The sky is my office

Put yourself in this situation: you've just finished university, moved home and can't find work. You aren't 100% sure what you want to do (other than bagging the exec job at the beeb) and looking for jobs is getting tiresome. You've filled out more application forms than you can count, typed out your education history enough times to fill your computer memory and learnt more about google than you thought existed. 

What now?

This was me back in June, when I thought times were tough and I had had enough (little did I know it would go on another 5 months, but that's irrelevant for now). 

One late June evening my dad was flicking through the evening paper, my mum more than likely watching escape to the country or the like and I was, again, searching for jobs when my dad shouts through the house, 'how do you fancy being cabin crew?'

'Doing what, where?' I ask. Bemused, confused and interested I ran through to the living room to see a 4-line article advertising the emirates' airline open day. When I came to realise exactly what this entailed I was intrigued and eager for the challenge. Not being a fan of flying and not really understanding what it entailed I became adament I would go along anyway (thinking it was to be a busy careers event with stalls and the like). 

Beforehand, I spent a lot of time asking my parents why people put themselves through this as a career and spend each day putting their lives at risk...yes, funny. It was only after extensive research I realised how ludicrous I was being. 

To cut a long story short, I attended the open day and thank The Lord I went in a suit (all my googling had finally come in handy) ...because everybody turned up with new suits (you could see that by the way their stitches hadn't been removed from the backs of their skirts and jackets), perfect hair and newly manicured nails! When we arrived it took a lot of gut for someone going on a 'whim' to get out of the car! The main of the day was videos and a presentation but then we were asked to go up one by one with our CVs and have a mini one-to-one interview. Woah. Why the hell was I here I kept thinking. I was dreading the question asking why I wanted to do this...(deep down I didn't want to do it at all!).  

ABOVE: Lipstick ready for assesment day

We were told to leave when we had been spoken to and we would be called by 4pm should we have been successful through to the next stage. Obviously, with my little knowledge, interest or enthusiasm, I left thinking that was over. 

Half past 3...I get a phone call. Oh no. 

After all, I had to buy a new suit and I only made it through one stage of the assessment day. But rather then sighing with relief, as I expected, I felt disheartened and angry with myself. 

Two weeks later I found myself suited and booted at London's Heathrow, being assessed for Etihad airways. One of the toughest things I've ever done. And again, sent home. 

Now I find myself in a part time job, still living at home and itching to get my career over in Dubai. But will I make it?

Sometimes I wonder if my determination comes from the two knock backs, or if it comes from deep within my desperation to get the career. 

It's 6 months on... And I'm still asking myself who would turn down a career which takes you places. Not only that but a job that gives you the opportunity to see the world (whilst being paid), meet, work with and live with people from different cultures and places around the globe and be part of a career which is never the same two days in a row. Thousands of feet up.

World, I'm coming for you. 

What does plus size even mean?

Petite, tall, plus size.  What does plus size even mean?

Plus size ranges, supposedly for the curvier woman, are cropping up across more and more high street stores. Whilst the concept is fair and inclusive, the actual endorsement and enforcement is turning in to a farse. 

Clicking on my Facebook app today I was offered the chance to view the latest plus size model. As I clicked on the story, presented with what I would call a perfectly proportioned and averagely sized young woman, I scanned my screen for her plus sized friend. However, to my horror, the story below the images explained the hypocrisy of the 'plus size'. I was amazed to learn that this girl was in fact the plus size model (pictured below). Whilst I knew society had its issues, this demonstrated exactly where the issues lie. 

Wow.

The image above should make you feel angry, and if you're anything like me, desperate to go to the gym. 

As I calmed down from my anger at how society seems to favour the anorexia look, I switched my television on to see Nigella Lawson. She's average, curvaceous and by no means overweight but if were going on anything like the plus size model pictured above, then she's probably best going in to hiding for a while. 

I don't know about you but I don't even know what plus size means. 

And I sure don't understand who should be what size. 

Same stuff, different friends, different accent. Essex to Chelsea - reem daaaahling

Spending nights putting my parents through the likes of TOWIE and MIC (that's The Only Way Is Essex and Made in Chelsea if you were confused there!) has really got me thinking about reality shows. Not because their characters and storylines are a good conversation starter, nor because they're overly exciting. But because of my dad! 

"Why are we watching this? All we do is sit watching them live their lives."

"Nothing's happened in the past 2 episodes." (Yes dad you're right!)

These are just some of the complaints from my dad, who's obviously a keen fan of the likes of Antiques Roadshow and that gameshow Pointless - the name says it all on that one! 

So I started to wonder WHY? Why are we watching a group of friends argue, break up, cheat, get cheated on, bitch and drink endless litres of vodka cocktails (or the finest champagne for those on Kings Rd)? 

And I came to the conclusion that it gives us comfort. Comfort knowing that what happens in our own lives happens to celebrities. But all along it makes us realise that these people are actually normal people, like me and you. So surely it's just as effective as putting Jill and Roger, my neighbours from down the road, on tv?

No. 

Giving them as much coverage as a celebrity makes them 'famous'. And to get their fame all they've done is live...with as much drama and as many break ups as possible. I mean, Beyonce on the next page of Heat magazine to Spencer from MIC? 

Hardly on the same page are they?(No, not in any sense!)

We feel close to them, and can identify with them, whilst they show us where they party (like we do), how they celebrate and spend their days (as we do) and how they argue (like we all know too well).  Cleverly name dropping bars and, for the likes of the MIC lot, subtitling it makes their lives feel in reach to the average consumer like you and me. And we love that! More. Than. Anything. 

So that's why we all find comfort in our guilty pleasure - reality shows - but is it really still a guilt?

Hands up if you're addicted..

No wonder I'm so indecisive!

612. The number of decisions the average person makes each day. 

Waking up you have to decide which way to roll out of bed before deciding whether to put your dressing gown on. Right before you decide whether to brush your teeth now, or after breakfast. And then you must decide what to have for breakfast and which bowl or plate to use. 

Everything we do, even though it may seem un-thought-out, has derived from a subconscious decision that we, much of the time, have very cleverly made without realising. 

Pretty clever things, actually, humans..eh?

(Right there I just had to decide whether to use the ellipsis or whether to not use it. I'm still unsure.)

Out of the 4900 decisions we make each week, some are voluntary; we may discuss with a friend what we should do, make a pros and cons list or simply debate the possibilities in our mind. It's often the voluntary decisions which give us a good run for our money. 

They call me 'indecisive' and I still can't decide what it is that makes people think that. 

A lot of people, in fact a lot of my friends, make decisions, big and small, with only a blink of thought. As a paranoid, obsessed, cautious, safe and wild child (yes you really can be it all) I struggle to make a decision when it's one that can have effects. I like to figure out all of the possible consequences and figure out how to fix the consequences of my actions before the consequence has even happened. Wow. 

And then I realise that I live life like a tv drama, running risk assesments on my every storyline. 

Making a decision is my biggest downfall in life. I still don't understand how, often, you're expected to decide something or choose something which could end up, well, bad..wrong..a mistake.

[I sit writing this from a coffee shop, commando..with an overnight bag, trying to decide which colour knickers to put on..]

Appreciate now; stop wishing for tomorrow

If you won £10,000 on the lottery, you'd sit wishing it had been the jackpot. 

As humans, it's in our nature that we always want what we can't have. Or a simpler way of putting it would be that we're never happy with what we have and all we ever want is more. 

Is that greed? Aiming high? Looking forward?

I often find I'll fight with everything I physically have to get somewhere or get 'something' only to find that I didn't really need it or want it ...it was simply because I knew it was out of reach in the first place. What is it that makes us want to ache for the things we can't have, rather than appreciate the things we do have?

 

I've realised, whilst I constantly pray and wish I had different and better things, I'm missing precious time with the things that are here now. 

I don't know if life's teaching me a lesson, or what, but I find that if I'm not that bothered about something it's likely to come along for me. But the things I desperately need are a lot more difficult to achieve or find. 

And I came to the conclusion that I was trying too hard for the things I knew were out my reach. 

Appreciate now and here, not over there and 'next year'. You never know how long now and here will last, miss the 'now' and you'll probably find yourself wishing back to it. 

Nobody can control the time. 

It's ok to make mistakes; it's how we learn

An action or judgement that is misguided or wrong; a mistake. 

The word mistake has a plethora of negative connotations. It suggests something which won't be experienced twice, something which has drawn bad conclusions and possibly something which has affected the future. 

I believe there are several ways to look at 'making a mistake'. You can do one of the following:- sit, worry and panic yourself in to oblivion, plan to 'never do that again' or, as I try and protest, treat each mistake as lesson of learning. 

As Dale Carnegie said, 'The successful man will profit from his mistakes and

try again in a different way.'

I've made some mistakes in my life and I've chosen to spend time reflecting on these because I realised I wouldn't be who I am today without having made the mistakes and learnt from them. 

Everybody makes mistakes but not everybody understands how to turn them in to a positive. The man who lets go of his past, leaves nothing for him to learn from. If we have nothing to reflect on then what do we think about, and how do we asses, our future decisions?

From this point I'll make decisions based on what I've done, where I've been and how I've lived and I'll remember that whatever I decide to do now will create my futures' past. 

Even right now is tomorrow's past. 

Confusing, eh?

Lost in time and a lack of experience

I sit here writing this blog post with my motivation levels in rapid decline, my self esteem, well, long gone and my interest in day-to-day life hitting rock bottom. 

Ah, ok I exaggerated all that a little. But c'mon doesn't everybody feel a little 'down', disheartened and really bloody angry that it all went too quick...when Uni ends. You work really hard (spending three years earning free entry to the best clubs) studying and stuff, to the point where you often wake up feeling queezy (nothing to do with the hangover). And it's all a bit of an anti-climax really. Graduation day. You spend one half of the day wondering if you'll fall on stage, if you'll get to see everybody, if they'll pronounce your name right or if they'll even say your name at all! And the other half of the day, you're not likely to remember after your dads taken you for a few drinks (and let's be honest, when dad's paying, who has limits?). All in all though, seeing the proud glow on the faces of your family makes it all too worth it. All of it.  

I'd say I was still in the hangover stage, absolutely gutted that Uni has come to an end - mostly because I can't decide what my next step is (and believe me, I've tried to do it all since I left - move to London, move to Dubai, become the manager at my local Greggs). But I seem to be getting no further than my local Tesco for a loaf of bread and the evening gazette. 

It brings me to my quandary...how does somebody with no professional experience, or 2/3 years working background, get a job (get the experience) in a climate whereby thousands of people are applying for the same role and you're required to have experience. 

WHERE does the EXPERIENCE come from? 

I find it understandable why people come out of university, having had the best three years of their life, and end up progressing nowhere with their careers. Nobody tells us what to do, where to go or how to get where we want...but they were all quite happy to push us 150 miles away to university when we were 18 and unsure whether we wanted to go or not!

Experience comes from experience. If you can't get the experience, you won't have the experience. 

Of course, though, there's thousands of opportunities at big firms (and little firms) all over the country for people like me. They call them internships. They sound great. Who wouldn't want to interview celebs, make contacts, live in London for 3 months and get paid the lump sum of £5 expenses to cover their lunch? Oh...

Rant over. 

Au revoir, auf wiedersehen, ciao, GOODBYE. 

My best friend.

I've never been one to stress much...no, I'm kidding. I'm definitely one of the most stressful, worrying types of people you can imagine. I think I'm quite annoying at times really.

I usually start to stress and panic approximately Ten minutes before something's even happened...and that's on a good day. So you can only imagine what I've been like during the last two weeks running up to the dissertation hand-in deadline. A mess.

Some may say I need psychiatric help. Some may say I just need a slap. But what I really need, and it's quite simple, is reassurance and patience - not from me but from those that surround me. There's thankfully a lot of people around me that have these qualities. And there's those that just burden me with their own problems, on top of mine. But of course, aside from the bubble of stress I'm living in, I'm all ears to some.

I'm mostly sane down to my mum. She's strong-willed, tough, understanding, inspirational, all-knowing and can solve almost anything. If she can't solve something, I won't bother trying myself. If she can't find it-it's not there!

If I grew up to be half the person she is, I'd be over the moon. To be able to give my child what she gave me, not thousands of pounds, but time, love and answers - I'd call myself a good mother. And a best friend.

I'm growing (outwards)

It's been 9 days, 17 hours and 56 minutes since New Years Day ended. This usually means that we stop eating chocolate, sweets, pastries, chips, puddings and whatever else looks good enough to consent an expanding waistline.

My problem seems to be that I did 'think' about stepping back from the food and getting back on a diet, but the idea of it bored me. So, as a result of this, I haven't actually stopped eating yet - only for a few hours of sleep here and there.

My excuse is that there's still, what I like to call, 'christmas chocolate' left in the house and it would be ridiculous to go on a diet when there's non-diet food that needs to be eaten. Let's be honest, I'm finishing the goodies off purely for the fact that I don't like to waste food.

Hmm...

In fact, today's Daily Mail's cover story revealed that we throw away half of our food. Considering £10 billion worth of food is wasted, I'm glad I saved my 99p chocolate coins from the litter bin...

(My jeans are tighter than they were)

Being old and saying goodbye

Long gone are the days of squabbling over the last sweet, elastic ties and lining up for assembly.

We're grown ups now and we have to start dealing with grown up problems. Worrying about grown up things and facing what's thrown at us.

Thing's never remain the same; nothing lasts forever. Not dreams, not people. Nothing.

This brings me to loss. Something materialistic or somebody close to our hearts, whether that may be a family member, friend or even a neighbour.


Everyday, each one of us loses something; it might only be our door key, or a £5 note, and it's rare that it's ever gone forever.

But I don't know what forever means.

I don't understand death either. It's a type of loss but it can never be refound. It's unexplained. I've got so many questions that nobody can answer...not even my mum. And she always has the answer to everything. How can somebody be there one minute, and gone the next?

But not even gone just for a bit; for forever. Never will we see them again.

Sadness.