So, following the train-wreck that is my legal career, I've decided that I want to pursue a career in radio. My parents, and their incessant desire for a 'plan' for my life, have been badgering me more than a pesky badger trying to convince a fisherman to give him his fishin' worms. In other words, very badgery indeed, and rather depressing.
Parents have that great ability to summarise what you do in negative terms. It's a skill that comes with being a teacher and trying to promote constructive criticism. Sometimes though, it's just fucking annoying.
"What's the plan, son?"
"Well, I want to work for a year, maybe try and get a part-time job and try and get some work placements or experience with a radio station before enrolling in a masters next year."
"So, you plan to bum about for a year?"
(Grrrrr THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAID!!!)
I won't even tell you what they say when I tell them that I'd love to someday write for a career.
Anyway, I'm trying my bestest, and I'm ploughing my way through work experience applications. The stations that I applied for today are....
BBC Radio
ClassicFM
XFM
NME Radio
Capital FM
Chill
Fun Kids Radio
Heart Radio
LBC FM
...and that's just the London ones.
I also tried Jazz FM and Heat FM but unfortunately they don't take work experience folks. Smooth, non-job-giving bastards.
So, if I'm trying to get a job in radio and I'm not employable with any of these guys, then I might be slightly screwed.
Slightly? Totally.
In the pushing-Marlon-Brandon-up-a-potholed-hill-during-a-mudslide way.
Anybody have any hints or suggestions? Cos Marlon's looking hungry, and I smell of fried chicken...
Showing posts with label real-life stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label real-life stuff. Show all posts
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Happy-Go-Fucking Lucky McPositive and the Fork in the Road...
KABLAMMO!!
That's the noise of a bad moment, a little percussive volley as my corpus callosum is rent in twain and my head explodes, brainz n' all, like an egg in a microwave.
So about 5 months ago (Monday the 12th April in fact) I wrote a piece about my ill-fated and toe-blistering initial attempt to get back into shape as part of my (woefully inadequately fulfilled) 101 things to do and haven't really written anything since.
A cynic would suggest that my pot bellied attempt to be less dough-like stopped my brain working for almost half a year, but I don't think that's the case.
Basically, I had an exam in June, but thanks to the dual forces of working two jobs, and being a lazy earfucker, I managed to fail...spectacularly. Then, after spending the summer studying...I failed again. And lost my job as a lawyer.
KABLAMMO!
So that was yesterday. Now I'm one of the 99.9999% of the world again. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing with life.
Since 2008 I've been approaching my career as a lawyer who was going to become a writer at the first opportunity. It was comforting; financial security, quite prestigious, challenging and keeping with the 'artist' bullshit scenario that we all paint about ourselves in our minds.
That's the problem. When you spend enough time convincing yourself of a fact, it becomes all too easy to see it as a truth. Now I have to rethink some other things about myself that I though were true, like being a great lover, having the physique of a gladiator, or being an original member of The Sugarhill Gang.
So cut throat corporate law is probably not for me. Small-town Atticus Finchery maybe, but not the Michael Clayton red-braces-and-Porsche-Boxter type. Some cliché is coming to mind about heat and kitchens, but it escapes me.
So what now?
I think the next stage for me is a masters degree of some sort. I've been looking at either an MA in radio production or print journalism. I want to give the writing future an actual attempt.
What do you think? Become a nicotine/adrenaline headline jock or an NPR/Radio 4 type doing radio dramas and producer 'Gardener's Question Time'? Both sound good.
That's the noise of a bad moment, a little percussive volley as my corpus callosum is rent in twain and my head explodes, brainz n' all, like an egg in a microwave.
So about 5 months ago (Monday the 12th April in fact) I wrote a piece about my ill-fated and toe-blistering initial attempt to get back into shape as part of my (woefully inadequately fulfilled) 101 things to do and haven't really written anything since.
A cynic would suggest that my pot bellied attempt to be less dough-like stopped my brain working for almost half a year, but I don't think that's the case.
Basically, I had an exam in June, but thanks to the dual forces of working two jobs, and being a lazy earfucker, I managed to fail...spectacularly. Then, after spending the summer studying...I failed again. And lost my job as a lawyer.
KABLAMMO!
So that was yesterday. Now I'm one of the 99.9999% of the world again. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing with life.
Since 2008 I've been approaching my career as a lawyer who was going to become a writer at the first opportunity. It was comforting; financial security, quite prestigious, challenging and keeping with the 'artist' bullshit scenario that we all paint about ourselves in our minds.
That's the problem. When you spend enough time convincing yourself of a fact, it becomes all too easy to see it as a truth. Now I have to rethink some other things about myself that I though were true, like being a great lover, having the physique of a gladiator, or being an original member of The Sugarhill Gang.
So cut throat corporate law is probably not for me. Small-town Atticus Finchery maybe, but not the Michael Clayton red-braces-and-Porsche-Boxter type. Some cliché is coming to mind about heat and kitchens, but it escapes me.
So what now?
I think the next stage for me is a masters degree of some sort. I've been looking at either an MA in radio production or print journalism. I want to give the writing future an actual attempt.
What do you think? Become a nicotine/adrenaline headline jock or an NPR/Radio 4 type doing radio dramas and producer 'Gardener's Question Time'? Both sound good.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Happy-go-fucking-lucky McPositive and the Work/Life Skullfuck
Aloha,
So I've been a bit of a phantom-man around the old blogosphere, popping my head up to bitch and moan about work, or put some innane and useless video up. In short, my posts have gone seriously downhill in terms of quality this past while. There are a few reasons:
1) I have SERIOUS writer's block at the moment. There are a few things that I really want to start working on, drama and comedy, and I can't for the life of me get my thinking hat to stay on my head. I can't even string a sentence together that is not something that I am reading from a page, or as in this case, reporting back.
2) I am tired. I know, I know, I complain about insomnia all the time, but this is fucking ridicularse. It's like I've got a mild concussion or a case of fume-induced delirium. I kinda feel a bit stoned, but in a way that's not cool, or relaxed or appetite-exaggerating in the slightest. It's like a warm cosy feeling mixed with a little scratchy squirrel trying to burrow his way from behind my eyes. Grrr
3) I'm a depressive person. If you spend enough time with me you get to know that, even in spite of the buffoonery. I honestly can't really give a larger-than-small shit about the old cyber world when my own head is so firmly ensconsed up my own arse. I'm also pissed-off more easily these days, like when I want to momentarily shove a barbed-wire dildo up the arse of the smug Corporate type passively aggressively whacking his suitcase into me on the Tube for more space. It's like a little madness.
BUT, most of all...
4)
Work. I used to roll my eyes when people talked about a 'work/life balance' as being something elusive and vaguely whitewhalish. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Ahab?"
Well, keeping with the Moby Dick theme, the only recurring character who I'm honestly representing at the moment is Mr Starbucks. I'm a caffeine-fuelled automaton, obsessed with the next source of a Joey boost at my job.
(NB: As it turns out, I was massively wrong about the people I work with. Again, I've jumped before looking and my first impression (and an uncharacteristic judgmental mood) was completely out of whack. It turns out I just hate working, the people i do it with are actually lovely, it's not their fault I'm a lazy cunt.)
What I'm finding at the moment is a bit of a cliché. I'm like the female protagonist who can't balance her trendy media job, her angst-ridden (less pretty) friends and the relationship with her oh-so-hunky-but-in-revelation-a-bit-of-a-dick boyfriend in a shite RomCom. I need some serious balance. At the moment, I come in from work, eat, drink tea, eat some more and go to bed. Occasionally I might read for 20 mins or halfheartedly chat online to some buddies, or even play some useless flash game. When I do finally get to bed, the atheistic panic streak before I turn the light off of 'Wow, life is seriously short. I need more time!' that would gnaw at me during my more-stress-but-less-miserable unemployed Chest Shaving/Escalator Tumbling days seems to be absent. Crikey bejikey, maybe I've conformed.
("Like, oh no man, what a drag.")
ANYWAY, I had this plan about work. I was thinking I'd go on some really strong dose of anti-depressant (oooh, like, say a 60mg daily dose of Citalopram or something) and just coast through the next while in a bit of a coma. It seems that that might not work (I haven't implemented it anyway) because I have to talk to people a lot at work....but we'll see. And by 'we'll see' I mean, 'Of course I won't do that'.
-
-
--
--
-
-
A part of me has been wondering about the whole blog idea. When I began, about 10 months ago, I was intending it to be a forum to write about the law and politics, and definitely not use words like 'skullfuck' or 'barbed-wire dildo' to express my thoughts. It's like everything in life, you start with good intentions but before you know it, out come the dildoes.
So, and not in a 'girlfriend test' way, I'm going to think for a while about why I actually have this blog, and whether I want to keep it. I'll keep blogging, and actually try a wee bit more, but I may soon come to the conclusion to shut down the treehouse for a while. We'll see.
HAHA, how ranty and self-obsessed. There have been good developments in my life too, for example...
Dah dah dah daaaaaaaaaaaah!
I've done more of my 101 things to do...
1) Quit smoking cigarettes (that was fucking HARD!)
35) Get tickets to be in the audience for the radio recordings of what will be a TV comedy show (I'm claiming this as done because of the Twitter-based Sarah Millican tickets, that was an awesome night!)
Completed 7/101
So there, it's all relative I guess.
xx
So I've been a bit of a phantom-man around the old blogosphere, popping my head up to bitch and moan about work, or put some innane and useless video up. In short, my posts have gone seriously downhill in terms of quality this past while. There are a few reasons:
1) I have SERIOUS writer's block at the moment. There are a few things that I really want to start working on, drama and comedy, and I can't for the life of me get my thinking hat to stay on my head. I can't even string a sentence together that is not something that I am reading from a page, or as in this case, reporting back.
2) I am tired. I know, I know, I complain about insomnia all the time, but this is fucking ridicularse. It's like I've got a mild concussion or a case of fume-induced delirium. I kinda feel a bit stoned, but in a way that's not cool, or relaxed or appetite-exaggerating in the slightest. It's like a warm cosy feeling mixed with a little scratchy squirrel trying to burrow his way from behind my eyes. Grrr
3) I'm a depressive person. If you spend enough time with me you get to know that, even in spite of the buffoonery. I honestly can't really give a larger-than-small shit about the old cyber world when my own head is so firmly ensconsed up my own arse. I'm also pissed-off more easily these days, like when I want to momentarily shove a barbed-wire dildo up the arse of the smug Corporate type passively aggressively whacking his suitcase into me on the Tube for more space. It's like a little madness.
BUT, most of all...
4)
Work. I used to roll my eyes when people talked about a 'work/life balance' as being something elusive and vaguely whitewhalish. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Ahab?"
Well, keeping with the Moby Dick theme, the only recurring character who I'm honestly representing at the moment is Mr Starbucks. I'm a caffeine-fuelled automaton, obsessed with the next source of a Joey boost at my job.
(NB: As it turns out, I was massively wrong about the people I work with. Again, I've jumped before looking and my first impression (and an uncharacteristic judgmental mood) was completely out of whack. It turns out I just hate working, the people i do it with are actually lovely, it's not their fault I'm a lazy cunt.)
What I'm finding at the moment is a bit of a cliché. I'm like the female protagonist who can't balance her trendy media job, her angst-ridden (less pretty) friends and the relationship with her oh-so-hunky-but-in-revelation-a-bit-of-a-dick boyfriend in a shite RomCom. I need some serious balance. At the moment, I come in from work, eat, drink tea, eat some more and go to bed. Occasionally I might read for 20 mins or halfheartedly chat online to some buddies, or even play some useless flash game. When I do finally get to bed, the atheistic panic streak before I turn the light off of 'Wow, life is seriously short. I need more time!' that would gnaw at me during my more-stress-but-less-miserable unemployed Chest Shaving/Escalator Tumbling days seems to be absent. Crikey bejikey, maybe I've conformed.
("Like, oh no man, what a drag.")
ANYWAY, I had this plan about work. I was thinking I'd go on some really strong dose of anti-depressant (oooh, like, say a 60mg daily dose of Citalopram or something) and just coast through the next while in a bit of a coma. It seems that that might not work (I haven't implemented it anyway) because I have to talk to people a lot at work....but we'll see. And by 'we'll see' I mean, 'Of course I won't do that'.
-
-
--
--
-
-
A part of me has been wondering about the whole blog idea. When I began, about 10 months ago, I was intending it to be a forum to write about the law and politics, and definitely not use words like 'skullfuck' or 'barbed-wire dildo' to express my thoughts. It's like everything in life, you start with good intentions but before you know it, out come the dildoes.
So, and not in a 'girlfriend test' way, I'm going to think for a while about why I actually have this blog, and whether I want to keep it. I'll keep blogging, and actually try a wee bit more, but I may soon come to the conclusion to shut down the treehouse for a while. We'll see.
HAHA, how ranty and self-obsessed. There have been good developments in my life too, for example...
Dah dah dah daaaaaaaaaaaah!
I've done more of my 101 things to do...
1) Quit smoking cigarettes (that was fucking HARD!)
35) Get tickets to be in the audience for the radio recordings of what will be a TV comedy show (I'm claiming this as done because of the Twitter-based Sarah Millican tickets, that was an awesome night!)
Completed 7/101
So there, it's all relative I guess.
xx
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
What a week...
Well, it's been a bit of an hectic one, this past seven days, and I for once feel justified in taking such an absence from my wee blogín. The previous video shows what happens when I drink coffee.
I get a wee bit hyper.
I've been hyper quite a lot this week.
So on Wednesday, I suited up again, brushed my hair (AND my teeth) and made for the middle of nowhere, North-of-London satellite of Harrow. WootHollaWootBuzz.
I had an appointment with an AGENCY who were VERY EXCITED to meet me and talk about possible jobs I might be able to finaegle from their haunted boxes of employment (computers) and earn some money to keep my massive heroin habit going and pay the families of those prostitutes I accidentally killed during 'the misunderstanding'. I arrived, fresh faced and bright-eyed (due to the cold) and when the young (NB. a very generous adjective to use there) lady who met me in the reception rushed forward, arm outstretched in greeting, I instantly noticed that she had put her jacket on incorrectly and was immediately distracted.
She seems to have missed her should when she put the blazer on, but only on one side. She looked like someone who had (very narrowly) failed an exam on how to put on a jacket. Dubious suspicion arose.
(Also, my first thought was 'Wow, maybe she's a hunchback, I can rub it for luck!' but that's not PC so don't tell anyone plzz)
I was taken (let's call her...) Jessica's desk, where I promptly knee-capped myself on her Hobbit sized furniture, and she started going through my CV. As we talked about how massively underqualified I was, I got the sneaking suspicion that maybe she WASN'T VERY EXCITED at all, as she seemed to know a disproportionately small amount about my employment history for the sentiments she had previously explained. Soon afterwards, I was given an admin skills exam (95% MOTHER-BITCHES, YEEEEHAAAAAAWWWWW!!! *fires pistols in the air*) with an audience of the other meno-youthful job sorceresses - who all giggled at my red braces - and then...
Nothing.
All that and all she could say was 'We'll keep your details on file'.
Not cool.
Okay, so then, when i was on the way home, my phone rings and one of the million (215) jobs I applied for gets back to me and asks me to come in. Unfortunately the guy at the temping agency couldn't tell the difference between 'Full-time Job' and 'Three Day Temp Position' and just...well...lied. I know, in this day and age. I lasted a day.
So I came back from THAT and
*angel chorus*
I get offered a full-time job.
Not only a full time job, but the full time job I had interviewed for an hour before I made that uber-hyper vlog post last Tuesday. They liked the braces.
So I'm jobbed. Sweet.
With that I took the weekend to heart. I had a five hour vid-chat with a really good friend (Mei Mei) during which time I drank two bottles of wine and spent a great deal of time showing off my ghetto speak -which is atrocious- and having one of the best nights in a looooooooooong time. THEN on Sunday, I met my first blog-friend in RL. SoFloBoJo is a very cool person, and we chatted for seven hours over LOTS of Guinness and Whiskey in a cool little pub in Maida Vale. It was a really cool day and made me eager to meet other London bloggers in the flesh. Although I could probably not drink the same amount again for some time.
Anyway, I hereby resolve to not whine about my job again, or ever foul up this once-beautiful blog with such mediocre shite again (Boohoo, I'm broke etc) for as long as possible.
So, yay, thank fuck.
I get a wee bit hyper.
I've been hyper quite a lot this week.
So on Wednesday, I suited up again, brushed my hair (AND my teeth) and made for the middle of nowhere, North-of-London satellite of Harrow. WootHollaWootBuzz.
I had an appointment with an AGENCY who were VERY EXCITED to meet me and talk about possible jobs I might be able to finaegle from their haunted boxes of employment (computers) and earn some money to keep my massive heroin habit going and pay the families of those prostitutes I accidentally killed during 'the misunderstanding'. I arrived, fresh faced and bright-eyed (due to the cold) and when the young (NB. a very generous adjective to use there) lady who met me in the reception rushed forward, arm outstretched in greeting, I instantly noticed that she had put her jacket on incorrectly and was immediately distracted.
She seems to have missed her should when she put the blazer on, but only on one side. She looked like someone who had (very narrowly) failed an exam on how to put on a jacket. Dubious suspicion arose.
(Also, my first thought was 'Wow, maybe she's a hunchback, I can rub it for luck!' but that's not PC so don't tell anyone plzz)
I was taken (let's call her...) Jessica's desk, where I promptly knee-capped myself on her Hobbit sized furniture, and she started going through my CV. As we talked about how massively underqualified I was, I got the sneaking suspicion that maybe she WASN'T VERY EXCITED at all, as she seemed to know a disproportionately small amount about my employment history for the sentiments she had previously explained. Soon afterwards, I was given an admin skills exam (95% MOTHER-BITCHES, YEEEEHAAAAAAWWWWW!!! *fires pistols in the air*) with an audience of the other meno-youthful job sorceresses - who all giggled at my red braces - and then...
Nothing.
All that and all she could say was 'We'll keep your details on file'.
Not cool.
Okay, so then, when i was on the way home, my phone rings and one of the million (215) jobs I applied for gets back to me and asks me to come in. Unfortunately the guy at the temping agency couldn't tell the difference between 'Full-time Job' and 'Three Day Temp Position' and just...well...lied. I know, in this day and age. I lasted a day.
So I came back from THAT and
*angel chorus*
I get offered a full-time job.
Not only a full time job, but the full time job I had interviewed for an hour before I made that uber-hyper vlog post last Tuesday. They liked the braces.
So I'm jobbed. Sweet.
With that I took the weekend to heart. I had a five hour vid-chat with a really good friend (Mei Mei) during which time I drank two bottles of wine and spent a great deal of time showing off my ghetto speak -which is atrocious- and having one of the best nights in a looooooooooong time. THEN on Sunday, I met my first blog-friend in RL. SoFloBoJo is a very cool person, and we chatted for seven hours over LOTS of Guinness and Whiskey in a cool little pub in Maida Vale. It was a really cool day and made me eager to meet other London bloggers in the flesh. Although I could probably not drink the same amount again for some time.
Anyway, I hereby resolve to not whine about my job again, or ever foul up this once-beautiful blog with such mediocre shite again (Boohoo, I'm broke etc) for as long as possible.
So, yay, thank fuck.
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