Posts Tagged ‘dreams’

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dream: apocalypse rob.

September 18, 2009

This dream is a masterclass in me.

The first thing that I remember is being at lunch in a fancy restaurant, ordering French pastries with Charlotte from Sex and the City.  We were discussing relationships and sex, and about whether I was a failure for not having gotten married yet.  Charlotte was as lovely and reassuring as she is on the tv programme, and I remember as I took bites out of my French cake (strawberry – which I normally don’t like), she told me that I was young and that there was plenty of time to fall in love.  We sprayed each other with the new Prada fragrance, L’eau Ambrée, and it was delicious.

I left the restaurant and Charlotte, and met up with Rob (the Romanian) and we went back to my place (I had a very white apartment) where we sat on the bed and were talking and flirting for ages.  (I am wearing my Opium Pour Homme today as I type this as a result) At one point I was so tempted to kiss him, but I couldn’t do it because he had/has a boyfriend and that would not really be ethical.  I reached out and stroked his face, and he nuzzled into it while saying “You know that I can’t do that”.  The tension mounted and I kept my hand against his cheek, but eventually the moment passed and I had to go.

The next thing I know, I was walking along the edge of a bayou (!!!) and I came to a big wooden Colonial-style house with lots of people crowded around on the veranda.  I mingled with the crowd, looking for Rob and it transpired that his family owned the house.  There was a raft on the river of the bayou, ready to “set sail”, and I tried to get Rob to go on it with me and we could go down the river together.  However, once I sat on the raft I discovered that his sister was going to use the raft with me, and she was a prostitute.  She got on the raft, along with a couple of other guys, and Rob disappeared and we started to drift upstream, towards the big white gates of the city.  The gates opened, and after some forgettable conversation, I got off the raft and left Rob’s sister and her guys to it.  I walked along the street and went back to my apartment.  The whole city looked as if it had been whitewashed, and it was ominously pristine and futuristic.

I went into my apartment block, and suddenly a siren sounded and the dean from St. Anne’s College at Oxford University, Martin Jackson, came thundering down the stairs and informed me that we were on ‘high alert’.  He told me to follow him up the stairs to a safe part of the building, and I had no choice but to do so.  He led me to an isolated part of the apartment block on the top floor, where all of the doors were sliding and gleaming white, with no handles or anything – they seemed to open and close of their own accord, as if they could see us coming.

Once I arrived on the top floor, I found out that the country / world was on ‘high alert’, because the Chinese had massive guns that they were using to shoot down all the other countries.  (Dreams are not logical.)  Although we were trying to fight back with our own guns, our guns were not as big and therefore we were almost certain to lose, and the world was due to descend into warfare and possibly the end of the world.  So that was why it was important to take refuge now, before it was too late.  In the top floor of the apartment building, there was a hallway leading off to three rooms.  I chose to enter the room on the left, which was furnished largely in red velvet with chairs set up for an audience.  At the front of the room was a massive flat-screen television, and it appeared that we were supposed to be watching something.  I have no idea what was supposed to happen in the other two rooms, but I had the impression that it was something more sinister and that I had chosen well.

Little by little, the room began to fill up with people, including my friend Hannah, and also a girl from school called Hannah Drake.  Hannah found me and we were relieved that we were both safe.  Meanwhile, the screen began to show Street Fighter games for different gaming platforms (including the Playstation and the Sega Saturn; it was some weird hybrid of Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat).  Akuma from Street Fighter actually entered the room and sat himself down, all fiery red hair and glowing eyes, and finally the film began to start.  It was very abstract and didn’t explain much.  At one point, me and Hannah looked at each other and started giggling because it made no sense, but one of the old women seated behind us hushed us and told us to pay attention to the film as it was important.  I remember lots of cityscapes and white gleaming buildings, and that was it!

Anyone willing to psychoanalyse?  Sigmund Freud?

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psychoanalysis.

September 5, 2009

It’s come to the point where I look forward to my dreams to see what twisted scenario my brain is going to spit out at me while I’m sleeping.  When I wake up and I either haven’t had a dream (to my knowledge), or I already know that I have forgotten it, I feel somewhat frustrated and cheated, although there’s nothing I can do.  But the past couple of weeks, as you’ll know if you’ve been checking in here from time to time, I’ve been having an extraordinary string of weird, convoluted dreams.  Last night’s was more a reversion to type, where I had been with my mother and my nan in town, except for some reason I had to catch the bus up to my nan’s house by myself.  I remember I was smoking at the bus stop, anxiously scanning the streets to make sure that I wasn’t caught by my family.  The bus was taking an extremely long time to turn up, and just before it did, this girl from school that I used to know, called Kate Noble, appeared and began to stalk me, circling the bus stop and grinning in my face (in a creepy way).

I thought I had shaken her off when I got on the bus, which looked more like a coach. The driver indicated that the only free seat was the one directly behind him (right at the front) so I sat there, only to discover that Kate was sat behind me, wearing a knitted black shawl around her head and shoulders so as to make her look like a creepy gypsy, with her heavy black eye makeup and violet lipstick with blinding white teeth.  She kept trying to steal things from me (at one point, the driver of the bus turned round and indicated to me that she had stolen my gold and silver ring, a plastic piece of jewellery my father had bought me as a misguided Christmas present a few years ago), and after a while I turned around and started threatening her to leave me alone, I swore at her and called her a cunt, and she just laughed at me.  That was about it, although I remember a knife being involved, though I’m not sure if I tried to kill her or if she intended to murder me.

I often have dreams where I’m being stalked, where there is a murderer or killer or evil person chasing me for some reason.  I have always loved horror movies, and when I was a child I used to watch the murder mysteries and movies that my mother would tape from the nights before.  Looking back, I guess I was quite young to be watching those kinds of things, but I only occasionally got scared and I found the stories quite exciting and absorbing, as well as psychologically stimulating.  Trying to work out who the killer was, what motivated them to do what they did and their methods was like a detective game for me, and I look back fondly on those times I shared with my mum watching programmes in the mornings when I was off from school.  I never felt like I couldn’t handle watching even the scariest films, and it’s come to the point where none of my friends want to watch a large part of my DVD collection because I have a lot of twisted, scary films.

During my waking hours, watching these kinds of thing doesn’t affect me in the slightest, so perhaps my dreams are a manifestation of that? Not to get all Freudian, but it would make sense if the violent and twisted things that I watch are replicated (in a more abstract way) in the dreams that I have, because luckily in reality I have yet to be stalked by a serial killer or be fleeing from my family who had been turned into vampires or even be followed by a compulsive thief.  Right now, I am watching American Psycho, because I am about a third of the way through Bret Easton Ellis’ book and loving it, so I wanted to revisit the film.  The main character, Patrick Bateman, is quite twisted and yet extremely hollow, actively conforming to a yuppie stereotype and exhibiting no further ambition beyond collecting money, designer clothes and achieving a perfect physique; his addiction to hardcore pornography and penchant for violently murdering beautiful girls is perhaps the most edgy thing about his life which is a qualified success beyond all measure, and yet an utterly heartless and one-dimensional façade.  Perhaps this is why he has developed this irresistible urge to violate, to cause pain and end people’s lives… it’s the most impactful thing that he can do, although the impact is obviously negative.

Despite this, the film is hilarious at the same time as its ideas are interesting and vaguely shocking.  I recognise a world where you are supposed to achieve a checklist of things in order to be “successful” or “happy”: car, well-paid job, trendy social circle, relationship, house… These are all things that I genuinely want, but at the same time I don’t have complete faith that once I’ve achieved these things, I will be any happier than I am now.  I think that most of us seek a way to achieve our wildest dreams while also working towards a more realistic success – one doesn’t necessarily negate the other, but there comes a point where we choose one over the other.  Because not everyone can be famous, most of us go for a realistic, modest version of happiness which is possibly more stable; but either way, nobody knows how much happiness lies at the end of the journey.  I guess that nobody wants to be predictable or mundane, so we search for ways to make us edgy.  Rather than murdering or raping people (as does Patrick Bateman), I choose to have killer fashion sense and make my own music (that’s also in pursuit of achieving my dreams of being a singer, so I try to keep my dreams alive while living an everyday life).  That’s the way that I set myself apart from others, even in my own head.  We all have our own ‘thing’, I guess…

But at the end of the day (I don’t know if this is true in American Psycho the book, as I haven’t even gotten halfway through it yet), it remains to be seen whether it truly satisfies us.  All I want, which is part of the reason why I want to entertain, why I love to sing and create music, why I want to be a Careers Adviser for my more ‘realistic’ vocation, is to make a difference to people’s lives, to have an impact on society, to be important and remembered; to matter. I guess that Patrick Bateman is driven to choosing to murder people (I know it is a paradox to be “driven to choose to do something” but it’s the best, most immediate way I can think of to express how we are at once responsible and moulded by society and environment for the choices that we make) in the same pursuit : to break away from mundane ordinary life, and to make an unforgettable impact.  I hope to do the same, but in a more positive and less damaging, psychopathic way!!!   I hope that my dreams just stay as dreams, because they are exciting, interesting and yet utterly harmless.  I guess that I enjoy Street Fighter IV in the same way – it’s edgy, violent and satisfying, but it’s just a game and I have no desire (96% of the time) to kick anyone’s face in.  I suppose all I am trying to say is that while murder is inexcusable, I can also see how current society, employment and the hierarchies which exist within each can drive somebody apparently successful and balanced to do shocking and unbalanced things.  I just hope to do things which shock people in a good way, rather than in a bad (or illegal) one.

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dream (f/ Thore Schölermann & Brazil)

August 25, 2009

This is sort of becoming a dream blog!  This last week I have had so many vivid dreams, I feel almost privileged.  I have been all around Europe (France, Russia, Spain, Italy) and now I have visited a country I was praising only last week – Brazil!  These dream holidays are a lot cheaper than the real thing too 😉 It’s been a while since anyone plotted to kidnap or kill me (a usual fixture of my dreams), and in this one I have another hot boyfriend.

I was in a tropical forest atmosphere.  Me and my parents were on holiday in Brazil (I presume it was Brazil) and I was walking through the forest by myself.  There was beautiful scenery and a warm breeze was caressing my skin.  I found my boyfriend Thore Schölermann (HOT German soap actor from Verbotene Liebe, he plays Christian *sigh*… if I ever had a bf as hot in real life as I do in my dreams, I will be very lucky!) and we walked through the forest talking and being intimate occasionally kissing etc.  We sat on a grassy slope and ended up talking and lying together for ‘hours’.

Here are some pictures of what he looks like:

Then I went back to this hut which was a restaurant, and my parents were sat there with some random teenagers, and we were all preparing to have dinner.  I remember there being a little bit of an atmosphere between me and my parents, and I sat at the table and there was this small black bowl with a spoon.  Inside the bowl, there were slices of miniature kiwi with this white scoop of ice cream, but I don’t think it was ice cream.  I began to eat it, when my mother told me that I was eating it wrong – instead of eating with the bowl on the table, you had to put your knees up on the sofa and scrunch up, rest the bowl on your knees (apparently the bowl was “specially designed” for this) and eat it there.  I don’t know why, but this was the last straw for me and I slammed the bowl down on the table and stalked off.  I went back into the forest to try and find Thore, but I don’t think I did (it’s all a bit hazy now), and I realised I had left my phone on the dining table so I went back to the hut and walked around the outside watching my parents interacting with the teenagers.  My mum was complaining about how dramatic and sulky I was, and the teenagers were laughing.  I was upset at what my parents thought of me, but I knew I had to get my phone back, so I sucked it up, walked in the other end of the restaurant, circled the table and plucked the phone out from between the empty bowls.  My mother and the teenagers ignored me as if I weren’t there.

The next thing I remember was that we were at home, and me and my father were having another argument – I don’t even remember about what.  We ended up not speaking to one another and then I logged onto my laptop, and started reading his work emails.  We ended up communicating to each other via email, and we sorted it out.   I realised via his work emails that him and his colleagues would discuss their families, and although again I was described as “temperamental and moody”, I was also “the clever one”, so it wasn’t all bad.  I also found out that the reason why my dad sometimes got stressed was because he had to work until gone 8pm every night, except for on a Friday when he could finish at 6:45.  He had no chance of becoming a manager, whilst his colleagues didn’t have to work so many hours and a couple of them were being promoted.  I remember feeling bad for him as he must have been frustrated, so I resolved to try and be a little more patient before having arguments.  There was other stuff, but I don’t remember it (and I don’t think there was any more Thore 😦 ).


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another dream.

August 23, 2009

If you know me, you know that I quite often have very strange dreams.  This is the third vivid one I’ve had this week, after one where my French assistant from university, Anna Winterstein, had come to take me to France in her truck with her boyfriend, except we drove through Clifton to get to Moscow, and from Moscow we were going to drive to France in this truck.  Dreams ≠ logic.  And the worst part was that in the dream, Anna Winterstein was a murderer and a child molester, having slept with a 15yo girl in one of her classes (this is clearly taken from an article I’d been reading in the Metro during the day, where a female music teacher had been convicted of the exact same thing); I pleaded with my dad not to send me with her, but he wouldn’t listen!

Then, I had another dream also set in Moscow (added scenes set in St. Petersburg) where me and my father had to pick up all the rubbish off the streets.  I don’t know why I have been so fixated on Russia in my dreams lately, I’m not reading anything to do with Russia, and I haven’t really come into contact with anything Russian over the last few days.  But last night’s dream was not related to Russia, but instead had elements from Italy and Spain, combined with Bristol (of course).

I was at home with Dad and it transpired that I was supposed to be on holiday in Italy somewhere, but we’d come home for a couple of days in the middle of the holiday for a break from the holiday.  However, I was secretly going to sneak away back to Italy.  Me and my friend Tom Main (from school, I haven’t seen him for years) were on the patio outside, and we had to distract our next door neighbour Julie so that I could get inside and pack my suitcase and leave without her seeing.  We looked through the gap in the breeze block (which was in the pattern of a flower) and then we started singing Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” in eerie high squeaky voices.  Sure enough, Julie came out of the house next door and into the garden to investigate.  We crept back inside out house and I went to start packing my things.  Then Tom Main disappeared and my other friend from school Flick Waite (again, not seen or spoken to her in years!) appeared in the front driveway.  She asked me if I was ready to go, and I said I wouldn’t be a minute, just packing my suitcase.  My dad was sat in the lounge and I decided to tell him upfront that I was going, he said “fine, if that was what I wanted to do”.  I went upstairs to my room to pack my things, and I was folding up my blankets from the bed and packing my phone charger and some cds and things, and I remember thinking I had to hurry because otherwise Flick would go without me.  She called my phone after 15 minutes and asked where I was, I said that I would be down in a minute.  I shoved more things into a suitcase and then ran down the stairs and realised I had forgotten to pack any clothes, but then that all the clothes I needed would be back in the wardrobe in Italy.  I went outside to meet Flick, and we got in a taxi and disappeared.

The next thing I remember is being in a car with my dad and Nonna, driving to a Spanish airport (I think it was Spanish because the scenery reminded me of Spain).  We were in a race against time so that we didn’t miss our flight, and also because I had the vague idea another car was chasing us.  My dad was explaining the different routes we could take as he drove, and he said that it was good to go the way we were going because we could drive any direction we liked.  The motorway was gridlocked but then suddenly two parallel tunnels appeared, a round one and a square one.  My dad explained that we were lucky because we could go through either one of them.  We drove into the square tunnel, and it turned into a computer game where we had to navigate twists and chicanes and avoid crashing into the walls.  The tunnel underground was made of beige square paving slabs.  Occasionally, there would be a car (it was like a sporty sleek red stock racing car) moving slowly towards us, but we would drive around it and eventually we made it out of the tunnel and to the airport, which was on a boat (!) in a harbour.  We got out of the car, and ran onto the boat and looked around duty free (there was an M&S) while we waited for the plane.

Then I don’t know what happened to the airport but I was at my godmother Margaret’s house, and she was looking through old photos which were up on a big slide projector on the wall.  I don’t know why, but she started laughing and joking about something, and I thought it was at me.  She told me not to be so silly, but I was convinced that she thought I was stupid for some reason in the photo, so I started sulking and eventually I went home.  Mum and Dad were at home, and I sat at the table with Mum, where we had a brief conversation.  Mum asked me if I remembered the Christmas where we both went shopping and bought Mariah Carey perfume.  I said yes, but then I hid my wrist under the table because I was wearing a different perfume and I didn’t want her to know.  So I changed the subject and told them about Margaret making fun of me and how upset I was, because I felt that she wasn’t respecting me as an adult.  Dad was sat in his chair watching tv, and told me not to be so stupid, and that older relatives are allowed to tease you when they want.  Mum told me to ignore him and said she understood how I felt, and not to take it personally because there was nothing wrong with me and I did not overreact.  I walked up to Dad in his armchair and I realised that his arm and his foot were deformed, like a thalidomide baby.  He looked quite grumpy and tried to get me and mum to shut up so he could watch his programme on tv.  I woke up a couple of times, drifted off, reminisced about parts of the dream and tried to make sure i would remember it when I finally woke up properly.

If anyone can shed any light on what any of this dream might mean, go for it!  Because honestly, I have no idea 😉

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the proposal.

August 17, 2009

In retrospect, this seems quite ironic considering that the last two days, I’ve been blogging about the wedding I attended on Saturday, but today I went to see The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds.  I really enjoyed the film, despite it being a relatively straightforward romantic comedy (I tend to prefer horror, action or thought-provoking foreign films) – I am thinking of going to the cinema on my own, because I tend to enjoy it much more as I see the films I want to see when I want to see them, and I don’t really get distracted by anyone accompanying me, feeling that they are gauging my reaction to the film (Karina notices when I don’t laugh in a comedy, and the others monitor when I go on Twitter / fall asleep in the midst of a boring film).

Being alone with my thoughts is something, as an only child, that I’ve always appreciated, but lately I seem to be actively taking days for myself.  Since I seem to be practically incapable of spending a whole day at home, if I have no prior engagements during the day, I take a book (finished Glamorama, am midway through Let The Right One In and bought American Psycho today for when I finish that.), put myself in a café and spend an hour reading and caffeinating.  Although it costs money I could save at home, it is distraction-free, I can wrap myself up in my music and my book and just let the world pass me by.

However, the danger of being in my own space is that sometimes my thoughts can spiral into melancholy.  And watching The Proposal, combined with the romantic proceedings of the wedding weekend and the immense perfection of Ryan Reynolds’ physique / character in the movie, I got a bit down.  I don’t know if it is envy, because I keep saying that I am appreciating the single life and enjoying not forcing myself into a relationship which doesn’t fit (been there, done that this year), or if it is just longing for someone to touch me and then still want to see me afterwards, but after the film I couldn’t restrain myself from texting Brett.  He is improving and learning to text me back and we have much more regular dialogue than in the early days, but we have still only seen each other in person once and that does not bode well for a future dating/relationship thing.  Who knows what is going on.  But today, I just needed to talk to somebody who is a possible feeling-reciprocator and to whom I feel close, at least in some way of communication.  I have learned to understand more the reasons why he doesn’t always text back or why he doesn’t often venture out to meet (it’s private really, but he’s had a few medication ups and downs lately), and in a way it’s nice that everything is progressing at a slow rate because it doesn’t consume me and I can get on with my own life and I feel like I am learning to be less neurotic. So Brett is teaching me these things.

Nevertheless dreams and fantasy are a little bit irresistible and I can’t help but imagine how good it would be just to have somebody I could rely on, someone who drives me a little bit crazy in a good way, because they are actually dating me or romantically involved with me or whatever.  As much as I enjoy my own space and being alone and doing whatever I need to do everyday without people bearing down on me, at other times I get lonely and want to just chill with somebody and talk or have fun or whatever.  I know that nobody can have it all, but to want for somebody to want to understand me doesn’t seem so far-fetched, does it?  I can’t imagine that all the love I have to give would just go to waste?  Youth is time to have fun and I want to have fun, but not just by myself, I want to share it with my friends and family and that someone special too.  I guess we’ll just never know until it happens, but I can’t be patient all the time and when I watch the speed-time-frames of films like The Proposal and the beautiful people contained within, I just wish I would find a supermodel and it would all just hurry up and work out happily ever after.  Now how’s that for far-fetched?

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holy matrimony.

August 16, 2009

Yesterday I had the privilege to attend the wedding of my friend Aiman to her boyfriend Phil.  They’d been dating for nearly 3 years, engaged for 8 months prior to yesterday’s wedding, and it seemed unreal to me that a girl I met 5 years ago who was so childlike and naive had grown into a young woman who is embarking on married life.  I know that a couple of my friends felt it was too young (Aiman is 24) to get married, and others really dislike her partner Phil for various reasons.  Myself, I feel that different things work for different people.  Phil is Aiman’s first boyfriend, and sometimes high-school sweethearts make it work, so I guess university sweethearts isn’t so far-fetched either.  And although I’ve heard various things about Phil’s temperament during the stormier parts of their relationship and their on-off periods, he’s always been perfectly nice to me and vaguely witty in conversation.  So I am happy for them both, and I sincerely hope that it all works out for them.

Sitting in the church with my friends (whom it was so good to see!), waiting for Aiman to enter and watching everyone else buzzing about, I actually felt nervous!  I mean, why? I didn’t think that Aiman was going to back out, and she wasn’t even late (uncharacteristic for her).  As I’ve explained, I was really happy for them to get married, and I guess there was only a tiny tiny part of me that thought that it may not have been the right decision, at least at this time – I suppose that’s normal, to be scared that something’s not going to work out, and to hope against hope that it does.  99% of me was genuinely happy sans reservations for them.  I guess that the nerves were from the fact that this was the first friend of mine who was taking the plunge into a new life with somebody, that she had grown up and changed so much, that it took a lot of bravery and courage to commit to such a life-changing decision.

Why is it life-changing? I started thinking about this logically – whether you’re in a church, a registry office, on a beach or in a football field – the venue may have different levels of solemnity (also depending on who marries you and whether they think they are a stand-up comic – the pastor was atrocious!  “the 6 most important words in any marriage: ‘I admit I made a mistake.'” What a thing to say at a WEDDING.  Come on now.) but the act is essentially the same: you’re declaring and committing your love for another.  If you both agree to get married, and you both are in love (which, ideally speaking, you should be!), then there’s nothing to be afraid of.  I think its the combination of the venue, having family and friends around you, and the gravitas that always comes with such an event; that gravitas is what, I suppose, made me feel nervous for a few minutes as the wedding was starting.

Would I like to get married?  I dreamed about getting engaged in sixth form (obviously that never happened, which was probably a good thing, in retrospect), thinking that it would have been cool and romantic.  The two people in my sixth form who did get both engaged and pregnant before finishing were a topic of debate, and not usually in a positive way – too young, too soon, too much etc. The dreams we have for ourselves, as soon as they turn into a reality for someone else, seem to suddenly acquire pitfalls, pros and cons, and more serious consideration than we originally had for them when they were just fantasies in our heads.  Something we imagine to be so positive suddenly becomes negative – are we hateful people who can’t be happy for another?  I don’t think so – like I said, I was genuinely so happy for my friends yesterday on their wedding day.  But for me to get married would be something entirely incomprehensible to the single, 23-yo me right now.  If it were to happen, I am sure I could make it work, but I don’t really feel in the right space or time for marriage right now.  I always imagined being single, but even if I ended up happily with somebody, I don’t think I would want to push for marriage immediately.  I want to enjoy single life, and I want to enjoy dating, and I want it to feel right in its own time.  And I am sure that yesterday, for Aiman and Phil, it felt right and that is the most important thing of all – in love, your hearts being in the right place goes a long way towards making everything work.

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hoax.

August 12, 2009

I remember a quote from Cruel Intentions which is a great place for me to start today.  At some point, Sarah Michelle Gellar’s character says to Selma Blair’s character re. sex (I think), “Everybody does it, but nobody talks about it.”  I feel that I am on to discovering something about office work.

Largely, people sit around doing nothing.

Ok, you can all feel free to say “duh”, but let me walk you through my day at work today.  It is not very long and not particularly exciting.

08:50 Arrive at work, open up my laptop and discover my boss is not going to be in at all this week.  (I only work Weds – Fri)  So much for needing to be “supervised”!  Ever since the first two days of my job, I have worked unaccompanied and contact my boss (who works from home) via email.  Mine are full and courteous and punctuated and friendly, his are one-line responses which suggest he doesn’t really like using the computer.  I won’t take it personally though, because this appears to be how everyone communicates at the hospital.

09:00 I set about delivering the small amounts of stock that need to be distributed to wards.  At the dental hospital, I encounter an intercom that nobody appears to answer.  After 5 minutes, a man walks up to me and informs me that he can’t let me in because he “doesn’t know who I am”.  I show him my clerical NHS badge and he decides to help me.  Once inside the building, I find all the admin desks are manned, so why nobody was answering the intercom remains a mystery to me.

11:15 I attend a Swine Flu Information presentation for half an hour, which involves watching a Powerpoint Presentation while a nurse delivers incredibly obvious statements such as: “Swine flu is different from seasonal flu, because you can catch swine flu all the year round” (I nearly raise my hand and respond “yes, this month is August and therefore not the winter”, but restrain myself) and “if you think you might have swine flu, go on the swine flu website”.  Nevertheless, I stay awake.

12:30 After returning from the presentation, I start doing some more Health & Safety online training (which I’m supposed to do as part of my induction, just as I am supposed to be “supervised” at the start of my placement).  Halfway through a module, it decides to not work, so I go for lunch to McDonalds.  The queue is ridiculous, especially considering that there is another McDonalds about 5 minutes’ walk away.  Obviously it’s the eating venue of choice in central Bristol.  I haven’t been for a couple of months in the interest of my health, but I indulge today and my burger and chips and dips are suitably yummy.  I read some more of Glamorama, which I am thoroughly enjoying.  Bret Easton Ellis is my authorial discovery of the year methinks! (I know, I am late)

13:30 I return to the office, making small talk with one of the nurses and encountering no success with running my Health & Safety tutorial.  I do a couple of other tasks, then return and call the IT Helpdesk for the third day running on this job.  (I have worked there a total of 4 days.) I inform them of the problem, and the guy valiantly tries to fix it through remote access to my laptop.  Of course, he fails.  I am promised that an engineer will contact me and come to fix the connection issue.  The nurse in the adjacent office tells me just to use one of the vacant computers at a nearby desk, and I finish my tutorial.  I “learn” how to roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders and wiggle my fingers, all in the interests of maintaining flexibility in my limbs and avoiding RSI.  I also defiantly slouch in my chair, rather than obeying the rigid recommended posture (with a picture of a spinal column for my reference).

16:15 I call the IT helpdesk for a third time to inform them that I will be going home, as the engineer hasn’t called and if he were to call now, I wouldn’t be there.  The man on the other end of the phone believes that I am implying that the engineer did not come fast enough, and begins to get huffy with me.  Those exercises came in useful after all: I copiously roll my eyes.  I am promised that somebody will call tomorrow.  I go to the nurse next door, Julia, who has kindly volunteered to sign my timesheet in my boss’ absence, except nobody knows what band or code I am supposed to be entered under.  We go down the corridor to the temp bank office, who inform us that “it doesn’t matter, they can fill it in”.  Julia is as bemused as me, and I go home.

My day seemed to be a battle to find things to do.  I spent quite a lot of empty periods smoking, texting, on MSN on my phone, playing Minesweeper on my laptop, and although I perhaps shouldn’t be complaining, I really am not stimulated!  I am slightly warmed by the fact that I am getting paid for this.  My boss constantly reminds me to “take my time” because I apparently complete his tasks too quickly, but I don’t exactly rush.  Being unsupervised and left to my own devices, and considering that my job involves walking all over the hospital, I could quite happily walk to Starbucks for an hour and have a coffee and read my book, undiscovered and getting paid for it all the while.  I’m not sure if I feel audacious enough to do this, but considering that my boss already emailed me saying “tomorrow will be a light day” (as if today were a heavy one!!!!!!!11), the fact I’m considering it doesn’t bode well.  Well, it does for Starbucks’ pockets and for my caffeine intake, I suppose.  But if this is the working world, and if this is how most people work (I reiterate that I work in a hospital, where time is usually of the essence and in principle, lives hang in the balance) day to day, I am going to need more stimulation.  I dream of working for Gucci, for Armani, for Prada and shaping the whole world through fashion while rushing from place to place, flanked by fabulous forward-thinking fashionistas and speaking into 3 different cell phones in 3 different languages.  I dream of being a famous singer and travelling day and night from country to country, singing and dancing my ass off and making hordes of people smile and laugh.  I don’t particularly dream of daydreaming (how meta) as I sit uninterrupted at my desk, typing emails and maintaining spreadsheets, but I guess it is better than the Perfume Shop! It’s certainly easier work for better status and pay, but I just feel like I am uncovering a big hoax, that the people who do supposedly vital or important jobs aren’t really any brighter than you or me (often, less so).  I guess that I should have known all along. *rolls eyes*