WTF?!

1. It's Good Luck for the first person over your threshold (the first footer) after the bells (midnight) to be a tall dark stranger (male, of course).
2. It's BAD LUCK to leave the house before you have been first footed. (But SOMEONE'S got to be first, right?! Hence the tall dark stranger nonsense - clearly he is Not From Round Here, and it's all about our odd tribal hospitality thing, a bit like bedouins)
3. The person to answer the door to the first footer should be the Man Of The House. The Wimmen Of The House should stay in the main room together, to be protected in the event that the first footer is rascally Auld Nick (the devil) come to make trouble.
4. First footing presents which you should take with you to first foot someone (it's your duty to do at least one), should be some black bun and a piece of coal - symbolising food and warmth for the recipient family for all the year to come.
5. What you're doing at the bells is what you'll be doing for the rest of the year. Which, in Scotland, is typically DRINKING and perhaps kissing strangers. So... yeah. o_O

replyhazy

The really interesting thing watching these videos back again is that I REALLY didn't realise the crowd was this big. I'm somewhere up front stage right. I was front centre stage until the very first song opened (Lotus) and the crowd started jumping and surging and I, as a short person, was lifted clean off my feet and just moved around like a little piece of flotsam in a big scary sea. I was hauled out by my big plush Mr Bump backpack straps by security before the song was even halfway through.

Anyway, our moment of tarab just before this is so hard to explain. This whole tour was one of smaller "intimate" venues, as chosen by the band. This one sold out in a RIDICULOUS tiny increment of time, and they could have sold out a bigger venue easily (I'd been to the previous Monster tour at the fecking massive sports arena in Edinburgh, where I was up the back in the nosebleeds and the people on stage were tiny vaguely beige matchstick men. In this one, I was close enough to see recognisable people. I could see that stripe of orange eyeshadow/pigment across Michael Stipe's brow. I could tell Mike Mills' shirt was VELOUR, baby. Or crushed velvet, whichever, it suited him. I could see facial expressions, and see the smile he has with the audience interplay at 1:02 and 2:02. It was SPECTACULAR.  You can see the effect in this later one:

 

See how the crowd are just INSANE?! The energy is through the damn roof - and see how we're all mirroring his hand gestures as we sing back to him? And how much he's loving it? Awesome. I even feel it again right now watching it (maybe you're all just thinking: "yeah, a crowd waving it's arms around. UNHEARD OF.") Maybe you had to be there.

Some time later, I would meet people who'd been at that show, and you'd say to each other: "Shit, WERE you? I didn't see you!" As if there was only a handful of people there. AND LOOK AT IT. It's huge. No wonder you didn't see your random mate there! And yet - that was the feel of it - the intimate, powerful feel that it was just you in your bubble at that moment, watching something incredibly special that left a mark on you. I can't explain for the life of me why, other than to say the band are FANTASTIC live and composed of seriously EXCELLENT and engaging public performers.

I've thought of this show and in particular it's weird "Were you there?! I didn't see you!" vaccuum effect many times since in my dance career - particularly when you come across people who were in one of your audiences and seem offended when you don't remember. It's a sea of faces when you're out there performing, but if you're lucky it can be a unique and powerful and special moment for you all. Chasing that moment of tarab is what keeps pulling me back to our dance, even though it's absence is a bit of a hole in my heart at the moment.

I've been a bit maudlin and.. strange today after going through some other R.E.M. tracks - my time as an R.E.M. fan was closely tied to my relationship with The Asshat Ex. I even had a sudden burst of awful, gasping tears at one song (totally unrelated, no reason whatsoever other than lyrical content) which suddenly brought back the rush of desperate grief that I initially had during the break up and  particularly the horrible night I knew he was having his first liaison with his new GF (don't ask me how I knew it was happening THAT NIGHT. Email stalkage. I DID IT. I'm not proud of it).

It's funny how music takes you places - raw, emotional places. Maybe even places that, like me, you thought didn't exist any more. And can leave you feeling in a very different state than you were when you started listening. It's powerful fire that we dancers and performers play with - the music in it's own right, the emotions of the audience, the whole vibe of the performance space.

Uh.... no real point to this entry other than yet moar navel gazing. I have no concusion other than: Hm. Now I feel weird. Take that as you will!

 

Dear Flisties,

I love you all. You are awesome, fabulous, humorous, and really rather sexee individuals and I am so pleased to call you friends. Even in that weird, internet virtual life kind of way. Your well wishes have meant the world to me, and your effusive congratulations yesterday made my little soul sing even louder than the Crazy Birdie which wakes me up at 5am with his weird chattery sing-song right outside my bedroom window EVERY SINGLE MORNING.

*ahem*

I love reading about your lives on your journals, even when you're going through some poop and I find myself inarticulate and unable to do anything other than write "THAT IS POOP AND SUCKS BUT I LOVES YOU" and hope that you're not weirded out by that. (SRSLY, Flisties, I am sorry for my over-friendliness if it has spooged itself on you. I am like that IRL and if we meet one day I will probably squee and force myself on you in a total display of shameless socially awkward hugging).

In short, you've made my good news even better, and that's just unbelievably superb.

With lots of love and HUGS and fluffy bunnies,

Wiggle
XXX
 

 wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I haven't had a call from Company S.

I've spent a horrifyingly tense, lo-o-o-o-ong day waiting... just waiting, plowing my way through a family size bag of cookies (helpful) and trying not to lose my shit.

One of my references texted me in a tizz that she'd missed a call at 4:30pm. FUCK.

The other called me just after 5 to say that she'd had the call. And that she'd given me an excellent reference, so everything is sweet! Oh, apart from this one thing I just wanted to run by you - she asked me about any training and development you might need? And I couldn't think of anything. And then at the end I said I suppose you could do with some leadership training. I've no experience of you as a Team Leader, so I thought that might be something that would be good for your development. Is that OK? Did I say something wrong?

O_O

No. No, you just told a prospective employer that I need Leadership training and that you had no experience of me being a Team Leader.

AS A REFERENCE FOR A TEAM LEADER ROLE.

*sigh*

This referee left Company P before I acquired my two staff members (which... if I'm being totally honest didn't technically report into me. But since I was solely responsible for their training, delegating and monitoring their work, I decided it counted as leadership experience).

Now I'm thinking my referee - well intentioned, and a good friend - may have just made me look like a liar in my application.

And that a promising opportunity might just have turned into a puff of smoke.

Fuck.

• What brought you down South?
• Is your partner a Kiwi, or is he Scottish too?
• What does your partner do? Really? What does that entail?
• Where's the rest of your family?
• Hey, you were an Events Organiser! (uh... SIX YEARS AGO) What was that like?
• So you used to work for Company P, eh? They've really changed direction recently, haven't they? (uh.... yes? And?)

So!

I had... a very bad day yesterday. I discovered an hithertofore (woot! Random unwieldy lengthy obscure old term! Possibly used incorrectly! But I like it, so FNAR!) unbeknown (Score 2! BOOYAH!) to me hole in the finances. Like... a BIG hole. One which caused a SERIOUS problem. A serious, non-rent-paying, can't buy any food for the pantry again, DEAR GOD WHAT WILL WE DOOOOOOOOOO kind of problem.

There were tears. Oh, many, many tears. It was... horrible. Himself and I had to... Have A Serious Talk About Our Relationship.

There was an emergency phone call to Ma back home, who has bailed me out of a hole YET AGAIN. Again. I love my mum (much as I know we both have our issues and can set each other off), and I love the fact that she's always there for me. I HATE HATE HATE that I have to rely on that. I hate that I am THIRTY THREE fucking years old and my mother still bails me out. I hate that my mum is the only income earner (at the moment, as her partner is currently setting up his own business), and as such things are tight for her - and yet she still bails me out of my problems.

I hate that I owe her about a squillion pounds by now, and that's not including food I ate as a child or anything (as if she was Agnes Skinner, you know), and I don't currently have any way of being able to pay her back for the forseeable future.

More than anything, I hate the fact that the money she is now sending to me is money that she WOULD have been using to come over here to see me, and that therefore now she can't do that. And I miss her so much.

I also saw a job advert yesterday. A PAYROLL ONE. Well, a vaguely payroll related one. (See my previous entry on why Payroll jobs are THE FROO-ITS OF THE DEVEEL for a bit of background on my general feelings.) It's a consultancy/sales position for a technology group - doing design, sales and support for Payroll, Accountancy and HR software packages.

I DON'T LIKE SALES.

I am NOT a salesperson, and I don't like being given the hard sell myself. I certainly can't imagine having to do it to other people - and I think OTE is basically a massive fucking SCAM and lets employers get away with paying a shitty base salary. BUT! I'm thinking that this position isn't likely to include any of the more horrifying aspects of sales jobs - in as much as there'll be no cold calling or door-to-door bullshit. *shudders*

A previous manager I had at my last job (Company P? Did I mention their name before?! Who knows. You'll totally know if you find me on LinkedIn. ANYWAY!) had held this kind of role himself before, and kept recommending it to me because I would be "SO GOOD" at it. I have asked him if he'll give me a reference for it, because I reckon that's got to be a doozy of a reference if you can actually have someone saying: "Yeah, I've actually *done* that kind of work myself before and I think this candidate would be FANTASTIC".

Anyway, the job advert didn't include a closing date, so I decided  to be quick off the mark (probably gee'd along by the Tearful Conversation Of HOLY FUCK WHAT NOW earlier in the day) and apply for it yesterday. I wrote a reasonably good cover email (kind of bolshy, figured that would be good for a sales post), fired off my CV and the Covert Awesomeness Document that I'd come up with for my earlier ill-fated Company E interview. I sent the email off at.... half 6 or something.

Today, I checked my Sensible Email Address... and there was a response from some dude's Blackberry *eyeroll*. At HALF PAST SEVEN the previous night. Can I manage to come in for an interview on Monday?

O_O

I emailed back, saying I was happy to come in on Monday, would he like me to bring anything, yadda yadda yadda. He has a Blackberry, presumably he'll still get the email even today or at some point over the weekend. He replied within the hour: "Say 2pm at the office, I don't think you need to bring anything. I have ur cv."

So. That brings our new running totals to:

Job Applications: 13
Interviews:             6
Job Offers:             0

I know I should be thrilled. Himself is very pleased - they must be KEEN! Because they're so fast! YAY!

And I *AM* pleased that I'm getting somewhere. But I find myself thinking: "Fuck, typical pushy salesman. Using his Blackberry on the evenings and weekend to work. They better not expect that of me. And he used fucking TEXT SPEAK in a professional email, what an asshat".

I KNOW. I know, I am a total fucking jerk. But that's what I'm thinking. I feel a little... rushed and uncomfortable. I feel like this may be some kind of scam - seriously, you're interviewing people before the job has even closed? Are you taking on LOADS of EAGER BEAVER salespeople on a fucking commission only basis? Because FORGET IT. And does "presentable" in the job advert really mean skinny and attractive, i.e. NOT SO FAST, YOU FAT PERSON! I'm dreading seeing the interviewer's face when I waddle in.

Am I wrong, flisties? I absolutely *WILL* go to the interview anyway (I have no info yet on salary, or the dreaded OTE componentness or anything, none of that in the job advert, SURPRISE SURPRISE), and MY GOD right now if someone offers me ANY job I WILL TAKE IT. But it would be good to know my gut is just overreacting. A bit.

Right?!

I *think* - and I hope, oh dear god do I hope - that the works outside my house are coming to an end. The road seems to have been topped up to it's final level, a larger, heavy top coating of gravel is down, and has been compacted and rolled flat (which HOLY FUCK, is such a noisy process, and the vibrations through the house border on glass-breaking). The final step has GOT to be replacing the tar seal, and then I CAN HAVE MY LIFE BACK. Also my driveway and a place to park my car off the street. Yay!
 

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I've been chucking out our stale bread into the back garden for the birdies, because I decided those goddamned ducks in the park were getting WAY too much in the way of the stale bread reserves of this town. I shall break their monopoly, even at the risk of being visited by Duckbutt mafiosi threatening me with concrete boots.

My back garden seems to have been claimed by a young blackbird, and he's taken to hopping out of the bushes and STARING at me whenever I head into the garden. Like: "Hey monkey! Where's the bread? Whatcha doing in my garden with no bread?!" It's very entertaining.

However, in Extra Specialness last night, Himself was about to head out into the garden (to get to the garage, where our tumble dryer is to retreive his work shirts), when he started hissing at me to come out. There, mooching around in the grass hoovering up the bits of bread the birds hadn't got to, was "our" hedgehog. We saw him for the first time a few weeks ago, shuffling out of the mulching/composting spot at the back of the garage and into the courtyard. I've been PARANOID about checking under the car ever since, and hadn't seen him. So it was great to see him, alive and well and unsquashed, wandering around the garden in his little hodgepiggy way. Himself and I sat at the back door, lights off, whispering to each other as we watched him wander.

I've named him Hoggle. After the character in The Labyrinth, of course.
 

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After my kvetching about OMG SMALL TOWN NEPOTISM yesterday (was it yesterday? TIME HAZ NO MEANING), I just got a call from the recruitment advisor at Company S, inviting me to an interview next Thursday.

w00t!

She's sending me a map of the place (it's a Hospital, so... yeah, it's HOOGE), a confirmaton of date/time and the names of who will be on the interview panel. (Panel = BOO. I'll hope for a panel of two, because that's been my most recent experience and is manageable. More than two is a bit intimidating. :os )

So, that brings us to:

Job Applications: 12 (including two Recruitment Agency applications, which should probably be counted under some other category)
Interviews: 5
Job Offers: 0