Posts Tagged ‘the Perfume Shop’

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ain’t it funny.

September 22, 2009

Following on from yesterday’s blog, just a quick update: Mike and I have a new recruit to Smoker’s Circle: Emma.  Lo and behold, Emma is the woman who sings in the soul covers band, and one of the people who took most interest in my musical prowess.  So I feel relieved that she likes a bit of nicotine every now and then too!  And perhaps I’m not being as judged as I thought, haha.

Ain’t it funny how little things get resolved?  Already today I learned the way to the cash machine and back; I have consolidated some friendships from yesterday; I feel a little more on top of what we are expected to do.  I keep wondering what I will do when I run into H from the Perfume Shop (it is bound to happen; we work and study in the same block).  I will not shout, I will not rant, I will not ask her how could she stand by and let them make me a scapegoat for everything that has gone wrong in their shop since I’ve been gone.  I did nothing wrong, and if they were talking about me in September when I left in June, then in a backhanded way, that’s a compliment to me and shows just how much of an impact I made on them.  I don’t want to let any of them know that their backstabbing made an impact on me.

So what I’m gonna do is this: I am going to smile and her, and say hello, and greet her like a friend.  She will never really be a close friend of mine again, and I will never trust her.  But I did what I needed to do, which was get out of that shop and get a better job and start improving my life.  And they did what they needed to do, which was blame me for things I never did, bitch about me despite the fact that I was the one they would come to with all their problems, and pretend to be nice to my face all the while.  That’s what they need to do to stay in the workplace, and that’s fine.  I don’t want to be there anymore, and I have no control over what they do there.  That’s their choice, and I have moved on.  In a way, H had the right idea: like Ayn Rand’s theory of Objectivism, “You should never do anything for me”.  The girls at the Perfume Shop never did anything for me – they put themselves first and once I was gone, they blamed me for everything in order to ease their consciences and facilitate their working life, I guess.  I had the wrong idea, because the whole time I was working there, I never put myself first nearly enough: “I should never have done anything for them”. I would call in every week or speak on the phone; I would listen to H crying and worrying about her uni course and assignments; I would advise them what to do if the shutter wouldn’t come down or the shop was evacuated for two hours; I would cover up H’s counting mistakes on stocktakes, and just recount them myself without saying a word to our manager. And I will never do anything for any of them again.  So H and I may be friendly towards one another – I’ll be civil and nice enough towards her.  But I will never do anything for her again.  Because just as they are all about them, now it’s time for me to be all about me.  I have better friends to whom I prefer to devote my time, and in whom I can trust more.  When H finally gains the courage to leave the Perfume Shop, I wonder what they will say about her?

I will make it a point never to find out.

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fight or flight.

September 13, 2009

Tonight I met up with Adam to wish him well as he moves back home to Devon, and we went to Cabot Circus for some drinks at Giraffe and a meal at Gourmet Burger Kitchen.  Walking into Cabot Circus, I bumped into my friend Annie who works at Harvey Nichols; we exchanged pleasantries and enquired about each others jobs – the usual.  As I said goodbye to her, I walked along towards the Cabot entrance by Zara, and I saw what suspiciously looked like a group of my old colleagues from the Perfume Shop.  After the untruths that they have been telling both themselves and other people, I really have nothing to say to them so I turned around and walked into Cabot the other way.  Walking back past Annie, I said to her “actually, this way is quicker!”  She laughed, my excuse was made so that I didn’t look totally bizarre, and I met Adam, positioned overlooking the escalators so I could hide should the Perfume Shop crew be approaching my direction.

This is the second time recently that I have had this sort of reaction: to want to actively avoid certain people.  It happened when I was in Zara with Hannah and my ex L was at the till, and it happened tonight.  In both cases, I turned around and walked the other way.  Was this the right response?  After all, I have nothing to be ashamed of: I never meant to hurt L the way that I did, and it was his choice not to accept or to believe my apology and explanation for what happened.  I never stole anything from the Perfume Shop, and I never gave discount to anyone I didn’t know, no matter what they say.  I don’t feel any guilt, and there is no reason for me to be ashamed.  So why did I walk away?

It was the fight or flight response.  In each case, I made a very swift judgement call, and in both cases my brain told me to get out of there.  Part of me resents that; like I said, I don’t have anything to feel ashamed for, so why should I leave? Why should I run away?  Isn’t it the stronger thing, the better thing to stand there and fight and show that I’m not going to be cowed or intimidated by anyone?  That I believe in my own convictions?

But nevertheless, I chose to avoid the confrontation.  Perhaps it is just easier to get out of there; to avoid things being said that might worsen the situation, to get into an uncomfortable exchange that might only leave an unpleasant aftertaste more bitter than that which lingers already.  Although part of me feels that I should stand my ground, another part feels that the more mature thing is just to rise above it and conduct my life along a different path.  I have plenty of my own shit to focus on without dealing with other people’s shit.  I don’t need to deliberately put myself in the vicinity of their insecurities and problems, because even if I have no reason to run away, it doesn’t mean I should purposely seek out such a confrontation.  I had a lovely evening tonight, and had I approached my old colleagues, that could very well have been ruined before it had even started.  So even if I should have been unashamed to stand my ground, I stand by my decision to choose a more positive alternative and bypass the negativity altogether.  Avoiding a toxic situation is preferable to fighting poison, because even in fighting it you risk becoming poisoned yourself.  Sometimes we have to choose our fights, and whether it’s best to fight on, or to fly high; this time, I chose to fly high.

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powerless.

September 12, 2009

“My life can never be anything without you.”

That is what Graham said after Jill’s death last week.  It was in the Evening Post Deaths section.  My mother was saddened and a bit confused.  My father was convinced that someone at the newspaper must have got the wording wrong.  I don’t know.  I mean, my mother knows Graham best out of the three of us (I have only met him once; I don’t believe my father has ever met him at all), but by his own admission he is a very private person and isn’t particularly upfront with his emotions.  So I don’t know if he meant to word himself in that way, if it was a typo, if it was just his expression of sadness and grief that came out a tiny bit wrong.  Perhaps it was a combination of all three, who knows.

But it got me thinking.  I don’t know if I would ever be able to say that about anyone, no matter what. I don’t know if I would want to.  I envision falling in love with somebody and the whole experience complimenting and transforming my life, but not leaving me totally powerless without that person.  I mean, no matter how smitten, no matter how rich or successful or romantic or attractive my partner eventually is, I don’t think that I could ever let myself be totally dependent on someone to the point that if they left me, for whatever reason or however it happened, I could be nothing without them.  I wouldn’t want that.  I was talking to Hannah last night about guys and about someone she’s been chatting to who seems entirely too dependent.  I asked her whether I came across as needy, and she replied no, the exact opposite.

This pleased me, and this was what I had hoped to hear.  But then I asked her whether I came across as so independent to the point of being intimidating.  Her reply stopped short of intimidating, but she said that I do come across as very self-sufficient.  Reading between the lines, this meant that sometimes I didn’t need to be so afraid of appearing vulnerable in front of anyone.  I am grateful that I can have a friend who understands me so much, she knows how to express a sentiment tactfully yet honestly, and I can understand exactly what she means.  This, to me, is much more important than a boyfriend who might come and go.  Obviously I want to have it all, and this includes the boyfriend who hopefully stays.  But whether I need to be a little more soft around the edges, I still have friends who like me just the way I am.  I think that in every relationship there needs to be a certain amount of compromise, but I also believe that it has to stop short of totally compromising yourself for the other person.  Because otherwise, before you know it, your world revolves around them and if they disappear, you’re left at rock bottom.  Perhaps it’s because I’ve never really been in love (apart from with Gucci and with Rafael Verga), but I’m just not willing to put myself in that situation.  I will think about guys and treat my friends and boyfriends well and think about them a lot, but I will never stop caring about myself.  Self-esteem has been (and to an extent, still is) a hard uphill battle for me, and I’m not willing to totally surrender it now, or ever.

It is easy for relationships to consume you.  I was discussing what happened at the Perfume Shop with Nick today, and with a little bit of perspective on it, I guess that it was easier to blame me for things going missing there because I am no longer a part of their world, than to confront their problems that the thief is still there.  I’m an easy target because I can’t defend myself, because I got out of there and they are still in that world.  When I worked there, I was doing 38 hours a week, and they were my circle of friends.  I would visit them on my days off, or at the very least phone to see how things were going.  I put my all in there for 11 months, and I was assistant manager / store manager for 10 of those.  So escaping from that environment was a blessing for me, but it also made me realise just how unhealthy it is when a job becomes more than a job.  I guess that a certain amount of restraint from total consumption, absorption, obsession with your work is a very good thing.  And perhaps it is the same with relationships.  Even if you create a world within that relationship which is just for the two of you, which is sometimes irresistible and timeless, there is a real world which keeps on turning outside of that, and we have to stay connected to that.  I want to give someone all my love.  But all my love is not all of me, and love doesn’t (and shouldn’t) equate to power.  I don’t ever want to be powerless, not for anyone, and not for myself.

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xx.

September 10, 2009

Bear with me, hold on tight, make yourself comfortable and spark up or pour yourself a drink or grab a Haagen Daaz or whatever your preferred method of relaxation is. This might take a while.

Last Wednesday I bumped into my friend Ebony, whom I hadn’t seen in a quite a while, and whom various colleagues of mine while I worked at the Perfume Shop had tried to contact only to no avail.  I had realised that she must have changed her number or had some kind of phone dilemma, because she isn’t the kind of person just to suddenly blank you.  So when I bumped into her, she explained that her bag (containing her phone, among other things) had been stolen a few months ago, and she had a new phone with a new number, but had lost her old numbers.  We swapped digits, discussed the shop, what she’d been up to since finishing uni and what I’d been up to since leaving TPS and starting my new job at the hospital.  I mentioned that one of my colleagues at the shop had been upset that Ebony hadn’t been in touch, so she promised that she would go in.

Today she visited, and apparently they had some interesting things to say about me.  I found this out via a text Ebony sent me this afternoon, asking me whether “certain things she had heard” were true.  I asked what “things” they had said. Apparently, I had “left under a cloud”, and once I had left, I had returned a couple of times to visit, and had “admitted to taking from the shop”.

Apart from a big “LOL WTF?”, I replied that none of this was true.  The only thing I had “taken from the shop” was a free Armani bag, which was a year-old Gift With Purchase (i.e. a free gift you get when you buy a Giorgio Armani men’s fragrance, that has no monetary value and once the offer expires, is free to be given away with any purchase at the sales assistant’s discretion, in order to drive sales).  I had originally got this Armani bag as a GWP myself, buying a limited edition bottle of Emporio Armani He in the summer of 2008.  Eventually, the faux-leather front flap of the bag started to peel, and it looked quite shabby.  After being overworked and underpaid by the shop, and with there being a fair amount of tension between myself and the manager (due to changing rules to specifically prevent me from attending interviews, among other things), I felt that the least the shop owed me was a free bag to replace the one I had which was falling apart.  So I took it.  A free bag.  And back in July, I popped into the shop and my ‘friend’ H who still works there asked me where I got the bag from.  I didn’t see the point in lying (after all, these freebies were and are given away to staff all the time as incentives / rewards) so I said it was from downstairs – in retrospect, more fool me.  Despite the fact that the bag is not worth anything, despite the fact that these gifts get given to staff all the time, and despite the fact I had given various colleagues similar expired GWPs as rewards, this was “scandalous”.  I didn’t understand why it was a big deal, and I was shocked at the reaction, so I asked H not to say anything.  However, H was there with S, who is (to be blunt) all mouth and no brain.

So today, receiving the news that the shop thought I had stolen things (stock had been going missing both before and since I left, and the people who still work there are being investigated – I guess I was an easy person to blame, despite the fact I never stole ANYTHING – I did the majority of stockchecks so why would I put so much effort into counting endless boxes of perfume if I were the thief?) was a surprise.  Not because I didn’t think that this could happen – I know people better than that, and having a mini nervous breakdown at the start of this week was largely caused by losing faith in people’s perception of me.  But because I didn’t think that it would.  After how hard I worked at that shop, after managing it for 3 months by myself, after giving S’s daughter a Christmas present and being such a good friend to them all – they honestly think that I could be such a thief?  It’s disappointing.  And it’s hilarious that I took the bag in March. I told them in July.  It’s now September, and they’re still talking about it?  News must be slow and life must be dull for them.

I explained this to Ebony (who thought the whole thing was ridiculous and kinda dumb), along with a similar story where after Kulthum (another nice colleague of mine from the shop, who left last autumn for a new job) left the shop after not being able to work her full notice, my manager told me that Kulthum had “admitted to stealing money from the shop”.  In light of the false accusations that have been levelled at me, I doubt very much that this is true.  My manager told me not to tell anyone, and the difference is that unlike H and S who have seen fit to escalate the fact that I took a freebie into suspicion that I stole full bottles of fragrance and maybe even more, I never told anyone what she had told me about Kulthum.  Ebony made a very good point that if you steal money or stock from a shop and you are found out (whether you confess or otherwise), it’s gross misconduct and you are sacked that day; nobody lets you serve out half of your notice first.  I feel a little silly for even entertaining the rumour, although part of me never believed it and I kept up my friendship with Kulthum nevertheless – after all, she was never nasty to me and it was none of my business whether she took anything from the shop or not – the shop isn’t my baby, my family nor my be all and end all.  Rumours about other past employees have come and gone, but I never really broke contact with anyone I got on with because of these rumours – I am able to keep my mouth shut and I prefer to judge people on their own merits.  It’s just sad that not everybody does that.

I enjoy gossip like everyone else. But the sad thing is gossiping at someone’s expense, accusing them of things that are totally untrue. I am quite confident Kulthum never took the money – regardless, I never told anyone that she had been accused of it.  I never took anything from the shop other than that free bag. If they want to say that they think I did, because it’s easier to backstab me and accuse me now that I’m gone and can’t defend myself rather than face the fact that whoever the thief is, she’s still in the store. I’m no liar, I’m no gossiper, and I’m no thief.  I know that.  I have no intention of going in there and clearing things up – they should know me better from the year and a half I worked my butt off there and was a friend to every one of them.  They don’t.  Let them talk about me and perpetuate untruths if that’s what it takes to make their days more interesting.  It’s sad, and disappointing.

Hannah and my mother (who has been in a very similar situation herself) both said that this is one of the dangers of working with girls.  I don’t necessarily agree, as I get on with a lot of women, and everyone has the facility to be bitchy.  But a group of xx chromosomes can definitely be dangerous, and they can double cross (“x x” – see what I did there? Not just a pretty face!)… it’s whatever to me.  I have a new job, a better job (more money, more responsibility & more professionalism with less silly rules!), working with adults (men & women) rather than gossipy young kids who take 1 + 1 and get 1000.  If I see them in the street, I will rise above it and say hello with a smile on my face, as if nothing were wrong.  Because I have done nothing wrong.  But they’ll never be my friends again – the person they seem to think I am or want to portray me as is nothing like who I actually am.  They should have known better. And I should have known better than to trust that they wouldn’t double cross me once I was out the door.  Not a lesson learned, but a lesson reiterated… And we rise above!  Kisses to the haters… xx again. 😉

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self-control.

September 7, 2009

The past couple of days, I have been in various situations which have prompted me to think about the values of restraint and self-control.  Most of the time they are positive: I have a spreadsheet on my computer to track my evening snacking, and in the last 6 months I have managed to reduce my evening snacking to only 29% of a month (this is more difficult and more impressive than it sounds, believe me).  Restraining from this has complemented my gym regime and I’ve lost weight and toned up as a result.  I’ve been restraining from spending too much and buying too many pretty things because it’s only now that I’ve got money coming in again, and despite enduring desperate cravings for certain items, I realised that these cravings pass and I don’t need the things I think I need as much as I do.  (I am still getting that Gucci bracelet in the next month or so, make no mistake.) After wrecking my Nintendo DS during a bout of throwing a Naomi I have been making a conscious effort not to get so annoyed at Street Fighter IV on my PS3, and just taking a breather when I get frustrated.  I have been cutting down on my cigarettes only to preserve my voice, and it seems to be helping (or at least not getting worse), and I don’t feel quite as guilty.

Today at work, I seemed to be having a good day, working for my two bosses Cass and Kerry.  I was mainly helping Kerry today with endless spreadsheets, and I’ll continue doing that tomorrow.  However, Cass popped his head around the door after lunch and asked me if I could help him move some boxes from one room back to another (where they originally were, and where I moved them from right at the beginning of my job about 6 weeks ago). I felt sorry for him when he found out they had to go back, and it turns out that when I agreed to “help” him, I would actually be doing it by myself.  Fine, I said, I would go and do it when I came to a break with Kerry’s stuff, which I did.  I was barely physically able to move one of the cages full of stock (there were 6, Cass had told me there were 5) – Cass envisioned the whole task would take an hour or so, and then I could reload the cages once I was finished.  After 2 cages, the second of which I had to get a policeman to help me with when it came to pushing it up the slope towards its destination, I was aching and drenched in sweat.  And quite pissed off!  I couldn’t do any more, Cass had gone for the day so I couldn’t explain that the cages were just too heavy for me to physically move (and I am no weakling), and there was no way it was possible for me to empty them all before the end of the day, let alone fill them up with more stock.  (I am also quite confident that Cass did not fill up the cages himself, otherwise he would not have asked me to transfer them all within one hour, because he would have realised that that was an unrealistic and fairly dangerous demand!) I felt that I might let him down in some way (though I hope he will understand, he is usually very reasonable) and I hope that he knows by now that I am the farthest thing from workshy.  It’s just not physically possible for me to do, especially not within tonight’s time constraints.  Tomorrow if I have half a day to do it, and the cages are split into (much) smaller loads, it might be possible.  We’ll see.

In addition to this considerable irritation, I was trying to call my mother at work to get a lift home on her way back, since I was staying at work later than usual; it took me over an hour to get through to her work on the phone, and even then when her colleague answered the phone, he asked me to call back again in 5 minutes (I said no, and told him that I would rather my mother called me back – I think I had been calling that shop enough for one day).  So I was quite annoyed about that, although in both cases I know that nobody was deliberately at fault, and that I should keep my rapidly rising anger in check.  Somehow, I managed to do this, and me and my mum exchanged stories about our frustrating days on the journey home.  I bought 2 dvds at Tesco (Bride Wars & Notorious) and plan to relax with some chocolate Mars drink and good pudding (tonight will be a night where I probably will snack – I plead extenuating circumstances!) watching one of them.

The final straw tonight was when I got home from work with my mother, only to have problems deleting a message from our answerphone (which hates me); apparently, it senses my finger on the delete button and refuses to work, though I have witnessed my mother deleting messages and she does nothing different from what I do.  My parents both made a comment and I exploded, prompting my father to mock my “grumpiness”.  I stormed off (I was definitely grumpy, but there was no need to point it out – what do you think you are going to achieve by highlighting my bad mood?  Certainly not make me feel better…) and sat in the small computer room on the floor, and my mum came in and said that just after I’d left, he had done the same thing to her (her day had not been great either).  I didn’t have a massive explosion of anger, but there just comes a point where you can hold things in and hold things in and be aware of not pushing your anger or frustration or emotions onto other people, but just holding your tongue and taking deep breaths and dealing with frustration calmly and rationally… and it all spills out anyway.  Some people just don’t seem to realise that they pile burden on top of burden on top of you, and I’m not superhuman – eventually, after enough pressure, I snap, just like anyone else.  Is that a fault of mine?  Should I have more self-control?  Or is it an issue where I restrain too much and let things build up? When is it right to not say anything and deal with your issues by yourself for fear of upsetting or alienating someone else, and when is the time to speak up and say “I can’t take anymore”, before you explode?  How do you know when the right time to do that is?  In short, how do you predict when enough is enough?

As I said at the start of the post, although I recognise I have a temper (which developed due to Street Fighter and also due to various trying situations at the Perfume Shop), I am fairly good at controlling it, especially around other people.  But yesterday, discussing Jill’s death with my parents, I think I was the one who put my foot in my mouth.  I was asking about what kind of cancer she had died of – a reasonable question, I thought.  My mother didn’t know.  I found it odd that Jill’s husband, despite the fact he had spoken to my mother at least 3 times in the past couple of weeks and had asked her to pass on updates of Jill’s health to mutual friends of hers and my mother’s, had neglected to mention what type of cancer she was actually suffering from.  I understand people being private, especially in times of suffering and grief, but I thought that generally, people suffer from lung cancer or breast cancer or cancer of the womb or cancer of something.  If you say “She has cancer”, the automatic question is surely “cancer of what?” I found this weird that nobody seemed to know, and that Graham had not passed on this vital piece of information to my mother, especially if my mother was then supposed to inform other people herself.  And yet, my parents were both like “you don’t ask that kind of thing!” I understand not wanting to probe into someone’s grief, but I found it strange that the question had not been asked, and even stranger that my mother hadn’t been told in the first place!  Yet after our discussion, I felt like I was somehow unfeeling or tactless, and that I had said the wrong thing (my father’s sister also died of cancer – to this day, me and my mother know very little about it).  I guess that everyone deals with death in their own way, and I understand that grief is a private and individual process that not everyone wants to share or shout about.  But I don’t understand people not asking basic questions; I later spoke to my mum about it and she said that I hadn’t upset her at all, but that as you get older, you learn more and more as you get older not to disturb others’ fragile emotional states.  I understand this already, but I just don’t know the rules about what you talk about and what you don’t talk about in times like these.  If we don’t speak up and ask questions, even about fragile or poignant situations, how do we become better informed? Is it more respectful to be silent and remain in ignorance? Is restraint really the better option in this instance?  I don’t get why people don’t talk about these things.  If we did, then maybe it would clarify, if not ease the grieving process / understanding of exactly why Jill died.  So I don’t really know at all just how much restraint or self-control is a good thing after all.

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so sexy.

September 3, 2009

Tonight I have had sort of 10 cocktails & far too much food, so I’m not feeling at my intellectual peak.  However, I’m going to blog anyway!  As much as I’m feeling buzzed off the alcohol and also off having had a lovely evening with my friends, I do have something to say.  We were at Giraffe in Cabot Circus from 4:30 until 6:15ish drinking drinking drinking, and Karina has a friend who works there.  I will save his embarrassment because I don’t actually know how to spell his name, but he was foreign and incredibly cute (and talkative too!).  And perhaps it is part of the whole façade mentality that I have, where you have to project the best possible image and attitude of yourself at all times, but I found myself trying my hardest to be cool and aloof and funny all at once.  He probably didn’t even notice, but it seems to be a “flirt autopilot” with me.

And then, at Frankie & Benny’s (where we consumed all of the aforementioned food), a group of guys came in while we were eating dessert (cinnamon waffle crunch mmm-mmm), and my head nearly span off its axis.  Again, I blame the drink, but I can’t help but notice when someone is attractive to me.  Normally, I try to act as nonchalant as possible, because I don’t expect any comeback off it, and it’s just the same as when you know somebody is checking you out, you act as if they don’t exist because you don’t want to call attention to them nor give them the slightest impression that they have a chance or that you think they could possibly be on your level.  I don’t know if it’s a strategy of playing hard to get, or just being as ice-king as possible (I prefer to believe it is the latter), but I would never expect someone to return my stares, and I would never acknowledge anyone’s interest or flirtations with me.  Perhaps it’s just another one of my counterproductive “I want a boyfriend but I refuse to settle for just anyone, but why am I single?” stratagems.

Which gets me to thinking, I have many, many celebrity crushes.  Singers, actors, models, Brazilians, footballers… I have been addicted to them all for many years now.  And perhaps that is why my standards (and the standards of those people who are like me) are so high, perhaps too high… We expect visual perfection.  We expect floss and ice.  We expect the finest things. We expect a heart of gold within a body of sin.  And when we go on dates and take people out, that is what we try and provide to the best of our ability.  But all too often, somewhere along the line our expectations are just too high, and people fall short.  I think it takes two, and perhaps I should be more realistic as much as my date should step up to the plate and put in a bit more effort… but then in real life, after a phase of disappointment, I start to relax my standards and appreciate the “everyman”. Be they scruffy, unshaven, slightly damaged… we become more accepting of flaws before we really stop and think what we are letting ourselves in for.  All too many times while I was working at the Perfume Shop, dates of mine would stop by to meet me after work / during lunch / to say hi, and my friend Henna would always tell me after they left “What are you doing? Did you see how he looked? You could do so much better.”  And ultimately, between immature boyfriends and disinterested players, she’s been proved right every time.  Despite my attraction to guys whom I might more feasibly find in Bristol, and feeling that this attraction is a bit more realistic and accepting of real people’s flaws and quirks… I’m disappointed every time, so I go back to the high celebrity standards and looking out for those model-ready rich boys.  And the cycle begins again.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say in this post, beyond a dual acknowledgement of the hotness of so many guys in the Bristol area (the genuinely hot and the somewhat hot), and the fact that so few are truly eligible for me, be it because of the flirting games and unspoken protocols that exist or because I put up with too much shit before realising it can’t go on.  If Karina’s friend wants to call me, he definitely can 😉  But you know, I’m sure that it wouldn’t work.  And that’s more than just the alcohol talking.

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run this town.

September 2, 2009

On a day like today, despite having less than 5 hours’ sleep and nearly 30 pages of spreadsheet to type up onto the computer at work, I was feeling fierce.  I got up earlier than usual so that I could get to work early and make my hours & fit my social breaks in too.  I had my new top on from Zara and I looked pretty nice, if I do say so myself. (There’s nothing like wearing a new purchase for the first time.) As you might know, at times my self-esteem can be a little bit low and I can feel vulnerable and insecure – as much as I would like to pretend to be invincible, I’m only human.  But I also think it’s important to acknowledge and document when I’m feeling up and strong and good.  For every negative, sooner or later there comes a positive.

Looking at another unemployment report on the news, and recognising the jobless state of 1 in 6 UK young people as myself only 6 weeks ago, I felt that if I could find work, these people will do too.  If you really want it, there is hope, even though you might feel hopeless.  Just don’t give up.  Everyone is down sometimes – as much as some vindictive people might want to make you feel low, it doesn’t make you a failure or any less of a human being.  You just have to take a moment, acknowledge your pain or mood, regroup and come back swinging.  After a summer where I left my job at the Perfume Shop in full faith that my new job was going to be better paid and a better standard of work, I had to wait around for 2 months before I even got a start date.  Now that I am working, I am pretty happy with my job – my office is comfortable, the people I’m with are nice, my boss appreciates and respects me, the pay rate is higher than what I was on at the shop and I don’t have to bust a gut, while I am treated with more respect and my brains and skill generally is more appreciated.  I don’t feel like I am fighting against anyone just to get through the day – I feel like I am generally being helpful and other people want to help me too – it’s constructive and not an uphill struggle.  Looking back, although I loved working with perfume and some of my colleagues at the Perfume Shop ended up being good friends to me, I dreaded going to work more often than I should have, and I ended up feeling bullied and harrassed at work by people who wanted to wring every last drop of blood out of me.  I was worth more than that, and it took me too long to realise.  The limbo of being unemployed in between that job and my current work at the hospital only exacerbated that feeling of helplessness and worthlessness, when I had unwittingly pushed myself into that limbo precisely because I thought I was worth more.  It was a hard period, and I felt somewhat embarrassed and stigmatised to be in that situation, because I didn’t want to be judged as somebody who was “on the dole” or “too lazy to be in work”, because that is the farthest thing from who I am or ever will be.  But I didn’t give up and everything is turning out right – I like my job, they like me, and I got funding for my university course starting in 3 weeks (!!!) and I hope that that will lead me in a direction I want to go.  I feel optimistic about my future.

Which is why I don’t understand the attitude of some of my old colleagues who practically blank me when I walk past them in town.  It happened today, and it’s not the first time.  Despite the hugs and best wishes everyone gave me when I left, apart from the times I’ve popped in to visit them, I’ve heard nothing.  What happened to friendship? What happened to all the hard work? What happened to all the favours I did, conversations we had, presents I bought, music I bootlegged for them?  Did it really mean nothing?  I mean, surely a friendship should go two ways, so if they want to speak to me, they can contact me.  I grew tired of making the first move and initiating conversation by popping in to see them.  It makes me question whether their friendship was ever true.  Like I said, some of the people there I’m sure were genuine friends, and we don’t have to talk all the time for that to remain true.  But to be ignored in the street, to be judged and hear gossip about me that not only is untrue, but is damn unfair considering how much I bent over backwards and did so many favours for some of them – it does sting a little bit.  I guess it’s “c’est la vie”, and I have to remember that I am in a better place now.  I made the decision to break free, and I guess that their reaction is part of the whole reason why I was so dragged down while I worked there – perhaps they don’t like that I found somewhere where I feel more valued (and paid)?  Perhaps they decided to villify me once my back was turned because it makes them feel better about the fact that there is nobody to be their workhorse now that I’m gone? I don’t know.  I wish them only the best, and I hope that some of my friends realise that they too are worth too much to be downtrodden and worked to the bone at a young age there, only to never get the prime position because there’s always someone new who swoops in and pushes them back down.

If you’re wondering why there is a fly picture of Rihanna at the top of this post (not that I need a reason 😛 ), check the title – it’s taken from the “Run This Town” video from Jay-Z’s new Blueprint 3 album (which I am really feeling).  The swagger of the song, epitomised just by the title, is something that I was feeling today in my nice clothes with my nice friends and in my nice job.  I’m working hard, I’m moving up after a brief (but long enough thankyou) period of stasis, and I am determined to achieve my goals and “run this town”.  I hit the gym to look fly.  I socialise to enjoy myself.  I make music to achieve my dreams of being a singer (once again, check Touch Me and enjoy it – there’s plenty more where that came from!) and also to push my artistry forward and entertain my friends.  I make money to hit the gym, buy my labels and keep everything easy.  I am close to friends and family while also pushing forward for my own independence.  I want, more than anything, to be a success and to be happy.  Isn’t that what we all want?  So this is more than anything, a motivational post because I’m feeling good and want to share that energy with y’all – I can “run this town”, and so can you.  Never give up!!!