Recently I scored a job in publishing. Alright, I'm a lousy ad coordinator who deals with clients largely in the bridal industry. Is your mind boggling at the thought? Not nearly enough. You cannot imagine the variety of people I deal with; some are just absolutely wonderful,amazing, can't-praise-enough; some are a bit tough, but fair; some are downright fucking ugly and uncompromising in the worst way possible.
Yes, I did intend to get into editorial when I set out to get a mag hag job. But you know what? In this economy, there was actually just jack all going. I feel like I've got myself a prime position for movement, anyway, and between quarterly issues I take on as much editorial work as I can.
Another interest that's really surfaced recently is sub-editing. I know they're a dying breed, and I know that it's a hard way to go, but I really love subbing work. I'm lucky enough to work on a free weekly mag that doesn't have the budget to employ a sub; that leaves me! As inexperienced and under-qualified as I am, I feel like I'm making a difference, and I feel like I pick up any number of baby mistakes - the editor goes through first, and I follow. I always have something to come back with, which makes me proud (actually almost a sick kinda proud... I probably shouldn't get that much satisfaction from finding a double space in copy!). But I've caught some big-time errors, which I think improves the overall integrity of the magazine. It's hard to turn around a weekly.
I also get the opportunity to do the odd bit of advertising-related writing for a food magazine, which I absolutely love. The editor is amazing and she gives me every opportunity she can - even though I'm a lowly sales assistant. I have the utmost respect for her and really enjoy that publication as a whole.
So aside from the crappy admin stuff I have to do now and then, work is AMAZING. Sure, I don't get paid too well, but it's just enough and I have the satisfaction of feeling like I'm actually doing good. Thanks, job.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The internet forsakes thee
What do you do when the internet dies?
This is the question at the forefront of everybody's minds. The internet is our lifesource, what keeps us from slitting our wrists, what keeps us from being committed to the insane asylum. This is why asylums are so little spoken of in the modern age.
So what do you do when the internet forsakes you and decides to not work? Here are some suggestions.
1) Scream and run in circles. It is not productive, but it is valid.
2) Curl up into the foetal position and rock. It is less intrusive than the screaming but has a similarly cathartic effect.
3) Yell at the internet. It won't hear you and this may only aggravate you further.
4) keep hopefully refreshing the same page in a psychopathically repetitive fashion.
5) Go and yell at the person who holds the internet account. They're probably responsible, and if they're not, who cares - they are now.
6) Call up your ISP and yell at the sweet 18-year-old call centre representative. It's probably their fault.
7) Throw your computer across the room. Try not to smash the screen, you might regret it later. Throw it softly if possible.
8) Call your mum and yell at her. She loves abuse.
9) Go for a walk. Didn't see that coming, did you?
10) Go to sleep. The internet will probably be over its illness when you awake.
This is the question at the forefront of everybody's minds. The internet is our lifesource, what keeps us from slitting our wrists, what keeps us from being committed to the insane asylum. This is why asylums are so little spoken of in the modern age.
So what do you do when the internet forsakes you and decides to not work? Here are some suggestions.
1) Scream and run in circles. It is not productive, but it is valid.
2) Curl up into the foetal position and rock. It is less intrusive than the screaming but has a similarly cathartic effect.
3) Yell at the internet. It won't hear you and this may only aggravate you further.
4) keep hopefully refreshing the same page in a psychopathically repetitive fashion.
5) Go and yell at the person who holds the internet account. They're probably responsible, and if they're not, who cares - they are now.
6) Call up your ISP and yell at the sweet 18-year-old call centre representative. It's probably their fault.
7) Throw your computer across the room. Try not to smash the screen, you might regret it later. Throw it softly if possible.
8) Call your mum and yell at her. She loves abuse.
9) Go for a walk. Didn't see that coming, did you?
10) Go to sleep. The internet will probably be over its illness when you awake.
Boys do not know on which side their bread is buttered
I recently got asked out on a date.
Yay! You might be thinking. Yay! I was thinking. For someone such as I, possibly slightly dumpier than the average girl, and with less self-confidence than is ultimately desirable, you can imagine the thrill that ran through me when I saw the boy’s genuine shyness and his shaking hands.
“Er…I was just wondering…um…if perhaps you’d like to go for coffee sometime?”
I almost jumped down his throat with my yes, I was so nervous for him myself.
“Oh! Great!” he enthused.
Awkward silence.
“I’ll give you my number then, shall I?” I ventured.
“Yes! That’s great!” he said, somewhat relieved.
So I gave the poor boy my number, somewhat bemused through the awkwardness at his shaking hands. How absurdly sweet!
I did not have to wait long for him to text me; it happened within the hour. He was very cordial and very sweet, even if he did insist on spelling “definitely” as “defiantly”.
We set a day for the grand event, and on the day, I was an excited ball of nerves. However, no word came, so eventually I texted him and asked what was going on.
I received a text hours later saying that he had to go out of town, dreadfully sorry, etc.
So: I decided to give him one more go. Because, of course, he was pretty cute, even if he couldn’t spell definitely (he’d spelt it wrong twice at this point).
So we texted back and forth for a while, and I visited him at his work a couple of times, and everything was pleasant except for a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that perhaps interest had waned on his part a little. This proved to be no mean powers of deduction.
It all came to a head when I went in one day and was incredibly sweet, incredibly nice, and had dressed and made-up myself exceedingly well. We exchanged pleasantries but there was a haunted look in his eye. I received a text approximately fifteen minutes after leaving the shop:
"Hey, nice to see you today, you looked really amazing. So I thought that I should let you know that a little while ago I bumped into my ex and we’ve been hanging out a bit so I don’t think it’s fair on either of you if you and I meet up at the moment. I need to sort my shit out, but I’ll defiantly keep your number and maybe we can catch up some time in the future!”
The third “defiantly” was TOO much. Regardless of ex-girlfriends, this guy was never going to see my undergarments, nor anything beyond. I was also never going to be ANYONE’S backup plan.
I text back, rather coolly, “My, how awkward for you. Well you know what they say about exes – they are exes for a reason! Good luck with that though!”
And then I never heard from him again.
I have never been so baffled in my life: Surely this was not the shaking, contrite creature that had stood before me just two weeks before, humbly requesting my number? Now he was "in demand" as such, with girls just lapping at his feet, ready for the taking!
And this, my dear friends, is why you should never be too eager. Also: This could just be my opinion, but: Bad spelling/grammar = bad lay. Just sayin'. Go prove me wrong.
Yay! You might be thinking. Yay! I was thinking. For someone such as I, possibly slightly dumpier than the average girl, and with less self-confidence than is ultimately desirable, you can imagine the thrill that ran through me when I saw the boy’s genuine shyness and his shaking hands.
“Er…I was just wondering…um…if perhaps you’d like to go for coffee sometime?”
I almost jumped down his throat with my yes, I was so nervous for him myself.
“Oh! Great!” he enthused.
Awkward silence.
“I’ll give you my number then, shall I?” I ventured.
“Yes! That’s great!” he said, somewhat relieved.
So I gave the poor boy my number, somewhat bemused through the awkwardness at his shaking hands. How absurdly sweet!
I did not have to wait long for him to text me; it happened within the hour. He was very cordial and very sweet, even if he did insist on spelling “definitely” as “defiantly”.
We set a day for the grand event, and on the day, I was an excited ball of nerves. However, no word came, so eventually I texted him and asked what was going on.
I received a text hours later saying that he had to go out of town, dreadfully sorry, etc.
So: I decided to give him one more go. Because, of course, he was pretty cute, even if he couldn’t spell definitely (he’d spelt it wrong twice at this point).
So we texted back and forth for a while, and I visited him at his work a couple of times, and everything was pleasant except for a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that perhaps interest had waned on his part a little. This proved to be no mean powers of deduction.
It all came to a head when I went in one day and was incredibly sweet, incredibly nice, and had dressed and made-up myself exceedingly well. We exchanged pleasantries but there was a haunted look in his eye. I received a text approximately fifteen minutes after leaving the shop:
"Hey, nice to see you today, you looked really amazing. So I thought that I should let you know that a little while ago I bumped into my ex and we’ve been hanging out a bit so I don’t think it’s fair on either of you if you and I meet up at the moment. I need to sort my shit out, but I’ll defiantly keep your number and maybe we can catch up some time in the future!”
The third “defiantly” was TOO much. Regardless of ex-girlfriends, this guy was never going to see my undergarments, nor anything beyond. I was also never going to be ANYONE’S backup plan.
I text back, rather coolly, “My, how awkward for you. Well you know what they say about exes – they are exes for a reason! Good luck with that though!”
And then I never heard from him again.
I have never been so baffled in my life: Surely this was not the shaking, contrite creature that had stood before me just two weeks before, humbly requesting my number? Now he was "in demand" as such, with girls just lapping at his feet, ready for the taking!
And this, my dear friends, is why you should never be too eager. Also: This could just be my opinion, but: Bad spelling/grammar = bad lay. Just sayin'. Go prove me wrong.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Stalking: A comprehensive guide
Everybody has crushes. The problem is, it’s very hard to tell if the person you are crushing on is compatible to your personality and lifestyle. Take a rational approach and follow these quick and simple steps to stalking your crush. Find out if they’re the one for you!
1. You must know their full name. It’s good to have their date of birth as well.
2. Google them. It’s likely that this will link you to all their social media sites, which is the best way to start out your stalking.
3. Go on to their Facebook or Myspace and look at their photos. You can usually do this unless they’ve been stalked before and have made their privacy settings tighter.
4. By looking through their photos you will be able to find out where they hang out, who with, and whether or not they are single. It’s not really important if they’re single or not though, you will probably be able to scare off the competition with your knife.
5. It is best to try and find a mutual friend. You can latch onto this friend and they will be your “in” to all of the social events that your crush attends.
6. Do not let the mutual friend get ideas about you. As attractive and irresistable as you are, you must spurn them. Your crush must not have competition.
7. When you are at social events with your crush, do not try and insinuate yourself into their conversations. It is likely that your good looks and winning charm will make them change their demeanour to win you over. Instead, stand within earshot of existing conversations your crush is having. That way you get to see if they are appropriate for you or not.
8. It’s time to see what they do all day! It’s so cliché to hide in bushes or sit in cars outside their house. Instead, try a more creative approach. If you’re wealthy, harness surveillance technology and install a camera to look on their house. If you’re poor, try sitting up a very leafy tree. It might get uncomfortable, but at least you’re original.
9. If at any time you get the chance, sneak into their house and look at their bedroom. You can tell a lot about people by the books they read and the colour of their wallpaper.
10. You are now ready to approach your crush! It’s been proven that it’s unwise to let on that you know so much about them. Let them do the talking. You will find that with an already intimate understanding of them, you will be able to pre-empt almost their every desire.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Holy crap, you've got to write a paper
Sitting down to start a paper may appear to be the hardest part, but you're wrong. It's just the beginning of many very separate too-hard moments which will begin to spiral out of control now that you are seated.
Take now, for instance: I have only just managed to extricate myself from bed, where I was reading blissfully, so that I can sit in front of this here screen in preparation to start. Small pat on the back for getting that far. However, I just opened my research notes, and realized that I was going to have to reformat them before handing them in. That's when I opened a game of solitaire.
I'm pretty much promising you that as soon as I've written half a page, I'll find something that I'll need to verify. Do you know what's just too hard right now? Search engines. I'm going to read a blog instead.
Basically, at two in the morning when I only have eight hours left before hand-in, the fear will strike and all of a sudden my too-hard basket will magically empty. Then I'll write like a bat out of hell and eventually fall asleep on the "a" key when I'm 7/8ths done.
I'll wake up at approximately ten to seven, giving me just enough time to have some caffeine, scrawl some crap to fill in the gaps, delete seven pages of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, print it off and race to Uni.
Then I'll congratulate myself for getting it done "so quickly". What a douche.
Take now, for instance: I have only just managed to extricate myself from bed, where I was reading blissfully, so that I can sit in front of this here screen in preparation to start. Small pat on the back for getting that far. However, I just opened my research notes, and realized that I was going to have to reformat them before handing them in. That's when I opened a game of solitaire.
I'm pretty much promising you that as soon as I've written half a page, I'll find something that I'll need to verify. Do you know what's just too hard right now? Search engines. I'm going to read a blog instead.
Basically, at two in the morning when I only have eight hours left before hand-in, the fear will strike and all of a sudden my too-hard basket will magically empty. Then I'll write like a bat out of hell and eventually fall asleep on the "a" key when I'm 7/8ths done.
I'll wake up at approximately ten to seven, giving me just enough time to have some caffeine, scrawl some crap to fill in the gaps, delete seven pages of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, print it off and race to Uni.
Then I'll congratulate myself for getting it done "so quickly". What a douche.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Irritating flatmate and I: A dialogue
ME: "Have you seen the coffee plunger? I could swear it was here this morning."
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "It's in the dishwasher."
Side note: Our dishwasher has been broken for several months now. We all do our own dishes by hand. At least, that's what we *thought* we were all doing.
(Pregnant pause ensues)
ME: "Um...why?"
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "Um... (sarcastic face-pulling... or perhaps his face is just like that) so it will get clean."
ME: "You *know* the dishwasher's broken, right?"
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "Works fine for me."
ME: "FUUUUUUUU-----"
PROLOGUE
The dishwasher did not clean any of Irritating Flatmate's dishes properly. They came out crusty and curry-caked, likely owing to the fact that he had left them on the bench for three days prior without soaking them, rather than the fact that the dishwasher actually IS broken.
To this day he swears they are "clean enough for him".
The rest of us lovely, consensus-abiding flatmates sat down and laughed about how Irritating Flatmate never got over not living with his mother. After we had cleaned up after him, of course. Just like his mother would have done.
PS: He just left town for ten days. He left the dishwasher full of dirty dishes.
PSS: His mother pays his rent. He's 28. Yes, you read right.
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "It's in the dishwasher."
Side note: Our dishwasher has been broken for several months now. We all do our own dishes by hand. At least, that's what we *thought* we were all doing.
(Pregnant pause ensues)
ME: "Um...why?"
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "Um... (sarcastic face-pulling... or perhaps his face is just like that) so it will get clean."
ME: "You *know* the dishwasher's broken, right?"
IRRITATING FLATMATE: "Works fine for me."
ME: "FUUUUUUUU-----"
PROLOGUE
The dishwasher did not clean any of Irritating Flatmate's dishes properly. They came out crusty and curry-caked, likely owing to the fact that he had left them on the bench for three days prior without soaking them, rather than the fact that the dishwasher actually IS broken.
To this day he swears they are "clean enough for him".
The rest of us lovely, consensus-abiding flatmates sat down and laughed about how Irritating Flatmate never got over not living with his mother. After we had cleaned up after him, of course. Just like his mother would have done.
PS: He just left town for ten days. He left the dishwasher full of dirty dishes.
PSS: His mother pays his rent. He's 28. Yes, you read right.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Things I Have Learned This Week
It's a picture of a caterpillar. How nice.
Here are some things you should never do if you value your sanity.
1: Don't get out your debit card if you are walking somewhere and you are holding elebenty-million things. You will drop it, and when you go to buy a sandwich (the reason you got it out in the first place, and you were starving so you got it out super-preemptively) you will have NOTHING. You will also not have any cash on you. You will have to walk home, too, because you were planning to get out cash for the bus when you purchased your sandwich.
2: Don't try to be all classy and color-coordinated by switching handbags every couple of days. you will
a) go to buy alcohol and realize your ID is in your other bag
b) go to buy alcohol and realize your money is in your other bag
c) a combination of above factors.
3: Don't just assume that it won't rain. It will. You will be in a short-sleeved t-shirt and get saturated. It will be a white t-shirt too and everyone will see your goods.
4: Don't let your little brother borrow your CD's. Sure, it's flattering that he wants to listen to the same music as you. It's not flattering that he doesn't actually give two fucks about them and will either lose/scratch/shatter them.
5: Don't ask your mother for favors. She will ABSOLUTELY hold it against you next time she wants a favor, and trust me, her favor will be twenty times more elaborate and time-consuming than the one you asked for.
6: Codeine and alcohol are not friends. You will pass out. Trust me.
7: Don't pour milk into your coffee without smelling it first.
8: Don't go for six months without paying your cellphone bill. Yeah, they'll cut you off, and then with alarming rapidity refer your overdue account to debt collectors. Bastards.
9: For the love of God, do not leave your laptop open unattended around your roommates. You will look at your Facebook status two days later and see that "Ellie likes to suck cock" is your status update. Also on Twitter. And on Google Buzz.
10: Finally, never, NEVER wear shoes of dubious comfort out of the house. They pinch a little now? in twenty minutes you will be in SHEER AGONY.
It's been a good week.
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