Tag Archives: work

So… where were we?

Ah, yes.

The fear of failure re: half marathon.

The looking forward to vegging out and feeling healthier (oxymoronic though that may seem).

The long distance that I hoped to close – and the potential for things to go spectacularly wrong.

I didn’t fail. I completed the half marathon in < 2 hours. 1:49:55, to be exact. Position #553, and 50th female across the line.

So that was one thing.

I have barely exercised since (unless ascending & descending 102+ stairs every day counts), but plan to change that (gradually) starting soon, as I still feel the same as before.

I closed the distance. I got a job in the city (bleh, the city), and moved in with Him. Unfortunately the job contract is temporary, ending Christmas. Fortunately I have interviews for more permanent ones coming up, and a decent chance of being kept where I am if those don’t go well.

‘Bleh, city’ has been basically the only downside in all of this so far. There have been no catastrophic fuck-ups yet. Ok so I don’t really feel like my work (Social Research) can ever contribute more than 0.00000000000001% to anything that really matters in this world, but hey; I’m not dead yet. I’m not even old, yet. I’m not even not-that-young, yet.

Here is a photo of myself and my brother in the garden back home, wearing our medals and t-shirts and pretending to be cool a couple of hours after the race;

us

Hope you guys are all good :)

~xx~

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Now I Can Go ZING When I Run

I have signed myself up to run a half marathon on June 30th this year, in aid of Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research.

I am going to run 13 miles without stopping. At 9am, on a Sunday. I also plan to do this within a highly respectable time limit.

I really needed something achievable to aim for in my life, and since it would seem I can’t rely on my mind alone for achievable goals, (damn thing keeps wanting what it can’t have, like ‘a graduate job’…) I’ve decided to rely on a combination of willpower and physical hard work instead. I am currently 10 days into my training programme, running distances of around 4 miles and keeping up an average pace of around 8 mins 50 secs per mile. So far, So good.

AND, I received this present from the charity today;

IMG_0192

which means I never have to worry about getting run over while I train (/trampled by sheep if I collapse halfway).

I am genuinely quite excited about this whole thing. If anyone happens to be feeling like a charitable and amazing individual, you can sponsor me here.

I would be massively grateful for any donation, no matter how small. :)

Much love

~xx~


Ooh, and…

Something that made me smile today.

A little girl and her dad ordered a create-your-own pizza. He let her stay behind and watch me make it while he went to grab a couple of things from the aisle nearby. She chatted to me about all sorts of little-girl things, then told me that she and her dad were going to have a nerf fight when they got home – at which point she ran off to get the nerf guns and darts to show me. Dad came back with her and said ‘Yeah but I’m totally gonna win…’ and they got into an adorable little ‘I’m-gonna-win! – No-you’re-not, I-am…’ squabble, ending in a dad-victory-by-tickling.

Enough cuteness to break the monotony of 9 hours spent putting food things on other food things, if only for a little while.

~xx~


Challenge Day 4

Bullet Your Whole Day. 

(^ That would be my version of bulleting my day. Y’know, if I were an anime character with a split personality, horns and a bunch of invisible arms. And boobies, and lush long hair…)

Sorry, but it was really not worth me doing that one properly; my day has been very dull and can be summed up in less than a sentence.

(Woke up had breakfast read a bit went to work – made pizzas, cleaned stuff, put stuff in and took stuff out of ovens, sliced some ham, cut some cheese, chatted to some customers – drove home from work had dinner chilled out had a shower chilled out some more).

Besides, this blog has been lacking pictures for a couple of days. That one is actually a little copycat sketch I did a few years ago, of the main character of an anime series I watched for some reason which totally escapes me now.

~xx~


(un)sexy saturday.

Bad things about today:

(yesterday, probably, by the time this is done and posted)

1) This burn,

and the hectic 8 hours at work in which it was sustained.

2) The fact that I have a cold.

~

Good things about today;

1) How awesome the people I work with happen to be – especially today’s ones. Lotta love for them right now, (but no, L; not lesbian love. Sorry…) for making what could have been the most awful 4 weeks of my life (so far – one week to go) nowhere near as terrible as anticipated.

2) I am becoming if not awesome then at least blissfully self-assured, at what I do. While this would ordinarily be no big deal – what I do isn’t exactly rocket science – to me, at this moment in time, this represents a massive step forward and a massive weight off my shoulders. (As does the making friends thing).

3) The cold is already better than it was. (If I haven’t just gone and jinxed myself) That’s pretty much a new record time for getting better, for me.

4) The aforementioned burn is pretty much the exact shape and size of a guitar pick. It also proves a point; That it is entirely pointless wearing kevlar sleeves above the elbow. Nobody has ever been at any risk of burning themselves above the elbow. Why does it always have to hurt before it becomes clear that I was right? Whatever happened to common sense?

Still. As burns go, I think I kinda like this one.

(‘Hey… wanna kiss my boo boo better?’)

~xx~

 


Sticks and Stones

hurt so much less than words. I almost enjoyed the burn across the back of my hand in comparison to the one across my self-confidence. Here’s something that happened to me today that most definitely did not make me feel good (but there is a sort-of smile at the end if you stay with me… oh, and LISTEN UP);

I’d just moved over from serving/doing various small tasks behind the hot food counter in order to help out D, who was serving on the deli counter at the time, because a bit of a queue had developed there.

As I arrived where I was needed, the guy who was apparently next in the queue – somewhere between middle-aged and old, I’d say mid sixties – was chatting to the woman in front of him, whom D was serving at the time.

Addressing both man and woman with a blanket hand gesture, sort of <——-> I said something like; ‘Hi, are you two together or…’

and then addressing just the man, ‘… or are you waiting?’

He said to me, ‘What is all this? (waved his arms a bit) Are you doing sign language at me or something? I don’t understand what you’re saying to me while you’re waving your hands all over the place.’

So I tried again; ‘Sorry, I was asking if you two (*hand gesture* – I can’t help myself, I talk with my hands more than my mouth, mainly because often the words have trouble finding their way out of my mouth in the right order, LOUD(ly) ENOUGH and C-L-E-A-R(ly)  E-N-O-U-G-H and things, when I talk) if you were together, or if you were waiting to be served. Clearly you are.  Sorry.’

At which he snapped, ‘Yes I am waiting to be served, actually. I’ll have two slices of the honey roast ham’.

Resisting the urge to put in the please he left out, I gritted my teeth and went and sliced the ham, put it on the scales and read out the price; ‘That’s one sixty-two there’.

He said nothing for a good ten seconds, so I assumed all was well with one pound sixty two and got on with wrapping the ham, maybe visibly disgruntled by this point. As I was putting the label on the bag, he piped up;

‘Sorry, did you say something to me just then?’

Confused, I looked at him for a second before looking down at the scales again and then saying, louder than before, ‘er… yeah, sorry, one pound sixty-two for the ham...?’

‘Oh well it’s just that I didn’t hear a word you said. You didn’t even look at me. Oh never mind, that’ll do’.

So I handed him the godforsaken ham, and enunciated ‘Oh, right… really sorry about that. Thanks, bye’  in a voice as raised as I could manage while fighting back tears, (it had been a really stressful day up to that point, and surprise surprise I was feeling tired and lifeless and hungry and anxious beyond all rhyme and reason) then spent the next hour or so fighting the same tears with around a 70% success rate.

~

Normally, after such an event I’d just quietly rant to a colleague about what an arsehole that guy was and how I hoped he’d choke on his stupid honey roast ham. But some days life apparently isn’t that straightforward. He had me worrying about whether I really do talk too quietly, mumble, avoid eye contact to the point of perceived rudeness, as a habit. If I do that means I’m barely further on now than I was at age 4; shy to the point of being physically unable to say hello to relatives when they came over (sometimes going so far as to hide my clammed-up shame behind furniture).

Does everyone struggle to hear a single word I say? Do I really speak all that quietly?

If my customer service technique was so far from up to scratch, my boss might have noticed too. My abject failure at fake smiles and pleasantries might outweigh my efficient working habits and my OCD supercleaning of everything and my always making sure everything looked pretty, and if so I might get sacked. Especially if the guy had decided to complain to someone in authority about me. From that point on I made sure I always raised my voice considerably to talk. I tried extra hard with the eye contact and the sickly smiles. I wondered if there existed a job that didn’t involve  interacting with other human beings and berated myself for being so antisocial. Most of all I wondered why, why why why was this bullshit bothering me so much? How far have I fallen if I can’t even stop myself from crying in front of people over silly little things?

I think I’d have dealt better with being physically kicked. Until my brain bled out through my ears.

 

But. While at least two colleagues (the male ones, of course) had a good giggle amongst themselves at my expense, there was one person who saw me cry and was kind about it. Which kinda made me feel like crying more at first, but then I realised I was right the whole time about who the nice ones were gonna be, there. (I placed bets to myself on day one, regarding each co-worker’s true colours – or at least which ones might give me the time of day; so far I think I’ve been pretty much on the money).

So I really hope a lot of good things happen to her.

I also hope this madness-sadness-stupid-shit ends soon. Like, before I’ve managed to lose everything I once held dear. Such as that little shred of dignity I think I might have had at some point.

Pygmy Shrew;

~xx~


Someone asked me today,

What I liked best about my job.

(He was being sarcastic).

I thought about it for a little while as I finished off the washing up, and then gave him an answer;

I like the half-hour drive to and from here, because that’s when I sing.’

(I wasn’t being sarcastic).

He said,

‘You sing when you wash up; I heard you singing earlier when I was putting the chickens in…’ 

I made generic mortified oh-noes-someone-heard-me-singing noises and mumbled something about singing way louder in my car, and he said

‘Nah it’s cool, you’re good.’ 

(This is the same guy who was the only person to make a proper effort to talk to me on my first day, and consequently helped to restore a little of my faith in humanity at the time. The kind of person I’d get God to bless, if I believed in God).

.

Then when I was leaving the place,

(singing at the top of my lungs…)

I passed a heartwarmingly large group of people doing what looked like a sponsored walk for charity.

There must have been a few hundred of them, and they were all wearing yellow t-shirts that said sunset something, (sunset stroll?) and carrying buckets. (God; bless all of them too, yeah?).

.

Then I filled my car up at another supermarket’s petrol station (because mine doesn’t have such a thing, and in the words of the best person I used to work with at my previous job I’m a ‘dirty little supermarket whore’ like that). There I had the best little bitching session with the woman who served me, about horrible rude customers and how irritating it is having to be nice to them all day. (God…? Yeah. Her too).

.

So those are my smiles for today.

Oh, I almost forgot the one directed at the adorable little kid with the impeccable manners who ordered a ‘pepper-pepperoni’ pizza.

(I put extra pepperoni on it because he said he loved pepperoni and he said please and thankyou, and… SO CUTE).

Yeah, I’ll shut up now.

Here is an Arctic Fox;

~xx~


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