Monday, May 30, 2005

See this dress?

Well, the bag's horrid (and the bow on the bag and the ruched corners especially, to be precise), and I'm not sure I could carry off exactly that much of that pink without a fight with the fake tan, but the shape and the cut of the dress is roughly my style. Even if I don't quite fill it so fully in exactly the same places. But I am definitely going through a bit of a pink phase at the moment, so pink accessories are far from ruled out. You may consider yourself warned!

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

What Goes With The Blue Skirt?



Imperfect photos notwithstanding, this is the dilemma - what colour top goes with the skirt? The skirt has a split from the the top left of the diagonal hem of the brighter blue, so it flicks about nicely when I walk, and those are the shoes I would almost certainly wear with it. It occurred to me when I was taking pictures of the shoes that a top in those multiple blue stripes would not be horrific, but equally you can see that the black of the shoes works with the blue too. And I do already have a suitable black top I like. And that's before I realised I have a lovely dress I've never worn that would probably suit the occasion...

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Sunday, May 22, 2005

Late Night Special

Right now I am very sparkly and rather drunk. None of which is a problem, but I should take this opportunity to say that while being a drunk girl at home is lots of fun, being a drunk girl with my sparkly ladies is that much more fun. Having my sparkly ladies in my life means a lot to me, and I very much heart them all. That is all. *** POST-POSTING EDIT And I think the reason why it matters so much to me, even if it only makes a limited virtual difference, is that it means my sparkly side exists in a real inter-active world where other people know about it, and where it's a subject that's up for discussion. I mean, I still have a good look out my windows before I step out of my front door in a skirt since getting myself labelled as the neighbourhood pervert is something I'm very keen to avoid, and given that the social climate doesn't move all that rapidly, I suspect that will always be an important practical consideration. In which case, having an alternative environment where that doesn't apply and where I feel both comfortable and welcome expressing my sparkly side is something I'd happily trade my favourite handbag and shoes for, and that's not a claim I make lightly!

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

On Which Note...

Further to the entry below, it's been mentioned that I have a habit of half-saying things, or making leading statements and not following up on them. Almost all of my blog entries have titles which are either lyrics or musical allusions, and lots of what I write (here and elsewhere) is littered with references of different levels of obscureness. I guess it's an intellectual game I like to play, for my own amusement entirely, but which should work at face value (that's not a deliberate Phil bloody Collins reference) too. I consider that if people really want to know, well, they have tongues in their heads. But now it's come up, I also realise that it shouldn't surprise me if people that haven't met me or don't feel they know me are less inclined to speak up. As far as I'm concerned there is no mark to overstep, especially where I've started the conversational ball rolling. If there's something to say, in the words of VotB, you just say it! This is a rather curious situation for me, now I start to think about it. I'm naturally a very private person, and I'm very experienced in giving the response to a question that will close down a conversation rather than the one that's actually true. It's part force of habit, part instinctive self-defensive measure to keep folk at a certain distance. Which is why on that one particular issue, my increasing levels of self-disclosure are doubly remarkable. What it boils down to is that my sparkly ladies (and other readers) give me a platform where an important part of who I am is given a far looser rein than I feel comfortable allowing it anywhere else. The people who I feel should know, know. But for what it's worth, my colleagues, even the ones I get on with, rarely know that I'm taking the afternoon off to drive halfway up the country to go and see some band they've never heard of either. Nor do they know how many bikes I have, nor what I did on my holidays - I do stuff because I want to do it, not because I want to talk about it. But being able to talk about make up or skirts or shoes or handbags on a roughly level playing field with those people with whom I'm talking about it is worth more to me than I can probably expect you to appreciate. After longer than I care to say where I've made every effort not to betray myself - and I don't like the feeling that who I am is some guilty secret when that's definitely not how I see it - I can't just lay it all out for all to see. I don't work like that, even if I am getting better at it within certain limits. If you find my levels of openness fluctuating, all this ought to give you some clues why that may be. Thanks for reading!

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Best Of Both Worlds?

It's been pointed out in the last twenty four hours that I'm becoming observably more brazen about a certain issue, and also that I'm somewhat cagey and and don't give a lot away. Both are true. Elsewhere I was talking about how I got where I am today, so I'll stick that below, since I've already typed it up anyway. But if there's any questions that occur, I'm easy to email or you're welcome to leave anonymous comments here... * Starting point - crap grade degree in non-vocational subject, only remote hope at that point was teaching my degree subjects - complete non-starter * Three years of short-term and/or temporary unskilled agency jobs - washing up, gardening labour, emptying bins, that sort of stuff - interspersed with signing on * Eventually moved to another city, which was the crucial breakthrough, being in an area that was more used to training schemes, I got on a course. But they screwed up my claim along the way, so despite having been six months unemployed (and thereby qualifying for training course eligibility rules), I had to sign on for another six months before I could start the course. * Six months of course later, I had a freshly minted NVQ (level 2, Using IT) - that's the sum total of my job-related qualifications. A certificate for spending six months playing with DTP using Quark Express and and other things from the era of Mac OS 6 or 7. In real terms, the equivalent of having been in school nativity play if what follows without much further training is finding yourself on the stage in West End. * Went to ropey agency, said I'll take anything in an office - I'd had enough of emptying bins * One year of longterm temporary paper-pushing project for big insurance company, turned up, kept my nose clean * Real job vacancy in same company, applied and given it on the spot - first ever permanent job, aged nearly 29 * Nearly two years of that, learned lots by working on my own initiative, by which point I needed to leave before I killed someone * Vacancy for current job came up in the nick of time - I over-fitted the bill, and got given a job better than what I applied for, though I didn't know till I turned up on my first day (go figure!) * I'm still there, several years later, and credited with being far more knowledgeable than I truly am, mostly because I have the patience to do stuff that nobody else does, and the skill of asking the right questions in the right places, and a clear understanding of where I'm well off. That's right, I'm something of a got-lucky chancer, whose technical skills on paper don't amount to a lot. Fortunately, these days I have plenty of experience and the ability to sound like I know what I'm talking about, and to be fair I usually do. It could have turned out a hell of a lot worse.

Monday, May 16, 2005

In Praise of EFL-Rock

Two of the best gigs I've seen this year have been The Scorpions and Europe, which is how I'm moved to ponder the appeal of songs written by non-native English speakers. Abba were early masters of the art, of course, and there does seem to be a marked difference between the Scandinavian and Germanic nations compared with the Romance language ones. I'm guessing it's a matter of simplicity; for someone like me who always hears the words a long way in advance of the notes and chords, it seems strange to claim low expectations are a good thing. It's certainly true that mother tongue linguistic infelicities really grate, but for our fellow europeans I'm prepared to be a lot more tolerant. The Scorpions can make no great claims of erudition and philosophical sophistication, and even in what might be argued to be their most worldly song, Europe aren't that gifted either. What it comes down to is that I love bawling along with a straightforward melody, even though I couldn't carry a tune in big pink sparkly suitcase with my initials tastefully stencilled on the side. And maybe this is my musical equivalent of a feelgood film you can just switch off and be mildly diverted by without thinking too hard.

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Saturday, May 14, 2005

All Of The Above

* life laundry dept; my house contents is now reduced by one bike, and I managed to resist blowing the proceeds, beyond buying one book - I could have asked for more money for the bike and got it, but I'm happy that the guy got a decent deal on what is potentially a very good bike, but remains a thirty year old model that's going to need work in one or two areas - I've never sold a bike of mine before, and I feel better about it this way than if I were another x quid better off * and the remaining proceeds are already gone, financing the trip I would probably have made anyway, to see another great band yet again, and with a sparkly accomplice * I need my bed

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Call Alvin Lee!

This is the tenth anniversary of a friend of mine killing himself. Death unintended, but nevertheless nobody's fault but his own. Sure, I haven't been to his grave for a year or two, but that's not what's important. What's important is that one of the best friends I ever had is not forgotten. Cheers Mike, you stupid, stupid bastard.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

A Posse Of My Own

What a day! Started off with the culmination of the football season in a one-off death or glory, shit or bust winner takes all game, in which winning was the only result that mattered. In front for over half the game, we did have long enough to dwell on the vague hope that we might just pull it off. When we scored, the surge in the collective pulse of the entire crowd must have gone up by enough put a few megawatts into the National Grid. I've lived through a couple of very hairy moments and I've never quite felt like that. Naturally, it all went to shit, as pretty much everyone I spoke to predicted, even at half-time while we were still ahead and genuinely the only team in it. With such high stakes being played for, I'd got a step ahead of myself and arranged to go see some live music a hundred-odd miles away, partly because I know the best way of getting over disappointment, even when fully expected, is to distract myself with something else entirely rather than brood on it. Ok, odds on anyone reading this ever having heard of the genius of Ange Dolittle are minimal to say the least, never mind the chances anyone is actually familiar with him and his music. I first saw Ange on a stage a mere fifteen-odd years ago, and over the last few years we've been on very good speaking and occasional emailing terms. Being the top bloke he is, he wanted to say hello and thanks to the folk he knew had travelled to come to the gig, he said hello to the Manchester posse, the Leicester posse, and realising he'd either forgotten where I live or didn't know in the first place, I got thanked for coming under the guise of my own personal firstname lastname posse. And if there's a better place for such ego-polishing than the vanity-publishing world of the blog, I've yet to encounter it. The thought of being a posse of my own kept me chuckling through the last half-hour of sleep-deprived driving home. The music wakes me up and makes the tea and gets me out of bed. Always.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Vote For Love

And if I thought that I could stand for love Then I'd stand and I'd say Vote for me! I'll vote for love! And then we will love again When will we pick up the pieces and love again? Until we do, I'll vote for you And then I'll vote for love again I went and exercised my democratic responsibilities before I went to work this morning, and I don't do anything before work. I consider it important to do so - I've never knowingly missed a vote yet, and whatever may be less than perfect about this country, the fact we get any kind of comment on what's going on is one of the good things about it. There's still enough people on the planet who don't get any kind of comment on what goes on in their lives, and who have plenty more to complain about than I do. I'm under no illusions that voting makes me at one with the disenfranchised and desperately oppressed, but given how hard people have fought to ensure the widest possible entitlement to vote, actually going to the polling station and doing so is the least I can do.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Clearing Out The Debris - Sparkly Life Laundry part the third

Bit by bit, order starts to take over. The garden looks like a garden, more or less. My bedroom looks like a bedroom with a few clothes on the floor rather than a walk in floordrobe that happens to contain a bed. My living room has two bikes rather than two bikes buried under piles of stuff. My hall and cupboard under the stairs still contain three bikes, sundry diy and bike tool paraphernalia, but a lot of the stuff has been sorted out and it's mostly useful stuff that's left. My CDs are all shelved, if not fully ordered, but that can wait. I shredded a complete binbag full of bits of paper, some of which goes back a decade, and some of which was addressed to both me and A. N. Ex-other which kinda surprised me momentarily, but I'd say it speaks for itself that all this feels entirely natural. To be getting shot of junk of various kinds on what feels like a warehouse scale is all rather overdue. On this occasion, the house half-emptied is definitely a better thing to see than the house half full.
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