short term, for one of these recruitment companies to help me find some temp work to line my pockets and entertain my brain.  So, besides purchasing a mothers day present, today wasn't an overly productive trip to town.  Although I did walk home in the scorching heat [yes I cannot wait for summer but if I thought today's temperatures were scorching how will I cope with real heat?] so felt proud of myself for 2 days of extra exercise in my walks home as I have become quite a sloth of recent and although probably no different to normal my body image has slipped and I feel my mirror is projecting a blob back to me.</span></p> <p><span>I realised last night that I have only just reached the half way stage of lent.  If I do not get in to heaven after this then the devil had better watch his back because I will be taking over as God's arch-nemesis [although for the sake of my bid to get in to heaven I wish to state this is merely a joke... I don't even really believe in the devil].  I am not even a true chocolate addict.  I do enjoy it, its creamy niceness melting in my mouth, but I can live without it.  As long as it isn't around.  Which unfortunately in my house is unavoidable.  We have a cupboard full.  Knowing that it is so close is my main problem.  And like anyone, I always want what I can't have.  I want sunshine in winter, then I want cooling rain in summer.  I want more uni coursework, yet when I had it I just wanted a nice rest from it where I could do nothing.  I even discovered my love for the boyfriend a few weeks before he was due to leave Lincoln, and my life, for good... luckily that one had a happy ending and I still want him just as much 22 months [and a day] later.  Oh, did I also ever mention that I want a job?  Must get back to motivation and back to the search tomorrow after my mental health break, treat some recruiters to my fresh covering letter.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Success<br>Chocolate_ 0<br>Music Played to Death_ Lady Gaga<br>Lyric_ Lets have some fun, this beat is sick, <em><span>I wanna take a ride on your disco stick</span></em></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/18/i-could-have-easily-believed-i-was-reliving-tuesday-today-5784593/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-17:/2009/03/17/nightmare-5776125/victorialouise19862009-03-17T17:45:40+01:002009-03-17T17:45:40+01:00 <p><span>Spring is upon us it would seem.  I am still in doubt though as I am yet to see any springs... I'm starting to think that perhaps father just planted them each year because I've seen lambs, I've ventured out without thick socks and boots, and I even have my washing out on the line today so I think it is safe to say that it is Spring.  I have lost my motivation in life recently, I have taken a few negative knocks and I'm finding it hard to bounce back so I'm hoping that some sunny rays [and evening primrose oil] might boost me a bit.  If not, then Michael Jackson's Earth Song blasting out of my speakers at the moment might make me pause for a second to appreciate the world, and life in general, a bit more.  I'm not going to see him live like every other person in the country seems to be doing, I cannot stand Thriller so I feel that despising such a 'classic' is not the sign of a true fan so I shall just keep repeating Man in the Mirror to myself in my bedroom.</span></p> <p><span>I have a new addiction.  Not so much new, I have been a fan for quite some time but the obsessive tendencies towards it have escalated.  The result... nightmares.  You wouldn't know from looking at me, or from my apparent hate and fear of horror movies, but I have a secret love of crime dramas... Criminal Minds being my drug of choice.  I went through a phase with Law and Order, never really been keen on CSI, but Criminal Minds really has my heart.  So much so that I was far too excited by the new series to wait a week between viewings, instead I downloaded them to watch in the comfort of my bed.  They have replaced my nightly viewing of Scrubs but I fear they may have to be watched in the daytime now as I have started having nightmares.  I woke up last night terrified, I was close to turning the light on to calm myself down but I counted some sheep and tried to think of every nice thing I could to distract my active mind.  It is starting to take over my nightly thoughts, I feel like a child again... bumps in the night, paranoia about letting my legs stray over the side of the bed.  Unfortunately, I fear this is an addiction I must see through to the end, it is one I just cannot break.  I am a secret crime drama nerd.</span></p> <p><span>With the loss of motivation in life I havn't done a great deal recently.  I tucked up nice and early on Saturday night, I did go for a meal with the brother but a stomach upset [I blame the free salad] cut the night short so I was in bed at 10pm... on a Saturday!!! What has happened to me?  I did have several episodes of Criminal Minds to keep my company but as we have already establised, that is not so good for me.  Went for a family trip to the Yorkshire dales on Sunday, spent about an hour enjoying nature skimming stones with the brother, and laughing at the little brother who wondered why throwing his boulders up high wasn't working like ours were, and spent about 2 hours sat in a car suffering extreme car sickness.  Fortunately the happy hour of nature stands out in my memory.  Today I enjoyed the weather again with a trip in to town.  First to go see a recruitment lady to get back to my nagging for temp work and then for a stroll through town to remind myself why I need a job... I have NO money.  Hopefully with regular sunshine [and watering] my four leaf clovers will fill me to bursting with luck.  Or fate will just get its act together and remember that I'm still here waiting.  And if not, I have another appointment with another recruitment agency tomorrow.</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 0<br>Chocolate_ 0... is it Easter yet?!?!!<br></span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/17/nightmare-5776125/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-13:/2009/03/13/fire-5750753/victorialouise19862009-03-13T16:29:22+01:002009-03-13T16:32:23+01:00 <p><span>I did write a blog on Wednesday, but then I stopped and deleted it.  Writing down my feelings was enough.  Sharing it with strangers felt like too much.  I have been feeling quite numb.  Not happy, not sad, but not that nothing feeling of boredom.  Just numb.  I feel trapped in denial still, but my heart and mind have put up shields to protect themselves from the hurt of realisation.  All I will say about Wednesday is that I finally understand why people say services are beautiful.  How can a funeral be a beautiful service?  By stopping your tears, even if for only a minute, to just smile and remember how amazing they were and how they changed your life in a way no-one else ever could.  I don't know when it will sink in but until then I am keeping my shield up and trying to live by her example... be grateful for all life gives you, and </span><em><span>always</span></em><span> have nice hair!</span></p> <p><span>Today, I lit my first fire.  Get me a cave, I'm ready to live as a prehistoric cave girl.  We have a coal burning fire in the kitchen, which I have tried and tried to light but always failed.  A few pieces of paper is the best I have ever managed.  I have no idea how forest fires start because I can't even get a small piece of wood to burn!  Last week I asked the father to draw me a diagram of what to do.  I tried out the technique.  I failed.  I followed his sketch, but he is no artist!  So I watched him repair my awful attempt.  Today, I tried it myself.  It worked.  I set a fire, it was a proud moment.  Not sure if it is still going.  It seemed to be fading when I last checked, but at least I managed to get the wood to light this time, perhaps it will take a few more attempts to get the coal going.  But it's ok, cavemen only used wood didn't they?  So as long as I can do the basics I am ok living in a cave.... as long as I have a lighter, I'm not rubbing sticks together!</span></p> <p><span>The fringe is proving a blessing and a curse all in one.  It covers the eyebrows so they require less maintenance.  But I hate messy eyebrows so I can't just leave them to turn in to turn in to full on living creatures above my eyes.  The fringe leads me to forget about them sometimes so when I do come to sort them, it is quite a mission.  Today, was that day.  Not terrible, I don't want people thinking I am some disgusting hairy monster with eyebrows starting to blend in,and take over my fringe, but there were more stray hairs than I ordinarily like.  They feel so fresh now.  But I would like to argue that while childbirth may be terrible, taking tweezers to yourself and causing such pain is a close second.  Men don't leave theirs because it is more manly, they just couldn't stand the regular pain of it if they tried!  But I repeat, mine are beautifully preened and arched again now, I am no skank!</span></p> <p><span>The 3rd clover is really taking off now, I can see three little leaves coming out. What will my next piece of luck bring?</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 1<br>Tears_ 0<br>Chocolate_ 0</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/13/fire-5750753/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-10:/2009/03/10/deflated-5732186/victorialouise19862009-03-10T19:21:12+01:002009-03-10T19:43:54+01:00 <p><span>I spoke too soon.</span></p> <p><span>Had you asked me at the end of January if I believed in luck I would have said no.  But then the four leaf clover began to grow and blossom.</span></p> <p><span>Had you asked me last week if I believed in luck I would have been tempted to say yes.  I would have gone with a maybe.</span></p> <p><span>Had you asked me an hour ago if I believed in luck I would have hoped it to be true</span></p> <p><span>Ask me now?  I don't really know what to believe in but luck is low down on my list of beliefs.</span></p> <p><span>The friendly neighbourhood recruiter Jodie phoned me at 5.15 with the inevitable bad news.  It was extremely close.  If they could take on 2 people they would.  They stressed about it all weekend. Etc... But then came my favourite one, the other person just had a bit more experience.  Tw*t!  I hope they get RSI from using the computer mouse all day!!!  I know that to be so close to a job is a good sign, especially with it being one that judged me by my portfolio.  I'm not a totally sucky designer.  But right now, when I'm struggling to find any jobs to apply to and feel my world caving in I am struggling to see this as a positive.  I feel totally deflated.  Feeling positive that I am a good designer, but at the same time letting in the worries that dreaming of a career in such a competitive field is just pointless.</span></p> <p><span>I may not be a big believer in luck right now, but I am filling myself with hope that maybe my new blossoming clover is a new sign of luck and prosperity.  Hoping that it isn't just a random act of nature.  As always, fingers crossed!!!</span></p> <p><span>And to cheer myself up, I have resorted to my love of quotations.</span></p> <p><em>"Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure."</em>_ George Edward Woodberry</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="body"><span><em>"Failure is success if we learn from it."</em>_ Malcolm Forbes</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><strong></strong></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 0<br>Tears_ 1<br>Hope_ Low<br>Determination to Prove Myself_ High</span></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/10/deflated-5732186/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:design-dreams.blog.co.uk,2009-03-10:/2009/03/10/on-sunday-my-four-leaf-clovers-looked-to-be-dead-5731112/victorialouise19862009-03-10T17:49:50+01:002009-03-10T18:07:38+01:00 <p><span>On Sunday my four leaf clovers looked to be dead.  Ooops!  But not to worry, they were just a bit thirsty, the needy little gits need water every day it would seem!  Today they are loving life, both opened up photosynthesising like there is no tomorrow.  If this doesn't give me hope, then my new little bloomer does.  Of the five sprouting newbies one is starting to open up today.  Fingers crossed this genuinely is a sign of luck and not just a random act of nature.</span></p> <p><span>Yesterday, after a break of possibly over a month now, I finally returned to my website.  In interviews I have claimed it as a hobby but I have always felt like a liar, knowing that I did it for a couple of weeks and then gave up.  Not a good thing to mention in an interview though, no-one wants a quitter.  But I am not a quitter, so I have finally got back to it.  I feel fresh and enjoy it again.  It isn't as awful and hideous as I had convinced myself from spending too much time with it.  It has regained love in my heart, and will hopefully get finished this time.  If nothing else, it is proving a good distraction from my thoughts right now.  Just to get my exercise bug back now... I can feel it but I'm not quite finding the energy or motivation to do it just yet.</span></p> <p><span>Tomorrow is the goodbye.  Last Wednesday was full of shock and despair.  But since then I have been living in the happy, flowery fields of denial.  I have had the odd time when I have cried, going to her house being one of them.  But even that wasn't a time for realisation.  Why would it?  She is just in hospital, she is coming out tomorrow and she will be fine again.  Or so I am convinced.  I've only ever been to one funeral, and that was only in a supportive capacity for my best friend when his dad died.  I don't know how I'm going to cope tomorrow.  Will reality finally set in?  Or will I have another day of tears before the denial returns for a few more weeks until I realise I really am never seeing her again?</span></p> <p><span>At least I have my spanish lessons to distract myself.  I am becoming addicted.  So much so that I was even doing it in bed last night.  I love to learn.  Learning is all I have ever really known.  If I can't have education in my life anymore, I will bluddy well teach myself things!</span></p> <p><span>Jobs Applied For_ 2<br>Tears_ 0<br>5-a-day?_ Success!<br>Chocolate_ 0<br>Music of Choice_ Lady Gaga</span></p> <p> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://design-dreams.blog.co.uk/2009/03/10/on-sunday-my-four-leaf-clovers-looked-to-be-dead-5731112/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>