You may be aware that I am a lady of many hats. Indeed of late, I have tried buckets of different hats on, just to see what it might be like. I have become fed quite fed up with the uni students hat, and have decided to cast it to the wayside for a time. Since then I have dabbled with the idea of a gardeners sun hat, but found it didn’t fit quite right. In sheer panic I reached out for any menial, wage-paying hat that would rescue me from destitution but to no avail; it was not the right hat for me.


Finally, this week, I have found my new hat. In the space of a week I have gone from a bundle of couch-bound tears to someone with a goal and a purpose; a busy-bee engaged in the business of becoming an English Teacher.

Here’s to unlocking the secrets of the English language and to finally having a hat that fits.

50c gem

In the early hours of a vaguely wintery Sunday morning whilst trawling the treasures of our local swap meet, I saw in the corner of my eye a book that called out to me. It sat atop a box of waterlogged, wearied and well-read looking books with the most wonderful cover I have ever seen. i.e. A sketch of a tree. Inside I soon discovered the pages spoke a language I knew not, were brown and felt like they had been left adrift at sea for decades. I had to have it, this 50 cent gem. At home I discovered tucked away within the dying damp-scented pages of this barely held together book, what looks to be a ration card of sorts, written out to the name of Kristine Jacobson. What is interesting is that it’s in English, for the month of May who-knows when. The book itself, Straumeni by Edvarts Virza, which google informs me is in Latvian, has another ladies name written in barely-legible cursive on the inside cover. Somewhere on the net I found an essay of sorts written about the text which says the book tells the story of an “Old Farm in Zemgale through the Changing Seasons". The author says Everything takes place as though seen by the eyes of the reader, who, like a traveller, is led through fields and over meandering streams in and around the Straumeni homestead and is invited to rest under the shade of the huge, leafy old trees and listen to the story of the old homestead, of the land and the country, and of the passing of generations now gone.

And, since I didn’t ask the two girls where they came upon the boxes of Latvian books, I’m left to wonder about the book and its reader. What did they see and where did they go before they washed up in fragments at my local swap meet?

Quote found here http://www.utexas.edu/cola/centers/lrc/eieol/litol-9-X.html

Welcome to the worlds stupidest argument, please, take a seat.


The culprit - a sock.

Well perhaps that is a little unfair on sock as it was the victim, after all, of an unprovoked attack by a certain canine. Which canine exactly is the crux of the matter. Or perhaps, stupidity is the real crux of the matter. After all, neither the canine nor the sock started the argument. In fact, it may have been a passing remark, a jest about the sock that set the wheels in motion or it was the fact that Protagonist A cannot bear the thought of hearing another opinion in Her house. Her house, you understand. Really, the nerve. But I’m getting ahead of myself here, lets recap.

The plot - Protagonist A’s conjecture is that Dog 1, belonging to Protagonist B is to blame for the destruction of one Sock, value $30 (why, I might ask, spend that much on socks?) Meanwhile, Protagonist B is of the opinion, based on actually being present, that it was Dog 1, owned by Protagonist A, that tore the garment to shreds. Much yelling ensues.

So! Where does the real blame lie? Who was the real destroyer of the Sock and how, it must be asked, does Sock feel about this dismal turn of events? Yes I am sure you are all dying to know. But let us pause a minute while the household erupts in a mudslinging fest and the non-combatants slip silently away – is this not the stupidest argument you ever did witness?

Certainly there are underlying issues, tensions, scandals and grievous wrongs just simmering between these four walls but who’d of thought, a mere sock? The proverbial fucking butterfly that sends the whole god-damned bus tumbling off the cliff side. All I could think as an innocent bystander in someone else’s moment of sheer stupidity was, my my, this is awkward, how to overcome the temptation to point out to all concerned that this argument was a new low for humankind? But that’s a bit like Switzerland waltzing up to Germany and England circa 1914 and going “Oi, you’re both numbskulls.” You know what Switzerland would have got? Socked. (Ha.Ha.)

People, it occurred to me as the bomb shells fell all around us, are remarkably circular in their arguing. Always certain that the other person just hasn’t quite understood and if they just say it again, a little louder, with a little more venom, they shall be prevailed upon to realise that they are incorrect.
Pity that this logic never has seemed to work.

Pity perhaps, that the Sock had not just got stuck in the washing machine or picked that day to up and disappear as all Socks must eventually do. Ah, the twists and turns of fate.

I love coming home to Post-it notes.

The Hunt

I am pretty sure over the past few weeks I have read every single job ad in every paper and website in Perth.

It has brought me up to speed with just how many odd jobs there are out there and how crazy the advertisements for jobs can be. Amongst the hairdresser, engineer, and checkout operator vacancies are the more dubious, eye-brow raising Beveller, Chicken Boner and Bread Merchandiser. My imagination runs wild at just what they might be..
and then there are the job descriptions themselves. One ad announces - Labratory Technican 'Kick start your career in soil testing...' I'm sorry what?!

There are the ads that call for

'Young ENERGETIC, sales LEGENDS needed for modern, up and coming, VIBRANT, business in HEART of CITY. No Exp. Nec. All trainging provided. Earn BIG bucks.'

Yeah OK, doing WHAT? capitalising EVERYTHING?

Remarkably simple sounding jobs also require truckloads more experience and training than ever before. For instance it apparently takes a minimum of 2 to 3 years experience to understand the mechanisms and demanding tasks of Grocery Store Fruit and Veg Assistant. Groundskeepers now require a certificate III in Turf Management. Turf Management.

Don't get me wrong, I understand all jobs require a degree of knowledge, skill and ability, but must they really require a Degree?

Local government job titles are probably the most pompous sounding. Property maintenance supervisor, strategic town planner. As opposed to the non-strategic town planners that is, don't want any of them thankyou.

So I remain the House Couch Maintenance Officer (aka. semi-unemployed) battling fiercely through the mountains of bizarre job descriptions... Over and Out.

Work

This week I had two tasks; research and write an essay and prepare some empty tomato/beans tins for my current herb-garden project. Two guesses which one I actually got done. The joys of getting dirty, dusty, torn jeans, splattering paint on my shirt and getting earth in the cracks of my fingers from hard work making something outside with the sun on my face far outweigh the joys of sitting at a desk all day scratching the grey matter. Of course there is also the fact one is something I have to do, and the other is something I want to do. But when one is accustomed to mental work that is mentally draining e.g. sitting at a computer, working in retail, doing something that is actually physically draining or results in the creation of something new, is in fact refreshing. It’s the kind of revelation that makes me want to become a gardener or builder, rather than my chosen career path of teaching. This is ironic since my parents, who have worked hard, physical, bone-grinding jobs all their lives, wish for their children a good white-collar job. And now here I am, wanting to dig holes and build boxes instead of stare at a screen all day.

So these are the things I have made this week – the first, my flower box, came about as a result of the packing our new oven arrived in. basically, I nailed four pieces of cardboard together and painted them, today I planted some pansy’s and wella!

Secondly, I’ve been collecting tins for the last few weeks to start growing some herbs in. Rip/soak the labels off, drill some holes in the bottom for drainage, paint them and name them.. all that remains to be done is to plant the seeds and with any luck, in a few weeks I’ll have my own chives sprouting on my patio.

 

And now, a new week, what to do with it?

Tonight.

Tonight I want to get dressed up and go out. I want to wear my good jacket, see something new, dine somewhere else, have a drink and listen to some music I’ve never heard before. Tonight I want a new experience, meet new people. Tonight I want to go out and be that person who is experiencing all that life has to offer before tomorrow when I turn 23. I want to be wined and dined and entertained and spend money I don’t really have. I want to flirt with the night, feel the cool air as I leave the hustle and bustle and fall into the night.


Tonight, I bought a new book and settled in to my slippers.