Okay. So yes. I might be over-extending myself. I have four jobs. But in all fairness, only one of them requires more than 10 hours of my time and the other three give me legitimate reasons to leave the house. Legitimate reasons that DON'T cost me any money. So here's a list of the jobs and what my responsibilities/hours are:
1.) Nannying. I think I can just leave it at that. If you don't know what that entails, go back and read this blog from the beginning.
2.) Tutoring. I have one family that I do about an hour's worth of tuition for on Saturdays. The girl is getting ready for her 11+ exams in January, so I'm helping her improve her grades across the board, though lately it seems like we've needed to focus quite a bit on English. The family is really nice and normal.
3.) The Clink Prison Museum. This is the first time I've worked for minimum wage since I was 17. I do two shifts a week, one eight-hour shift in the box office, one six-hour shift as a caretaker, which means I wander around and make sure everything is clean and in good working order. Apparently there will be other shifts with the caretaking job in conjunction with the events they host in the upstairs banquet hall. This may wind up giving me bartending experience which I can then put on my resume/CV. This place is a hoot...more on why in a moment.
4.) Peer mentor. I'm doing this through the Goldsmiths history department. I haven't officially started this one, but I'm meant to devote a few hours a month making myself available so that frightened freshman have a non-threatening fellow student to talk to about any questions, comments, concerns they might have. Lately I've been thinking I want to stay at Goldsmiths to pursue my Masters when I'm done with my BA, so this peer mentoring gig is meant to help me get into the history department's good graces.
Side note: I have a raging head cold right now. I am also at work. I got spicy beef ramen from Wagamama for dinner and it didn't clear out my sinuses like I was hoping. This is unfortunate as I have Bootsie's Pajama Birthday Party to go to after I get off work and I don't feel particularly festive at the moment. And Bootsie deserves nothing less than my a-game for her birthday party. I'm sure I'll figure something out.
Anyway. The Clink is a hoot and a half. The guy that owns the place reminds me of Brick Top from Snatch. Talks exactly like him and has similar teeth. Can't understand him half the time. The box office job is painfully boring at times, but I can read a book or go on the net and cruise around, just so long as I keep an eye out for folks that want to come in.
But I promise to keep from burning myself out. It is very nice though to have something else to go and do for a few hours rather than sit in the house or go out drinking or shopping or anything else that requires me to spend money. Plus I'll be making an extra few quid which'll help get things sorted so I don't have to stay in that house for my last year of school.
It's almost quitting time. I'm going to start counting out my drawer so I can lock up and go get my pajama party on....
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Character building
So today sucked. Big time. Brace yourself. This is gonna be a big whine-fest.
I wanted to slap Conrad (again), and I got yelled at by Sonja. I'm currently in a sort of self-imposed exile in my bedroom because I really don't feel like pretending just for the sake of the dinner guests (who just so happen to be the people I do tutoring for on the side. Nice mom, nice daughter...normal people). And I really don't feel like changing out of my soccer shorts/long-sleeve t-shirt. I say "sort of self-imposed" because while I wasn't sent to my room without dinner, they're definitely not inviting me down to eat. I've got my headphones on, so I admittedly can't tell if they've knocked or called my name, but I do know somebody just opened my door a tiny bit, very quietly, presumably to find out if I'm even in the house. And since I'm clacking away at the keyboard with my bedroom light on, I'm guessing they were able to tell that I'm here. They did not, however, open the door enough for me to see who it was, nor did they make any more effort than that. I suspect it was Conrad. And I really don't want to see him or have to speak to him for at least another couple of days. Here's why....
So I got up this morning at ten. Not sure what happened there. Both Conrad and Sonja are downstairs. I remark to Sonja that I thought she'd had a meeting at ten. I'm positive she said ten last night because I was going to go to the grocery store with her after her meeting got done. So after asking her what the deal was, she does her little fake pause, like I'm dragging her out of something that required intense focus, shakes her head, "What? Oh no. It's at twelve-thirty."
Liar. Sonja likes lying. She always does the little fake pause with a shake of her head before she's going to lie. And she only lies to people she thinks are dumb enough to fall for it. But as I've so effectively painted myself into a corner with both my hands and feet tied, I really don't think there's a way for me to call her on her bullshit without seriously jeopardizing everything.
Good start to the day. Then there's nothing for breakfast. So I have a blonde brownie and go back upstairs to sneak another chapter from my book. Meanwhile, Sonja repeatedly asks Conrad to go get dressed. He finally gets around to it, but does not want to put socks on (doesn't want to wear sneakers). Conrad has a huge nasty veruca (plantar wart) on his big toe that is currently being treated by the local chiropodist. Said chiropodist has told him at each appointment that he needs to keep it dry and clean and needs to wear proper shoes and socks outside of the house, and socks inside the house (though that's mainly to keep from giving the rest of us nasty warts on our feet).
Anyway. Conrad doesn't want to do it. I figure he must be going with Sonja and that's why he needs socks and shoes. So I go up to his room, get a pair of socks and bring them down to him while she's on the phone. He won't put them on. I ask him a few times, each time he says "no" (or some variation). Finally he wants to know why he has to put them on and I tell him that both his mother and I have asked him to put them on. He maintains he's not going to put them on.
Bear in mind, every word that comes out of his mouth is so heavily-laden with attitude I can't believe Sonja isn't stepping in. Oh no wait. She's on the phone. Why should she involve herself in the parenting of her child when there's somebody else to talk to?
So I give Conrad one last chance to comply, then tell him he's to go to his room. Yeah. Possibly an overreaction on my part. But it's the attitude that's pissed me off. How does a kid learn how to be that fucking insolent? I am STILL afraid to talk to my mother like that. It would've never even crossed my mind to speak like that to a grownup when I was his age....I knew what the repercussions would've been. And therein lies Conrad's problem...there are NO repercussions. Anyway. I tell him to go to his room and he stares at me. So I start to count to three (thanks Mom...I will use the "count to three" threat forever. It usually works like a charm). This morning it managed to get Conrad moving, but didn't stop him from sarcastically mimicking my counting as he walked off. So I walked to the foot of the stairs to make sure he went up there. He now starts making faces at me since he can't echo what I'm saying (not speaking at the moment, just glaring). I very calmly inform him that if that's how he's gonna act he can spend the day in his room. "Oh really? I'm gonna spend the day in my room?" he taunts before going to his room. I sit on the stairs, waiting for Sonja to get off the phone and the shit to hit the fan.
Sure enough.
Me: Sonja. He's been sent to his room for the day.
Sonja: Why?
Me: Refused to put on socks and being really rude and answering back something scandalous.
Sonja: (yelling up the stairs) CONRAD! PUT ON SOCKS!
...she then proceeds to belittle him and talk down to him. He cries (I suspect it's because he thinks he's not going to be able to play us off each other. He gets upset whenever a united front is presented). She yells at him for crying. She then goes upstairs and tells him to get ready. He does. I go into my room and wait for him to go downstairs. Once he's downstairs, I go up to Sonja in Conrad's room and quietly ask if Conrad really has to go with her because otherwise my authority takes another hit. I ask quietly so Conrad can't hear because that would also deliver a few knocks to my standing. Does Sonja respond at a similar volume. Of course not. She turns on me and starts yelling. "I do not want you disciplining my son anymore if I'm home. You're undermining my standing as a parent. You're taking over. No more."
Fair enough. No really. I quietly nodded my head, said okay, then went back into my room and sat on my bed.
She went on to shout down the stairs that sending him to his room as punishment would only be acceptible if "he stabbed you with a knife or something serious like that."
Hello rock bottom.
At least, I hope to hell this is the worst it can get because I'm just about at my limits.
I fully understand her being upset if she thought I was trying to take over. Fully understand. What is unacceptable is her shouting at me. Not only is that no way to reprimand an employee, it's also a manipulative and conniving way of making sure you further put me in my supposed place since your ill-mannered brat of a child can hear every word. And establishing stabbing as the only acceptable crime to be punished by being sent to his room was a nice extra touch.
Today I can say I actually hate them. Not dislike or detest or prefer to avoid, I actually hate this family. I'm not surprised they've gone through as many au pairs as they have. I'm surprised they can get anybody to stay for longer than two months.
And I don't think they're going to pay for school after all. She's gonna stonewall me until it's too late for me get the money together myself. She's THAT much of a manipulative bitch.
They're going to Greece for a week. She might've told me. I could've planned/saved to go home during that week. Now it's too late. Best part? She's heard me comment at least once a day how much I miss my family or how homesick I am.
My ears hurt from listening to headphones for so long. It's almost 9:45. I want to eat dinner. Guests are still here though.
Oh iPod. Thank you for that laugh. Forgot I had Fall Out Boy. Hooray for shuffle.
I've run out of steam. I feel so utterly dejected and so utterly furious at the same time I'm a little confused. I want a cigarette. And a really strong vodka tonic. Mostly just a cigarette though. I'll wait until after they all go to bed. Sucks.
I wanted to slap Conrad (again), and I got yelled at by Sonja. I'm currently in a sort of self-imposed exile in my bedroom because I really don't feel like pretending just for the sake of the dinner guests (who just so happen to be the people I do tutoring for on the side. Nice mom, nice daughter...normal people). And I really don't feel like changing out of my soccer shorts/long-sleeve t-shirt. I say "sort of self-imposed" because while I wasn't sent to my room without dinner, they're definitely not inviting me down to eat. I've got my headphones on, so I admittedly can't tell if they've knocked or called my name, but I do know somebody just opened my door a tiny bit, very quietly, presumably to find out if I'm even in the house. And since I'm clacking away at the keyboard with my bedroom light on, I'm guessing they were able to tell that I'm here. They did not, however, open the door enough for me to see who it was, nor did they make any more effort than that. I suspect it was Conrad. And I really don't want to see him or have to speak to him for at least another couple of days. Here's why....
So I got up this morning at ten. Not sure what happened there. Both Conrad and Sonja are downstairs. I remark to Sonja that I thought she'd had a meeting at ten. I'm positive she said ten last night because I was going to go to the grocery store with her after her meeting got done. So after asking her what the deal was, she does her little fake pause, like I'm dragging her out of something that required intense focus, shakes her head, "What? Oh no. It's at twelve-thirty."
Liar. Sonja likes lying. She always does the little fake pause with a shake of her head before she's going to lie. And she only lies to people she thinks are dumb enough to fall for it. But as I've so effectively painted myself into a corner with both my hands and feet tied, I really don't think there's a way for me to call her on her bullshit without seriously jeopardizing everything.
Good start to the day. Then there's nothing for breakfast. So I have a blonde brownie and go back upstairs to sneak another chapter from my book. Meanwhile, Sonja repeatedly asks Conrad to go get dressed. He finally gets around to it, but does not want to put socks on (doesn't want to wear sneakers). Conrad has a huge nasty veruca (plantar wart) on his big toe that is currently being treated by the local chiropodist. Said chiropodist has told him at each appointment that he needs to keep it dry and clean and needs to wear proper shoes and socks outside of the house, and socks inside the house (though that's mainly to keep from giving the rest of us nasty warts on our feet).
Anyway. Conrad doesn't want to do it. I figure he must be going with Sonja and that's why he needs socks and shoes. So I go up to his room, get a pair of socks and bring them down to him while she's on the phone. He won't put them on. I ask him a few times, each time he says "no" (or some variation). Finally he wants to know why he has to put them on and I tell him that both his mother and I have asked him to put them on. He maintains he's not going to put them on.
Bear in mind, every word that comes out of his mouth is so heavily-laden with attitude I can't believe Sonja isn't stepping in. Oh no wait. She's on the phone. Why should she involve herself in the parenting of her child when there's somebody else to talk to?
So I give Conrad one last chance to comply, then tell him he's to go to his room. Yeah. Possibly an overreaction on my part. But it's the attitude that's pissed me off. How does a kid learn how to be that fucking insolent? I am STILL afraid to talk to my mother like that. It would've never even crossed my mind to speak like that to a grownup when I was his age....I knew what the repercussions would've been. And therein lies Conrad's problem...there are NO repercussions. Anyway. I tell him to go to his room and he stares at me. So I start to count to three (thanks Mom...I will use the "count to three" threat forever. It usually works like a charm). This morning it managed to get Conrad moving, but didn't stop him from sarcastically mimicking my counting as he walked off. So I walked to the foot of the stairs to make sure he went up there. He now starts making faces at me since he can't echo what I'm saying (not speaking at the moment, just glaring). I very calmly inform him that if that's how he's gonna act he can spend the day in his room. "Oh really? I'm gonna spend the day in my room?" he taunts before going to his room. I sit on the stairs, waiting for Sonja to get off the phone and the shit to hit the fan.
Sure enough.
Me: Sonja. He's been sent to his room for the day.
Sonja: Why?
Me: Refused to put on socks and being really rude and answering back something scandalous.
Sonja: (yelling up the stairs) CONRAD! PUT ON SOCKS!
...she then proceeds to belittle him and talk down to him. He cries (I suspect it's because he thinks he's not going to be able to play us off each other. He gets upset whenever a united front is presented). She yells at him for crying. She then goes upstairs and tells him to get ready. He does. I go into my room and wait for him to go downstairs. Once he's downstairs, I go up to Sonja in Conrad's room and quietly ask if Conrad really has to go with her because otherwise my authority takes another hit. I ask quietly so Conrad can't hear because that would also deliver a few knocks to my standing. Does Sonja respond at a similar volume. Of course not. She turns on me and starts yelling. "I do not want you disciplining my son anymore if I'm home. You're undermining my standing as a parent. You're taking over. No more."
Fair enough. No really. I quietly nodded my head, said okay, then went back into my room and sat on my bed.
She went on to shout down the stairs that sending him to his room as punishment would only be acceptible if "he stabbed you with a knife or something serious like that."
Hello rock bottom.
At least, I hope to hell this is the worst it can get because I'm just about at my limits.
I fully understand her being upset if she thought I was trying to take over. Fully understand. What is unacceptable is her shouting at me. Not only is that no way to reprimand an employee, it's also a manipulative and conniving way of making sure you further put me in my supposed place since your ill-mannered brat of a child can hear every word. And establishing stabbing as the only acceptable crime to be punished by being sent to his room was a nice extra touch.
Today I can say I actually hate them. Not dislike or detest or prefer to avoid, I actually hate this family. I'm not surprised they've gone through as many au pairs as they have. I'm surprised they can get anybody to stay for longer than two months.
And I don't think they're going to pay for school after all. She's gonna stonewall me until it's too late for me get the money together myself. She's THAT much of a manipulative bitch.
They're going to Greece for a week. She might've told me. I could've planned/saved to go home during that week. Now it's too late. Best part? She's heard me comment at least once a day how much I miss my family or how homesick I am.
My ears hurt from listening to headphones for so long. It's almost 9:45. I want to eat dinner. Guests are still here though.
Oh iPod. Thank you for that laugh. Forgot I had Fall Out Boy. Hooray for shuffle.
I've run out of steam. I feel so utterly dejected and so utterly furious at the same time I'm a little confused. I want a cigarette. And a really strong vodka tonic. Mostly just a cigarette though. I'll wait until after they all go to bed. Sucks.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Even though I know better....
...I drank a RedBull this morning. What follows may or may not make sense. It may or may not be cohesive. It may or may not be unintelligible stream of consciousness. Right now it feels like every little synapse is on fire. I can't iron in this state (which is funny because the reasoning behind the RedBull consumption centered around having the energy to iron today), so I'm going to tell you about my day yesterday.
I am on the emailing list for the Royal Opera House's student standby tickets. It's awesome. Tickets for a tenner. Sometimes a fiver (like when I saw La boheme). I get an email on Monday letting me know I could get tickets for yesterday's matinee show of The National Ballet of China's production of Swan Lake. YES PLEASE! So I go online to see what sort of tickets I can get, and the "best available" option rewards me with two seats in the orchestra stalls, 13 rows back, right in the center. This is the view from our seats:
I mean wow. It gets better...
I have never seen such a crisp, tight, precise ballet performance before. It was perfect. Sure, the guys weren't as powerful as American dancers, but they were a hell of a lot more graceful AND light on their feet. I think I heard Prince Siegfried's landings maybe half a dozen times throughout the entire three-act ballet. And Odette/Odile....oh man. I could rave for AGES. She was flawless. As Odette her dancing was mournful and fragile and dreamlike and even a little bit hesitant/nervous. As Odile she was so full of charisma and pizazz and all her movements were strong and assertive. It was incredible. Her footwork was perfect. Her arms were beautiful. There are 32 fouettes in a row in the pas de deux in the second act. She made it look easy.
The whole thing was just plain incredible.
Major delays on the Northern Line coming home turned me into a sticky sweaty mess. Took me twice as long to get home, with a lot of that time was spent at a standstill, and there's no air circulation on the Northern Line if the train ain't moving. But I was still in such a good mood from ballet I didn't mind too much.
I get home and find out Sonja is going to get hamburger buns. Fabulous. This means I have to figure out how to make hamburgers from scratch. Of all the things I've ever made from scratch, hamburgers is not one of them. Sonja couldn't believe it. So I tried to explain to her about how awesome packages of frozen hamburger patties are for a busy family. Then I realized her argument would probably be something along the lines of "well we're a busy family and I'd NEVER buy those...", so I quickly threw in "yeah...a busy family that doesn't have a dedicated au pair to cook for them when they don't have the time or energy..." The rest of the conversation is as follows....sort of. I mean, it's pretty close but obviously I have to paraphrase some of it:
Sonja: Ohhhhh....you mean they don't have a bitch
Me: What?!
Sonja: You're my bitch
Me: Excuse me?! So is this a good time to bring up my fees for next year then?
Sonja: Like Luke [her assistant/lap dog]. He's my bitch.
Me: Yeah. He is. But he's sort of more of your bitch than I am. I mean, he follows you around and crap.
Sonja: Yeah. He idolizes me. But you're my bitch too.
Me: I don't have you on a pedestal though like he does. Sorry. You're too heavy.
Sonja: (looks shocked)
Me: (grinning while making lifting motions with my arms) You know. I'm not strong enough to lift you up and put you up there. On the pedestal. Sorry.
Sonja: (still looks shocked, exits the kitchen)
Me: No really though, we need to talk about my school fees for next year. Come back.
Sonja: (returns)
Me: Just because it's getting close to the cutoff date for getting a discount for paying early and I need to know if you guys are covering them again this year or if I have to.
Sonja: How much of a discount?
Me: It's 2.5% if you pay in full by the last Friday in August. I can't remember off the top of my head how much that works out to...
Sonja: 2.5%?! That's like, two quid!
Me: No....it works out to 250 or something like that. I'll pull up the webpage after dinner and show you the exact amount.
Sonja: I thought it was direct debit from my account.
Me: No, that was for last year. I mean, you could do it again this year if you want but then you don't get the discount.
Sonja: It's Julian's turn to pay fees this year.
So while I'm not sure if they're going to be paying for school again this year, at least I've planted the seed. I'll bring it up again in a couple of days.
Can't believe she said I'm her bitch though. It's even harder to believe I didn't lose my cool.
I am on the emailing list for the Royal Opera House's student standby tickets. It's awesome. Tickets for a tenner. Sometimes a fiver (like when I saw La boheme). I get an email on Monday letting me know I could get tickets for yesterday's matinee show of The National Ballet of China's production of Swan Lake. YES PLEASE! So I go online to see what sort of tickets I can get, and the "best available" option rewards me with two seats in the orchestra stalls, 13 rows back, right in the center. This is the view from our seats:
I mean wow. It gets better...I have never seen such a crisp, tight, precise ballet performance before. It was perfect. Sure, the guys weren't as powerful as American dancers, but they were a hell of a lot more graceful AND light on their feet. I think I heard Prince Siegfried's landings maybe half a dozen times throughout the entire three-act ballet. And Odette/Odile....oh man. I could rave for AGES. She was flawless. As Odette her dancing was mournful and fragile and dreamlike and even a little bit hesitant/nervous. As Odile she was so full of charisma and pizazz and all her movements were strong and assertive. It was incredible. Her footwork was perfect. Her arms were beautiful. There are 32 fouettes in a row in the pas de deux in the second act. She made it look easy.
The whole thing was just plain incredible.
Major delays on the Northern Line coming home turned me into a sticky sweaty mess. Took me twice as long to get home, with a lot of that time was spent at a standstill, and there's no air circulation on the Northern Line if the train ain't moving. But I was still in such a good mood from ballet I didn't mind too much.
I get home and find out Sonja is going to get hamburger buns. Fabulous. This means I have to figure out how to make hamburgers from scratch. Of all the things I've ever made from scratch, hamburgers is not one of them. Sonja couldn't believe it. So I tried to explain to her about how awesome packages of frozen hamburger patties are for a busy family. Then I realized her argument would probably be something along the lines of "well we're a busy family and I'd NEVER buy those...", so I quickly threw in "yeah...a busy family that doesn't have a dedicated au pair to cook for them when they don't have the time or energy..." The rest of the conversation is as follows....sort of. I mean, it's pretty close but obviously I have to paraphrase some of it:
Sonja: Ohhhhh....you mean they don't have a bitch
Me: What?!
Sonja: You're my bitch
Me: Excuse me?! So is this a good time to bring up my fees for next year then?
Sonja: Like Luke [her assistant/lap dog]. He's my bitch.
Me: Yeah. He is. But he's sort of more of your bitch than I am. I mean, he follows you around and crap.
Sonja: Yeah. He idolizes me. But you're my bitch too.
Me: I don't have you on a pedestal though like he does. Sorry. You're too heavy.
Sonja: (looks shocked)
Me: (grinning while making lifting motions with my arms) You know. I'm not strong enough to lift you up and put you up there. On the pedestal. Sorry.
Sonja: (still looks shocked, exits the kitchen)
Me: No really though, we need to talk about my school fees for next year. Come back.
Sonja: (returns)
Me: Just because it's getting close to the cutoff date for getting a discount for paying early and I need to know if you guys are covering them again this year or if I have to.
Sonja: How much of a discount?
Me: It's 2.5% if you pay in full by the last Friday in August. I can't remember off the top of my head how much that works out to...
Sonja: 2.5%?! That's like, two quid!
Me: No....it works out to 250 or something like that. I'll pull up the webpage after dinner and show you the exact amount.
Sonja: I thought it was direct debit from my account.
Me: No, that was for last year. I mean, you could do it again this year if you want but then you don't get the discount.
Sonja: It's Julian's turn to pay fees this year.
So while I'm not sure if they're going to be paying for school again this year, at least I've planted the seed. I'll bring it up again in a couple of days.
Can't believe she said I'm her bitch though. It's even harder to believe I didn't lose my cool.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I think this might be one of them downward spirals...
You know it's bad when I sit down to write a second blog entry for the day.
It's been another one of those days where I realize I seriously detest a ten-year-old. And then feel terrible about myself because I've allowed this job to turn me into somebody that has the capacity to almost hate a kid. Hating grownups doesn't bother me. For the most part grownups are aware of their actions and the repercussions those actions will have. If not, they should be. Kids don't have that clarity of vision. That's part of the fun of being a kid.
Conrad is different. He sounds so much like an adult sometimes I forget that he's not. He told me this afternoon, "You can't boss me around because this is like, my home, it's where I live. You can't tell me what to do." The implications of those two sentences are just simply awesome. And this was his response after I told him to go to his room after repeatedly asking him today to stop smacking/grabbing/pinching my ass. This has been going on for a few months now. He smacks my bum, I ask him to stop, he ignores. Today I added the negative reinforcement. Told him this morning that if he continued to do it he'd spend the rest of the day in his room. A couple of hours later he did it again. I asked him to stop and told him this was his last warning before having to be sent to his room. Did it a third time so I sent him off.
Was I out of line? I'm sure if I bring it up to either Sonja or Julian they'll laugh and tell me it was innocent, and whether it was or not that doesn't change the fact that I felt harassed. I somehow doubt sexual harassment is as hot a topic here as it is back home, and furthermore I think it would be hard to prove that a child is capable of it (and even if you did, what's the point? Being sent to juvie seems a little harsh, and everybody knows that juvenile records are sealed anyway).
This job and these people are fucked up. I'm sorry for the language but I don't know any other way to describe it. And they're starting to screw with my head too. Sexually harassed by a ten-year-old? Come on. That doesn't sound the least bit sane. But between the ass-grabbing (by both mother and son), the boob-groping (thankfully only done by the mother), the jokes made about my tongue ring, the jokes made about my sexual preference, the remarks about losing weight, the remarks made about me playing it fast and loose with boys, and all the other passive-aggressive snide comments that have been made, I'm surprised I've made it this far.
IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS.
Ah. Wonderful. Julian is back home so Conrad thinks he's allowed out of his room. D'you hear that scraping sound? That's me digging my fingernails in, trying desperately to keep from sliding back any further. Pity it's not going to happen.
But as much as I get upset with Conrad, it all winds up centering back on Sonja and Julian. Always the parents. Kids have to learn their behavior from somewhere. I'm guessing it's not his friends or teachers that provide the most Brittany Badmouthing. And I sure as heck don't get support from them these days either. Sonja thinks I'm mean and doesn't actually want to punish her child ever for fear he won't like her when he grows up (True Story. Heard her and Julian discussing it in the bathroom one night. I refuse to call it "eavesdropping" simply because they couldn't be bothered to spend a reasonable amount of money making sure the walls aren't paperthin.).
I suppose the thing that bums me out the most is that most everything else is going swimmingly (or at least without any major issues). It's just this stupid job.
Okay. Time for Brittany Nonsense.
I've decided I don't like Miley Cyrus because she's too wholesome. Even that Annie Liebowitz (or however you spell her silly name) photo shoot doesn't count as scandal. I WANT SCANDAL. Not because I want to gloat because I think I'm better morally/spiritually/emotionally/whatever ...I just want everyone else to be reminded that celebrities are regular people, most of which don't do anything that really warrants the stardom that they've got.
I also saw a picture of Zac Efron and Becks posing together. Man. Two guys I'm not supposed to admit being attracted to but can't really help the attraction. Efron is legal now, right? Otherwise I'm going to feel even more pervy for having a teensy little crush on a teen idol. And Beckham. I don't care how stupid and white trash Sonja and Jayne tell me his is, or how obviously faked that underwear ad was. He's still easy on the eyes and has a phenomenal free kick.
Mischa Barton is STILL UGLIER THAN SIN. Come on. Has she even done anything since leaving The OC? Let's check IMDB....Nope. Other than a bunch of links to news articles about her DUI, there ain't much on her page.
I mentioned before that Julian is working on a film adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray. I am BEYOND excited for this. I asked him if I could read the script but I don't think he'll let me. And to be honest, I don't want to read it anymore. I just want to be surprised. They've done a fantastic job casting (Colin Firth as the bored aristocrat fellow who totally corrupts Dorian.... YES PLEASE!).
I'm happy that everyone will be trickling back into town over the next few weeks. It'll be nice to have people to hang out with again, since it's obvious I've been going a bit mad being stuck with nothing to do during the week other than wander through my head. And me all stir-crazied out is NEVER a good thing.
Anyway. It's almost time to go get dinner going. I feel a bit better having vented again. And gossiped mindlessly about celebrities.
Word.
(PS: It's 6:25pm now. Just for those of you who want to know how long it takes me to write these.)
It's been another one of those days where I realize I seriously detest a ten-year-old. And then feel terrible about myself because I've allowed this job to turn me into somebody that has the capacity to almost hate a kid. Hating grownups doesn't bother me. For the most part grownups are aware of their actions and the repercussions those actions will have. If not, they should be. Kids don't have that clarity of vision. That's part of the fun of being a kid.
Conrad is different. He sounds so much like an adult sometimes I forget that he's not. He told me this afternoon, "You can't boss me around because this is like, my home, it's where I live. You can't tell me what to do." The implications of those two sentences are just simply awesome. And this was his response after I told him to go to his room after repeatedly asking him today to stop smacking/grabbing/pinching my ass. This has been going on for a few months now. He smacks my bum, I ask him to stop, he ignores. Today I added the negative reinforcement. Told him this morning that if he continued to do it he'd spend the rest of the day in his room. A couple of hours later he did it again. I asked him to stop and told him this was his last warning before having to be sent to his room. Did it a third time so I sent him off.
Was I out of line? I'm sure if I bring it up to either Sonja or Julian they'll laugh and tell me it was innocent, and whether it was or not that doesn't change the fact that I felt harassed. I somehow doubt sexual harassment is as hot a topic here as it is back home, and furthermore I think it would be hard to prove that a child is capable of it (and even if you did, what's the point? Being sent to juvie seems a little harsh, and everybody knows that juvenile records are sealed anyway).
This job and these people are fucked up. I'm sorry for the language but I don't know any other way to describe it. And they're starting to screw with my head too. Sexually harassed by a ten-year-old? Come on. That doesn't sound the least bit sane. But between the ass-grabbing (by both mother and son), the boob-groping (thankfully only done by the mother), the jokes made about my tongue ring, the jokes made about my sexual preference, the remarks about losing weight, the remarks made about me playing it fast and loose with boys, and all the other passive-aggressive snide comments that have been made, I'm surprised I've made it this far.
IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS.
Ah. Wonderful. Julian is back home so Conrad thinks he's allowed out of his room. D'you hear that scraping sound? That's me digging my fingernails in, trying desperately to keep from sliding back any further. Pity it's not going to happen.
But as much as I get upset with Conrad, it all winds up centering back on Sonja and Julian. Always the parents. Kids have to learn their behavior from somewhere. I'm guessing it's not his friends or teachers that provide the most Brittany Badmouthing. And I sure as heck don't get support from them these days either. Sonja thinks I'm mean and doesn't actually want to punish her child ever for fear he won't like her when he grows up (True Story. Heard her and Julian discussing it in the bathroom one night. I refuse to call it "eavesdropping" simply because they couldn't be bothered to spend a reasonable amount of money making sure the walls aren't paperthin.).
I suppose the thing that bums me out the most is that most everything else is going swimmingly (or at least without any major issues). It's just this stupid job.
Okay. Time for Brittany Nonsense.
I've decided I don't like Miley Cyrus because she's too wholesome. Even that Annie Liebowitz (or however you spell her silly name) photo shoot doesn't count as scandal. I WANT SCANDAL. Not because I want to gloat because I think I'm better morally/spiritually/emotionally/whatever ...I just want everyone else to be reminded that celebrities are regular people, most of which don't do anything that really warrants the stardom that they've got.
I also saw a picture of Zac Efron and Becks posing together. Man. Two guys I'm not supposed to admit being attracted to but can't really help the attraction. Efron is legal now, right? Otherwise I'm going to feel even more pervy for having a teensy little crush on a teen idol. And Beckham. I don't care how stupid and white trash Sonja and Jayne tell me his is, or how obviously faked that underwear ad was. He's still easy on the eyes and has a phenomenal free kick.
Mischa Barton is STILL UGLIER THAN SIN. Come on. Has she even done anything since leaving The OC? Let's check IMDB....Nope. Other than a bunch of links to news articles about her DUI, there ain't much on her page.
I mentioned before that Julian is working on a film adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray. I am BEYOND excited for this. I asked him if I could read the script but I don't think he'll let me. And to be honest, I don't want to read it anymore. I just want to be surprised. They've done a fantastic job casting (Colin Firth as the bored aristocrat fellow who totally corrupts Dorian.... YES PLEASE!).
I'm happy that everyone will be trickling back into town over the next few weeks. It'll be nice to have people to hang out with again, since it's obvious I've been going a bit mad being stuck with nothing to do during the week other than wander through my head. And me all stir-crazied out is NEVER a good thing.
Anyway. It's almost time to go get dinner going. I feel a bit better having vented again. And gossiped mindlessly about celebrities.
Word.
(PS: It's 6:25pm now. Just for those of you who want to know how long it takes me to write these.)
Ever wondered what your absolute breaking point is?
I haven't found mine yet but lately it seems like I might be closing in on it.
I am in a particularly foul mood this morning. Like spitting nails/seeing red foul.
I no longer feel guilty for starting my search for a new family (more on that in a sec).
Had a really great weekend bracketed by half-days on Friday and Monday (meaning I only had to work half the day). Did absolutely nothing on Friday night besides give myself a mani/pedi and watch Lolita. CREEPYTOWN. The Kubrick version, not the remake with Jeremy Irons and Melanie Griffith. Haven't seen the remake. I fell asleep around one and got a full eight hours of sleep. It was heavenly.
Woke up easily on Saturday morning since I wasn't up until sunrise the night before. Despite allowing for two hours to get ready, still managed to leave the house late for the matinee performance of La Boheme that I had scored incredibly cheap tickets for. There's a shocker. I'm running late for something. Meet up with Vicky at Leicester Square then haul ass to the Royal Opera House. Manage to get to our seats just before they dimmed the lights, then moved down a couple of rows to be closer.
WOW.
Somebody once told me you either love opera or you hate it. I think I may love it. It was incredible. AND I had my first ever meat pasty during the long interval. Awesome.
Spent the rest of the weekend at home relaxing. Made decent chicken enchiladas, watched movies, drank beer, made pancakes. Good times. Completely demolished the kitchen in the process. Even left dirty dishes in the sink overnight. I am SUCH a rebel. Har har.
In the process of having a webcam chat with family members on Sunday night I was reminded of the website I used last year when I first started my search for a family to au pair for. So I re-activated my profile, changed a few things, and started searching for possible new families that same night.
Julian and Conrad got back from Venice around 3:30 yesterday afternoon. Conrad jumped on me and gave me a big huge hug. My heart broke a little bit and I felt REALLY guilty for thinking about leaving. Really guilty. Started thinking maybe I could stick it out, for his sake.
But then of course he mouthed off shortly thereafter and really has not stopped. Just got done doing it again. Apparently I'm not "the king of [his] body" and he "does what [his] body
wants to do." Whatever that means. All I'd said was that it was a nice day out and we should go outside. Sorry. I can't actually type right now I'm so angry.
Couldn't sleep again last night. Finally managed to keep my eyes closed around 5:30 this morning. Set my alarm for 9 and managed to actually wake up at 9:30. Hooray. Four hours. I should be able to make it through the day on that. Except the sun is out and it's possible they're leaving the house so that means I'm going to want to catch some sun which also means I'm gonna pass out around noon if I get a chance to tan. Oh well.
But here's the rant. Here's the reason why I'm looking for a new family. If you don't want to read it, just stop now, I'm not gonna try to end this on a happy note (might happen anyway, but probably not).
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THE JOB YOU PAY ME FOR IF YOU DO IT FOR ME?
I get out of bed at 9:30 this morning. I suspect Julian has already been up for an hour. Conrad is still in his pajamas and has not eaten breakfast (although I didn't know that at first). Rather than let me take care of it as soon as I go to the bathroom and put on a bra, Julian has already started the laundry from their trip AND has emptied the dishwasher/done the dishes. Over the past few weeks I've made it a point to do chores FIRST THING after I come downstairs in the morning. Did the laundry really need to get started before ten? Was it really that big of a deal to leave the bowl from your breakfast and your tea mug in the sink until I could get down there to take care of it?
NO.
Oh no Julian. None of the housework you do is necessary...it's all just a power trip/control thing. I understand, I do. If I had a battle-axe shrew for a wife who constantly bad-mouthed me in front of EVERYONE and acts as though she's the be-all and end-all of everything and CAN NEVER do anything wrong and a son who takes all his cues from his mother and talked to me the way Conrad talks to you, I'd condescend the shit out of the nanny too.
WEIRD SIDE NOTE: There is a woman over right now who has apparently been hired to come over and look after the cats when we all leave for Christmas. WHAT THE HELL? I'm hiding in my room, furiously typing away, so I don't know what she looks like, but judging from her voice, the way she speaks, and her obvious love of cats, it's possible that finding out what she looks like may well be finding out what I'll look like in forty years after I successfully morph into THE CRAZY CAT LADY. I imagine she's wearing a British version of my bag lady sweater and a beret she crocheted herself that sort of looks like a sloppy tea cozy. She probably wears orthopedic shoes and carries a large dull brown leather purse. And wears pink lipstick. With sort of frizzy brown hair. Ha. I'm having so much fun imagining what she looks like I don't want to peek out of my room and ruin it.
Enough fancy, back to the rant....
Damn. I'm really working myself into a (seemingly) justified self-righteous fury. Awesome. Just remember that the way I deal with things is to get really angry about it, vent like it's gonna cure cancer, come up with a hare-brained scheme to fix everything, then completely run out of steam and just get on with it.
My main gripe is the utter lack of communication, and that it's forcing me to force the issue. Don't get me wrong, some days I'm just in the mood to pick fights, but NEVER where my job is concerned. And certainly NEVER with my bosses. I will go out of my way to avoid conflict with the person/people I report to. But thankfully I've always had extremely communicative bosses. Bosses that were good at not only telling me when I'd done a good job, but also giving good solid constructive criticism when I screwed up. Bosses that actually had conversations with me about my job where they didn't talk to me like a naughty child.
And then I moved here. If you've been following this blog you know I got really frustrated just before I went home for Easter and spent two weeks at Doheny drafting an email listing all my grievances and such. I'm angry and frustrated to the point where I don't care anymore if they find this blog, so I'm posting up the letter now too. Sorry for the length, but here it is:
Anyway. Other remarks about their response to that email. Julian didn't believe I'd written it. He thought I'd either had a "older family member help write it" or that I'd had them write it for me in its entirety. Or that I'd gone to a lawyer. I love it when people underestimate my abilities. No really. Because somehow I'd be able to manage being an English and History student WITHOUT being able to express myself well through written word. Oh no that's right. You both went to art college and therefore probably NEVER had to write a serious essay or a massive research paper. And you know what? I'm tired of hearing about the stuff you did for A Levels. I took AP classes in high school and from what I can tell they're on a comparable level. The papers I wrote for AP English are NOTHING compared to what I had to write this year. NOTHING. Julian's working on a film adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray (I'm excited for it...good casting job, good director, check it out on IMDB). He tells me the other day he started reading the book but only got about a third of the way into it before abandoning the book in favor of the script. Didn't want to get confused. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? And you think you're a decent judge of what people are capable of writing all by themselves without enlisting the help of somebody older/with law training? Give me a break.
See. Here's the problem. I have a tiny bit of respect for Sonja because she works hard. Tiny bit. I may even listen to her if she ever decides to stop being passive aggressive and ridiculously defensive and wants to talk about my job performance. However. I have close to zero respect for Julian for the sole reason that he ALLOWS Sonja and Conrad walk all over him and then tries to get into pissing competitions with me. And we all know I have SEVERE issues with authority when I don't have respect for the person with the authority. So I resent the fact that I have to obey and ass-kiss somebody who lets everyone else treat him like crap.
Sorry. I've gotten so caught up in stream-of-consciousness that I've veered off the original train of thought. I'll try and wrap things up.
My job sucks right now. I have to muster up the courage to sit down and talk to them about a bunch of things, even though I know they're going to get defensive and possibly nasty and might even just fire me outright. But I need to know whether or not they're paying for my school again. If they are, I'll go buy a MASSIVE tub of Vaseline and get ready for the brutalization that's bound to occur over the next year. If they aren't, I get to secretly line up a new family and start drafting my "Peace out. You guys are all NUTS. Here's why..." speech that I'll deliver with great gusto on my way out the door for good.
I really don't want to though. It would be different if I could get student loans or had some other way of paying for school. TIME FOR THE HARE-BRAINED SCHEME PART! This one's a doozy...
In the tradition of considering an arranged marriage for the purposes of gaining a visa that will allow me to work full-time in the UK comes this next great idea for quickly solving my problems: I can sell my eggs! Except no. Initial research uncovered this gem: in the UK you can only be reimbursed for costs associated with the egg donation process. No extra cash on the side for healthy viable ova. In the US however....
Maybe when I go home for Christmas.
And Julian's just left. Conrad is in the shower. Guess that means it's time for me to have a cigarette, lose all steam, and just get on with it.
Oh and by the way, the site is going to say this got posted around 10:05am. That's when I started writing. It's now 12:25.
I am in a particularly foul mood this morning. Like spitting nails/seeing red foul.
I no longer feel guilty for starting my search for a new family (more on that in a sec).
Had a really great weekend bracketed by half-days on Friday and Monday (meaning I only had to work half the day). Did absolutely nothing on Friday night besides give myself a mani/pedi and watch Lolita. CREEPYTOWN. The Kubrick version, not the remake with Jeremy Irons and Melanie Griffith. Haven't seen the remake. I fell asleep around one and got a full eight hours of sleep. It was heavenly.
Woke up easily on Saturday morning since I wasn't up until sunrise the night before. Despite allowing for two hours to get ready, still managed to leave the house late for the matinee performance of La Boheme that I had scored incredibly cheap tickets for. There's a shocker. I'm running late for something. Meet up with Vicky at Leicester Square then haul ass to the Royal Opera House. Manage to get to our seats just before they dimmed the lights, then moved down a couple of rows to be closer.
WOW.
Somebody once told me you either love opera or you hate it. I think I may love it. It was incredible. AND I had my first ever meat pasty during the long interval. Awesome.
Spent the rest of the weekend at home relaxing. Made decent chicken enchiladas, watched movies, drank beer, made pancakes. Good times. Completely demolished the kitchen in the process. Even left dirty dishes in the sink overnight. I am SUCH a rebel. Har har.
In the process of having a webcam chat with family members on Sunday night I was reminded of the website I used last year when I first started my search for a family to au pair for. So I re-activated my profile, changed a few things, and started searching for possible new families that same night.
Julian and Conrad got back from Venice around 3:30 yesterday afternoon. Conrad jumped on me and gave me a big huge hug. My heart broke a little bit and I felt REALLY guilty for thinking about leaving. Really guilty. Started thinking maybe I could stick it out, for his sake.
But then of course he mouthed off shortly thereafter and really has not stopped. Just got done doing it again. Apparently I'm not "the king of [his] body" and he "does what [his] body
wants to do." Whatever that means. All I'd said was that it was a nice day out and we should go outside. Sorry. I can't actually type right now I'm so angry.
Couldn't sleep again last night. Finally managed to keep my eyes closed around 5:30 this morning. Set my alarm for 9 and managed to actually wake up at 9:30. Hooray. Four hours. I should be able to make it through the day on that. Except the sun is out and it's possible they're leaving the house so that means I'm going to want to catch some sun which also means I'm gonna pass out around noon if I get a chance to tan. Oh well.
But here's the rant. Here's the reason why I'm looking for a new family. If you don't want to read it, just stop now, I'm not gonna try to end this on a happy note (might happen anyway, but probably not).
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THE JOB YOU PAY ME FOR IF YOU DO IT FOR ME?
I get out of bed at 9:30 this morning. I suspect Julian has already been up for an hour. Conrad is still in his pajamas and has not eaten breakfast (although I didn't know that at first). Rather than let me take care of it as soon as I go to the bathroom and put on a bra, Julian has already started the laundry from their trip AND has emptied the dishwasher/done the dishes. Over the past few weeks I've made it a point to do chores FIRST THING after I come downstairs in the morning. Did the laundry really need to get started before ten? Was it really that big of a deal to leave the bowl from your breakfast and your tea mug in the sink until I could get down there to take care of it?
NO.
Oh no Julian. None of the housework you do is necessary...it's all just a power trip/control thing. I understand, I do. If I had a battle-axe shrew for a wife who constantly bad-mouthed me in front of EVERYONE and acts as though she's the be-all and end-all of everything and CAN NEVER do anything wrong and a son who takes all his cues from his mother and talked to me the way Conrad talks to you, I'd condescend the shit out of the nanny too.
WEIRD SIDE NOTE: There is a woman over right now who has apparently been hired to come over and look after the cats when we all leave for Christmas. WHAT THE HELL? I'm hiding in my room, furiously typing away, so I don't know what she looks like, but judging from her voice, the way she speaks, and her obvious love of cats, it's possible that finding out what she looks like may well be finding out what I'll look like in forty years after I successfully morph into THE CRAZY CAT LADY. I imagine she's wearing a British version of my bag lady sweater and a beret she crocheted herself that sort of looks like a sloppy tea cozy. She probably wears orthopedic shoes and carries a large dull brown leather purse. And wears pink lipstick. With sort of frizzy brown hair. Ha. I'm having so much fun imagining what she looks like I don't want to peek out of my room and ruin it.
Enough fancy, back to the rant....
Damn. I'm really working myself into a (seemingly) justified self-righteous fury. Awesome. Just remember that the way I deal with things is to get really angry about it, vent like it's gonna cure cancer, come up with a hare-brained scheme to fix everything, then completely run out of steam and just get on with it.
My main gripe is the utter lack of communication, and that it's forcing me to force the issue. Don't get me wrong, some days I'm just in the mood to pick fights, but NEVER where my job is concerned. And certainly NEVER with my bosses. I will go out of my way to avoid conflict with the person/people I report to. But thankfully I've always had extremely communicative bosses. Bosses that were good at not only telling me when I'd done a good job, but also giving good solid constructive criticism when I screwed up. Bosses that actually had conversations with me about my job where they didn't talk to me like a naughty child.
And then I moved here. If you've been following this blog you know I got really frustrated just before I went home for Easter and spent two weeks at Doheny drafting an email listing all my grievances and such. I'm angry and frustrated to the point where I don't care anymore if they find this blog, so I'm posting up the letter now too. Sorry for the length, but here it is:
Dear Julian and Sonja
I am writing to let you know that I am flying back to London today and should arrive sometime Friday morning. I will arrange my own transportation from Gatwick Airport as I have in the past. I will let you know if I get stuck anywhere. I am sorry for the late email, but as I’m sure you’ve noticed, the ticket I fly requires me to be very flexible and ready to change plans at very short notice in order to avoid getting stranded at one of the three airports I have to catch a flight at.
I would also like to take this opportunity to further discuss the conversation Sonja and I had the Monday before I left London. Sonja stressed a desire for more professionalism on my part, but I feel that it has been lacking from all parties. In order to remedy this, I would like to make a few requests:
1. It would be extremely helpful if you could provide me with a detailed job description listing all of the duties and chores you expect me to perform. A breakdown according to daily/weekly tasks would also be appreciated.
2. I would like to know what my expected working/”on call” hours are, as well as which two days a week I am meant to have off. I would also like to know whether or not you expect me to be full-time or part-time.
a. Along these lines, I feel that we should agree upon a more formalized working week, which would then include a more formalized pay rate. For example, anything above and beyond the two nights a week babysitting would be paid at time and a half from 9pm until midnight, with any time after midnight being paid at double time. Any time worked during my days off would also be paid at double time.
b. I would also appreciate having more notice for babysitting evenings and weekend work. While I understand the non-standard hours both your jobs require, I feel as though my relaxed attitude towards extra working hours encourages you to take advantage. Also, sufficient prior notice helps me avoid accidentally making plans on a day you need me.
c. Factoring in my term time wage of 90 per week, my summer/term break wage of 180 per week, and the 9300 paid for my university fees, my annual wages are 14520. Once we decide what my weekly hours are, we can use this annual figure to determine what my hourly rate is. This will obviously change as my fees are projected to increase each year.
d. I think it would be easiest to use July 1st as the beginning of a new year for me as your employee, as I arrived very near that date last year (June 30th, to be precise).
3. I would also like to know whether my weekly wages are paid at the beginning or the end of the work week.
a. If they are intended to be paid at the beginning of the work week, you are two weeks behind in paying me (I was not paid for the week following my return from the US in January, nor was I paid for the week following our return from France). If they are intended to be paid at the end of the work week you are one week behind.
b. In order to avoid any mix-ups such as these in the future, I would greatly appreciate if you would set up a standing order to be paid into my account. I am flexible as far as the schedule goes, so we can discuss whether you’d like it to be monthly, bi-weekly, or weekly. Whichever is easiest for you is fine with me. Any wages earned for work above and beyond my normal work week can be paid in cash at the end of the week.
4. While I appreciate your need to be kept current on my activities should the Home Office ever decide to drop in, I feel that I must stress that there are parts of my life which I feel do not pertain to my job as Conrad’s nanny or my academic career, and thus I should not be required to disclose. I would appreciate more respect for my privacy in these matters. Rest assured that I am not doing anything that would interfere with either my job or my studies. I am more than happy to give you weekly updates on what I am doing at school, though I feel I should comment that previous attempts at doing just that have generally been met with blank stares or outright indifference.
5. Additionally, I would like to request that you would also respect my privacy in regards to the room that I sleep in. There have been several occasions where I’ve either noticed someone has been in there while I’m away or you do not knock before entering. I am partly to blame for encouraging this familiarity, however in order for me to function at my best I need to feel as though I have a space where I am not on duty. I truly appreciate the accommodation you’ve provided for me, and I respect the fact that I am staying in your home. As such, I will not do anything that would result in any damage to your property.
6. While I understand that keeping my room tidy sets a good example for Conrad, please also know that with the hectic schedule that I keep, doing my own laundry and keeping my room tidy will often fall second to doing the family’s laundry and keeping the rest of the house in order. I will do my best to keep my room as clean as possible, but I will admit there are going to be times where I just don’t have the time or energy to do so. Also bear in mind that I have to do my own tidying on my own time around your family’s schedule.
I hope I have expressed myself in a clear and concise manner. Should you have any questions, I think it would be in all our best interests to wait until my inevitable jetlag has cleared up a bit before discussing them further. Please do not interpret this email as an attack on you as employers as I am simply trying to communicate the expectations that I have concerning this position in response to Sonja detailing some of hers. Also please understand that I have written this in an attempt to inject more professionalism into my approach to the job. It is my sincere wish to solve these minor hiccups. I would also rather not regret choosing to avoid having a contract drawn up before entering employment in your household. I am confident that we will be able to arrive at a mutually advantageous arrangement with little hassle.
.....I've just realized I never posted a follow-up entry after the "chat" we had about that email. The chat basically boiled down to Sonja and Julian going through the email point by point and telling me "no". Except in a way that was rude and condescending and defensive and confrontational all at the same time. And I didn't fight back. Just sat there and nodded. Everything has sort of gone downhill after that. Well. Then again it seems like things have been going downhill since the novelty of me being here wore off about two months into my stay.Anyway. Other remarks about their response to that email. Julian didn't believe I'd written it. He thought I'd either had a "older family member help write it" or that I'd had them write it for me in its entirety. Or that I'd gone to a lawyer. I love it when people underestimate my abilities. No really. Because somehow I'd be able to manage being an English and History student WITHOUT being able to express myself well through written word. Oh no that's right. You both went to art college and therefore probably NEVER had to write a serious essay or a massive research paper. And you know what? I'm tired of hearing about the stuff you did for A Levels. I took AP classes in high school and from what I can tell they're on a comparable level. The papers I wrote for AP English are NOTHING compared to what I had to write this year. NOTHING. Julian's working on a film adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray (I'm excited for it...good casting job, good director, check it out on IMDB). He tells me the other day he started reading the book but only got about a third of the way into it before abandoning the book in favor of the script. Didn't want to get confused. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? And you think you're a decent judge of what people are capable of writing all by themselves without enlisting the help of somebody older/with law training? Give me a break.
See. Here's the problem. I have a tiny bit of respect for Sonja because she works hard. Tiny bit. I may even listen to her if she ever decides to stop being passive aggressive and ridiculously defensive and wants to talk about my job performance. However. I have close to zero respect for Julian for the sole reason that he ALLOWS Sonja and Conrad walk all over him and then tries to get into pissing competitions with me. And we all know I have SEVERE issues with authority when I don't have respect for the person with the authority. So I resent the fact that I have to obey and ass-kiss somebody who lets everyone else treat him like crap.
Sorry. I've gotten so caught up in stream-of-consciousness that I've veered off the original train of thought. I'll try and wrap things up.
My job sucks right now. I have to muster up the courage to sit down and talk to them about a bunch of things, even though I know they're going to get defensive and possibly nasty and might even just fire me outright. But I need to know whether or not they're paying for my school again. If they are, I'll go buy a MASSIVE tub of Vaseline and get ready for the brutalization that's bound to occur over the next year. If they aren't, I get to secretly line up a new family and start drafting my "Peace out. You guys are all NUTS. Here's why..." speech that I'll deliver with great gusto on my way out the door for good.
I really don't want to though. It would be different if I could get student loans or had some other way of paying for school. TIME FOR THE HARE-BRAINED SCHEME PART! This one's a doozy...
In the tradition of considering an arranged marriage for the purposes of gaining a visa that will allow me to work full-time in the UK comes this next great idea for quickly solving my problems: I can sell my eggs! Except no. Initial research uncovered this gem: in the UK you can only be reimbursed for costs associated with the egg donation process. No extra cash on the side for healthy viable ova. In the US however....
Maybe when I go home for Christmas.
And Julian's just left. Conrad is in the shower. Guess that means it's time for me to have a cigarette, lose all steam, and just get on with it.
Oh and by the way, the site is going to say this got posted around 10:05am. That's when I started writing. It's now 12:25.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Grrrrr...
Sleep by food coma is NOT going to work tonight.
Oh no.
Rather than curl up with a book after ingesting MASS amounts of indian takeaway tonight, I opted to quickly surf the net.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.
Now I want a cigarette and possibly tea. Neither of which is going to help me go to sleep.
All I'm gonna say is that people are screwed up and I'm resolved to stay within my current circle of friends because at least they make sense.
Grrrrrrrrr.
Oh great. Now because I'm all worked up over this my stomach has decided the indian takeaway is going to give me heartburn after all. Damn psychosomatic responses.
But. On a good note (because I always try to end on those), talked to lots of family members today. And while I could've done without all of them telling me how much they wished I could come home for a bit this summer, it was nice to talk to them again. Even if Auntie didn't chat for too long because she was worried about her cell phone minutes. Oh well.
And I did all my laundry today. Hooray.
There was something else I wanted to write about.
Oh yeah.
I've been reading voraciously again. Three books in as many days (though to be fair they were all pop fiction, not too difficult to cruise through in a few hours). I started another one today. John Irving. Should be fun. I'm hooked already, but that's not surprising since Irving has that effect on me. Usually. Owen Meaney took some working into. Nevertheless, that book remains the only one to ever succeed in making me cry. Good times. No really. Good times.
DAMN!
George R.R. Martin sucks. I hate waiting for authors to finish the next book in the series. I have been waiting THREE YEARS for the next book in his Ice and Fire series. THREE YEARS. I think I waited two years for the last one. According to Amazon, the next one isn't due out until SPRING OF NEXT YEAR. Man. Sucks. That book better knock my socks off otherwise I'm writing a very strongly-worded letter to Mr. R.R. Martin (what the heck are those initials about anyway? Not like anybody would confuse him with SIR George Martin of Beatles fame. He's a "sir". Come on...).
Oh great. Just checked out his wikipedia entry. Apparently after he FINALLY finishes this one there's still two more. At the rate he's going, I'll be 40 by the time he's done. Or he'll die first. CRAP.
I both love and loathe the endless number of things the internet provides. Grr.
I have to roast a chicken tomorrow. Not a tall order by any means, I just don't know what to make with it. And I really don't want to have to go to the store. Then again I'm going to the gym tomorrow (and I really mean it this time), so I could pop into Sainsbury's on my way back, I just don't know if I can be bothered. Hmmmm. Chicken noodle soup sounds miiiiiiighty tasty though. Especially if it goes back to raining tomorrow.
Speaking of the weather, I should've sat out today. The afternoon turned out to be real nice and sunny. Sadly, an OCD cleaning rampage brought on a serious bout of laziness after I'd whirled my way through hoovering, mopping, and scrubbing the bathrooms. And doing laundry. I did sit out for a bit in the evening, until the setting sun and rising wind forced me to abandon my sprawl at the patio table in favor of the cuddly warmth of my bed.
Might have to teach myself some basic HTML. Would be useful for formatting things. Or something. Basically, I feel like a goober/noob because I don't know any. Of course, I'm also supposed to be teaching myself Latin and getting a jump start on Old English this summer. And reading ahead for my English classes. And my history class too, should I ever get the summer reading list. Suppose I could just email my professor. I've also been toying with the idea of going back to those Greek lessons I've got now that my iPod has resurrected itself. Seems like all that might be overdoing it though. Then again, I've got a lot of time on my hands now. Funny. I thought I'd be going back to 12-hour days now that Conrad is on summer vacation.
I went wandering through youtube earlier. Remember Kids Incorporated? I sure do. Was shocked to find out Stacy from Kids Incorporated is now better known as Fergie from The Black Eyed Peas. I also laughed myself all the way to tears watching old performances from The New Mickey Mouse Club. Ryan Gosling can sing, apparently. At any rate, it was a good hour of re-living some of my early 90s childhood. Although the only time we ever got to watch Kids Incorporated or the MMC was during the annual/biannual/whenever free previews of the Disney Channel. Back in the day when it wasn't part of basic cable and didn't make its own movies from which tween merchandising empires could be built (High School Musical, I hate you. Even if I do have a pair of "I <3 Troy" socks. Oli made me buy them.).
Somebody famous has kids that go to school with Conrad. One of these children is going to Italy this weekend with Conrad, Sonja, and Julian (Hooray! I have the house to myself!). The famous parent is dropping off said child on Thursday afternoon. When Julian told me about this on Sunday (as I was grungy and in my pajamas fixing some tea), I think I was meant to be impressed or something. Or he thought he needed to warn me so I could remain composed and not get all star-struck and ask for an autograph and piss the famous parent off. After hearing the news, I laughed, rolled my eyes, and replied, "Thanks for letting me know. At least now I know to make sure I take a shower on Thursday morning." He looked a little confused. So I put on my cheesiest grin and continued, "Oh no wait. Should I ask for his autograph?" (grin went even bigger/cheesier at that point) He still looked confused. Guess he didn't expect me to not care and crack jokes about it.
Oh I don't know. It's midnight now. I'm finally calmed down but now I'm starting to hit my second wind. I think I'm going to have that ciggy/cup of tea after all. I hate this. My internal clock is so screwed up right now. I will probably have to resort to more drastic measures tomorrow night (Nyquil).
Grrrrrr.......
Oh no.
Rather than curl up with a book after ingesting MASS amounts of indian takeaway tonight, I opted to quickly surf the net.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.
Now I want a cigarette and possibly tea. Neither of which is going to help me go to sleep.
All I'm gonna say is that people are screwed up and I'm resolved to stay within my current circle of friends because at least they make sense.
Grrrrrrrrr.
Oh great. Now because I'm all worked up over this my stomach has decided the indian takeaway is going to give me heartburn after all. Damn psychosomatic responses.
But. On a good note (because I always try to end on those), talked to lots of family members today. And while I could've done without all of them telling me how much they wished I could come home for a bit this summer, it was nice to talk to them again. Even if Auntie didn't chat for too long because she was worried about her cell phone minutes. Oh well.
And I did all my laundry today. Hooray.
There was something else I wanted to write about.
Oh yeah.
I've been reading voraciously again. Three books in as many days (though to be fair they were all pop fiction, not too difficult to cruise through in a few hours). I started another one today. John Irving. Should be fun. I'm hooked already, but that's not surprising since Irving has that effect on me. Usually. Owen Meaney took some working into. Nevertheless, that book remains the only one to ever succeed in making me cry. Good times. No really. Good times.
DAMN!
George R.R. Martin sucks. I hate waiting for authors to finish the next book in the series. I have been waiting THREE YEARS for the next book in his Ice and Fire series. THREE YEARS. I think I waited two years for the last one. According to Amazon, the next one isn't due out until SPRING OF NEXT YEAR. Man. Sucks. That book better knock my socks off otherwise I'm writing a very strongly-worded letter to Mr. R.R. Martin (what the heck are those initials about anyway? Not like anybody would confuse him with SIR George Martin of Beatles fame. He's a "sir". Come on...).
Oh great. Just checked out his wikipedia entry. Apparently after he FINALLY finishes this one there's still two more. At the rate he's going, I'll be 40 by the time he's done. Or he'll die first. CRAP.
I both love and loathe the endless number of things the internet provides. Grr.
I have to roast a chicken tomorrow. Not a tall order by any means, I just don't know what to make with it. And I really don't want to have to go to the store. Then again I'm going to the gym tomorrow (and I really mean it this time), so I could pop into Sainsbury's on my way back, I just don't know if I can be bothered. Hmmmm. Chicken noodle soup sounds miiiiiiighty tasty though. Especially if it goes back to raining tomorrow.
Speaking of the weather, I should've sat out today. The afternoon turned out to be real nice and sunny. Sadly, an OCD cleaning rampage brought on a serious bout of laziness after I'd whirled my way through hoovering, mopping, and scrubbing the bathrooms. And doing laundry. I did sit out for a bit in the evening, until the setting sun and rising wind forced me to abandon my sprawl at the patio table in favor of the cuddly warmth of my bed.
Might have to teach myself some basic HTML. Would be useful for formatting things. Or something. Basically, I feel like a goober/noob because I don't know any. Of course, I'm also supposed to be teaching myself Latin and getting a jump start on Old English this summer. And reading ahead for my English classes. And my history class too, should I ever get the summer reading list. Suppose I could just email my professor. I've also been toying with the idea of going back to those Greek lessons I've got now that my iPod has resurrected itself. Seems like all that might be overdoing it though. Then again, I've got a lot of time on my hands now. Funny. I thought I'd be going back to 12-hour days now that Conrad is on summer vacation.
I went wandering through youtube earlier. Remember Kids Incorporated? I sure do. Was shocked to find out Stacy from Kids Incorporated is now better known as Fergie from The Black Eyed Peas. I also laughed myself all the way to tears watching old performances from The New Mickey Mouse Club. Ryan Gosling can sing, apparently. At any rate, it was a good hour of re-living some of my early 90s childhood. Although the only time we ever got to watch Kids Incorporated or the MMC was during the annual/biannual/whenever free previews of the Disney Channel. Back in the day when it wasn't part of basic cable and didn't make its own movies from which tween merchandising empires could be built (High School Musical, I hate you. Even if I do have a pair of "I <3 Troy" socks. Oli made me buy them.).
Somebody famous has kids that go to school with Conrad. One of these children is going to Italy this weekend with Conrad, Sonja, and Julian (Hooray! I have the house to myself!). The famous parent is dropping off said child on Thursday afternoon. When Julian told me about this on Sunday (as I was grungy and in my pajamas fixing some tea), I think I was meant to be impressed or something. Or he thought he needed to warn me so I could remain composed and not get all star-struck and ask for an autograph and piss the famous parent off. After hearing the news, I laughed, rolled my eyes, and replied, "Thanks for letting me know. At least now I know to make sure I take a shower on Thursday morning." He looked a little confused. So I put on my cheesiest grin and continued, "Oh no wait. Should I ask for his autograph?" (grin went even bigger/cheesier at that point) He still looked confused. Guess he didn't expect me to not care and crack jokes about it.
Oh I don't know. It's midnight now. I'm finally calmed down but now I'm starting to hit my second wind. I think I'm going to have that ciggy/cup of tea after all. I hate this. My internal clock is so screwed up right now. I will probably have to resort to more drastic measures tomorrow night (Nyquil).
Grrrrrr.......
Friday, June 20, 2008
Friday Night Lights
.....vodka and diet tonic water (get it...Friday Night "Lights"...DIET tonic water...). I'm finally down to the last serving. It's lasted a really long time though. Seems as though the habit is getting to be staying in on a Friday night with a vodka tonic and some ironing. Tonight's no different.
What do you guys think about me just marrying somebody in order to get UK residency? (and thus am able to work and possibly get student loans from UK banks [my credit isn't jacked up here like it is in the US])
...not really seriously considering it right now, but it is one of my backup plans. And green cards are a valuable commodity here for trading purposes. There are tons of businesspeople who'd love to be able to work in the US as well as already being able to work in the UK/EU.
It's been a rough evening.
I need to go home and recharge my batteries. I miss my family.
I was thinking earlier about how it seems like I can go about three months or so before I need to either go home or have somebody from home visit. Never used to need vacations before. Then I figured it out: this is the first time I've lived and worked in the same place. Every other job has been separate from home. That way, it's my decision whether or not I bring my work home with me. Here I have very little choice. Sucks.
Anyway. Not gonna end it on a bad note. Always end happy! So what am I happy about tonight?
FACESTAT.
Oh my goodness. You post pictures of yourself that are then entered into a judging pool. Other folks then rate/comment/judge your picture. They leave it in the pool for three hours to collect as many judgments, then email you about it. Here's a sample of one of mine: http://facestat.com/faces/105921/Brittany
Genius. It's fun enough waiting to hear what people have to say about you...but you can also comment on others. There are some utter gems out there. Gems, I tell you.
I'm also happy about the gym. Went for my first little personal trainer session thing last Tuesday, but between getting a new range and a new boiler, wasn't able to get back until yesterday morning, and I went again this morning. Hopefully I should be able to start going every morning next week. All the trainer guy has given me so far is a cardio workout, which is fine with me for now. I ride the bike, futz around on an elliptical machine, then go row my little heart out. Took a little bit of time to get used to that silly elliptical contraption, but now that I've found my rhythm I enjoy it. And I already knew I love to row. The lady I tutor for on Saturdays keeps pestering me to join her actually rowing on water, but I'm too afraid I'll biff it and wind up in the freezing cold Thames.
I overdid it rowing today. My neck/shoulders are a bit sore. I'm also already getting callouses on my hands from pulling the "oars". Oh well. I'm totally stoked that if I time it right (and basically go straight there after I drop Conrad off), I can watch an episode of Gilmore Girls while I bike/elliptical-ize. Watched the one today where Lorelai has to break up with Mr. Medina because he's Rory's teacher. And there was something about Paris being a right bitch about things, but that's pretty standard for that character. Oh, and Sukie asked Jackson out for dinner. They wind up getting married. I wanna say Lorelai and Mr. Medina almost got married but then didn't go through with it. Or something. It's been a while.
I tried to slice my thumb off again yesterday whilst chopping something. Wish it would just stay out of the way.
Oh. Yeah. Went on a semi-date Monday night. Weirdness. With an American who's here to work as the executive chef in some American restaurant in Chelsea. Also ten years older than me. Had fun, but in addition to being ten years older, he's also about an inch shorter. Oh well. It was nice to be taken out for once, even if all we did was have a few drinks in a couple different bars. And we climbed a lion in Trafalgar Square. It's getting to be a habit with me.
I dunno. Gotta get back to my ironing/packing Conrad for his school trip to Burgundy. I'm reading a slightly interesting historical fiction about Napoleon and Wellington. I've been on a historical fiction kick lately. Still reading Eco's Baudolino, read another one of Philippa Gregory's crappy novels (this one was about Katherine of Aragon), now this one about Napoleon and Wellington, plus Sonja's got another Eco novel I'll probably get going on once these other two are done. Bah. I read a lot.
I'm also listening to Jack FM. Thank heaven for internet radio. There aren't any classic rock or oldies radio stations here. Enter KRTH and Jack. Well. Jack isn't really classic rock, but it's better than nothing. The only downside is the time difference. It means that I have to switch to Jack in the early afternoon because otherwise I have to put up with KRTH's annoying morning show.
I'm just rambling now. Time to get back to it. Check you later....
What do you guys think about me just marrying somebody in order to get UK residency? (and thus am able to work and possibly get student loans from UK banks [my credit isn't jacked up here like it is in the US])
...not really seriously considering it right now, but it is one of my backup plans. And green cards are a valuable commodity here for trading purposes. There are tons of businesspeople who'd love to be able to work in the US as well as already being able to work in the UK/EU.
It's been a rough evening.
I need to go home and recharge my batteries. I miss my family.
I was thinking earlier about how it seems like I can go about three months or so before I need to either go home or have somebody from home visit. Never used to need vacations before. Then I figured it out: this is the first time I've lived and worked in the same place. Every other job has been separate from home. That way, it's my decision whether or not I bring my work home with me. Here I have very little choice. Sucks.
Anyway. Not gonna end it on a bad note. Always end happy! So what am I happy about tonight?
FACESTAT.
Oh my goodness. You post pictures of yourself that are then entered into a judging pool. Other folks then rate/comment/judge your picture. They leave it in the pool for three hours to collect as many judgments, then email you about it. Here's a sample of one of mine: http://facestat.com/faces/105921/Brittany
Genius. It's fun enough waiting to hear what people have to say about you...but you can also comment on others. There are some utter gems out there. Gems, I tell you.
I'm also happy about the gym. Went for my first little personal trainer session thing last Tuesday, but between getting a new range and a new boiler, wasn't able to get back until yesterday morning, and I went again this morning. Hopefully I should be able to start going every morning next week. All the trainer guy has given me so far is a cardio workout, which is fine with me for now. I ride the bike, futz around on an elliptical machine, then go row my little heart out. Took a little bit of time to get used to that silly elliptical contraption, but now that I've found my rhythm I enjoy it. And I already knew I love to row. The lady I tutor for on Saturdays keeps pestering me to join her actually rowing on water, but I'm too afraid I'll biff it and wind up in the freezing cold Thames.
I overdid it rowing today. My neck/shoulders are a bit sore. I'm also already getting callouses on my hands from pulling the "oars". Oh well. I'm totally stoked that if I time it right (and basically go straight there after I drop Conrad off), I can watch an episode of Gilmore Girls while I bike/elliptical-ize. Watched the one today where Lorelai has to break up with Mr. Medina because he's Rory's teacher. And there was something about Paris being a right bitch about things, but that's pretty standard for that character. Oh, and Sukie asked Jackson out for dinner. They wind up getting married. I wanna say Lorelai and Mr. Medina almost got married but then didn't go through with it. Or something. It's been a while.
I tried to slice my thumb off again yesterday whilst chopping something. Wish it would just stay out of the way.
Oh. Yeah. Went on a semi-date Monday night. Weirdness. With an American who's here to work as the executive chef in some American restaurant in Chelsea. Also ten years older than me. Had fun, but in addition to being ten years older, he's also about an inch shorter. Oh well. It was nice to be taken out for once, even if all we did was have a few drinks in a couple different bars. And we climbed a lion in Trafalgar Square. It's getting to be a habit with me.
I dunno. Gotta get back to my ironing/packing Conrad for his school trip to Burgundy. I'm reading a slightly interesting historical fiction about Napoleon and Wellington. I've been on a historical fiction kick lately. Still reading Eco's Baudolino, read another one of Philippa Gregory's crappy novels (this one was about Katherine of Aragon), now this one about Napoleon and Wellington, plus Sonja's got another Eco novel I'll probably get going on once these other two are done. Bah. I read a lot.
I'm also listening to Jack FM. Thank heaven for internet radio. There aren't any classic rock or oldies radio stations here. Enter KRTH and Jack. Well. Jack isn't really classic rock, but it's better than nothing. The only downside is the time difference. It means that I have to switch to Jack in the early afternoon because otherwise I have to put up with KRTH's annoying morning show.
I'm just rambling now. Time to get back to it. Check you later....
Friday, June 06, 2008
New lows, interesting highs
It's just about midnight on a Friday night and I feel well and truly crap. It's been an excessively rough week, and rather than having the weekend and two days off to look forward to, I have about three more hours of ironing and exam studying with Conrad for the next two days, plus, as usual, I'm on the hook for fixing dinner both nights. The cleaner didn't show up this week, so I spent a good four hours today cleaning the house. Best part? Conrad was out playing with the three neighbor kids while I was cleaning this evening, and when it started to rain all four of them quickly ran into my freshly-mopped kitchen. They'd been tromping around in mud. God I love life right now.
I'm really sorry. This is going to be a full-on pity party for a while.
After all the cleaning, made dinner for Conrad, Sonja, myself, and Jayne (who is without a place to live at the moment and has been staying with us...and eats dinner with us every night and is as finicky about food as Sonja is). Sonja didn't actually get home until half past eight, after I'd already put everything away. I had all the ironing laid out on the kitchen table. She walked up to it and made some smartass remark about there being so much, so I kind of snapped at her and commented on my lack of days off this weekend. She'd also told me last weekend that I'm not allowed to go out at all this weekend because I need to be "on top form" to help Conrad study for his exams next week. After I snapped at her she muttered something about "well at least I don't have to do it....better you than me," and walked out of the kitchen. Finally got Mom on the phone, and that helped a lot. Always does.
Side note: apparently working seven days straight is worth an extra twenty pounds. So that means I'm making forty bucks for working my sixth and seventh days. Some weeks my job situation is so incredibly illegal I can't stand it.
Sonja was apparently so stressed tonight she couldn't handle getting dinner out of the fridge and nuking it. She got Jayne and Conrad to do that. Nor could she manage getting herself a glass of wine. I was busy cleaning up the kitchen. At nine o'clock on a Friday night. Even if I'd had anything planned for the evening, I would've had to cancel. While I cleaned, they sat in the living room and watched TV.
After cleaning the kitchen I got started on ironing. Took me about twenty minutes to sort everything in piles according to who it belonged to. Decided to tackle Conrad's pile first because it was bigger. Fixed myself a pint glass of vodka tonic and started ironing. About an hour and fifteen minutes later, after three fills of the water reservoir, two burns on the actual iron and two burns from the steam, I finished Conrad's pile. 52 articles of clothing, not including the dozen or so pair of underpants I had to fold and all his pairs of socks. Now that I type it, it doesn't seem like as much as it actually was. I took pictures. They'll probably wind up on facebook.
I couldn't iron any more after that. I am exhausted.
I get the feeling Sonja is taking her work stress out on me. Sweet. I really hope her and Conrad go to Berlin next weekend so I can just chill out.
Now for the positive stuff...
Conrad is my new hero. After being thoroughly entertaining on Tuesday and Wednesday by giving me priceless dating advice and a marriage/babies timeframe/schedule, he stuck up for me in a big way on Thursday. So despite the fact that a lot of the time he drives me insane and doesn't treat me very well, I now know that deep down he really does appreciate all that I do for him. Word. He really came through on Thursday. I'm still amazed that a ten year old was more intuitive and caring than the person that bummed me out in the first place. Especially a ten year old who routinely goes out of his way to frustrate the hell out of me. I love that kid.
The weather was really nice on Wednesday and Thursday so I hung out in the backyard all day. Surprise surprise...I am once again a BRONZE GODDESS! Of course, the weather went crappy again today, so I'm not sure how long the title will last. It's overcast and muggy and gross.
I joined a gym? No really. I joined a gym. Weird. And I'm supposed to have the first of five free personal trainer sessions sometime soon. I was meant to go today, but I was still so worked over from yesterday's drama I decided a nice nap would be of greater assistance to my plan for rapid recovery. The nap really did help. I didn't want to get up and get moving (especially not to clean). I am resolved to go to the trainer session thingie on Monday. Except I think I need to request a male trainer. Not for any sort of base, tawdry reason...I just know that I won't listen to some tiny little skinny woman. And I won't believe she knows anything about getting back into shape to play on the school's soccer team in the fall. And I won't listen to somebody I think I could beat the crap out of in a fair fight. I know those are silly hangups to have, but I'd feel loads more comfortable (and motivated) with a dude.
Somebody's playing Pink Floyd really loud. "Comfortably Numb", to be exact. Fitting, almost. I'm not quite numb. I'm not quite comfortable. I'm definitely still all jumbled in my head. I could do without that.
Went out on Wednesday night with Bootsie. Went into central London, had a couple of pints at a pub before meeting up with Justine and her boyfriend Oscar. Good times. Bootsie and I climbed one of the lions in Trafalgar Square, then got kicked off because they were filming something. This is the first time in a very long time that I've had more girl friends than guy friends, and the really weird bit is that I don't miss having tons of guy friends. Odd.
Anyway, it's now quarter to one and as I mentioned earlier, I'm exhausted. Time to watch a little bit more of Gladiator and go to sleep. Tomorrow is all day tutoring, one hour of which I actually get paid reasonably for. I need to look into getting a job at a tutoring company here.
Lordy. Apparently they're listening to the entire Pink Floyd Greatest Hits album. AT least it's mellow...
I'm really sorry. This is going to be a full-on pity party for a while.
After all the cleaning, made dinner for Conrad, Sonja, myself, and Jayne (who is without a place to live at the moment and has been staying with us...and eats dinner with us every night and is as finicky about food as Sonja is). Sonja didn't actually get home until half past eight, after I'd already put everything away. I had all the ironing laid out on the kitchen table. She walked up to it and made some smartass remark about there being so much, so I kind of snapped at her and commented on my lack of days off this weekend. She'd also told me last weekend that I'm not allowed to go out at all this weekend because I need to be "on top form" to help Conrad study for his exams next week. After I snapped at her she muttered something about "well at least I don't have to do it....better you than me," and walked out of the kitchen. Finally got Mom on the phone, and that helped a lot. Always does.
Side note: apparently working seven days straight is worth an extra twenty pounds. So that means I'm making forty bucks for working my sixth and seventh days. Some weeks my job situation is so incredibly illegal I can't stand it.
Sonja was apparently so stressed tonight she couldn't handle getting dinner out of the fridge and nuking it. She got Jayne and Conrad to do that. Nor could she manage getting herself a glass of wine. I was busy cleaning up the kitchen. At nine o'clock on a Friday night. Even if I'd had anything planned for the evening, I would've had to cancel. While I cleaned, they sat in the living room and watched TV.
After cleaning the kitchen I got started on ironing. Took me about twenty minutes to sort everything in piles according to who it belonged to. Decided to tackle Conrad's pile first because it was bigger. Fixed myself a pint glass of vodka tonic and started ironing. About an hour and fifteen minutes later, after three fills of the water reservoir, two burns on the actual iron and two burns from the steam, I finished Conrad's pile. 52 articles of clothing, not including the dozen or so pair of underpants I had to fold and all his pairs of socks. Now that I type it, it doesn't seem like as much as it actually was. I took pictures. They'll probably wind up on facebook.
I couldn't iron any more after that. I am exhausted.
I get the feeling Sonja is taking her work stress out on me. Sweet. I really hope her and Conrad go to Berlin next weekend so I can just chill out.
Now for the positive stuff...
Conrad is my new hero. After being thoroughly entertaining on Tuesday and Wednesday by giving me priceless dating advice and a marriage/babies timeframe/schedule, he stuck up for me in a big way on Thursday. So despite the fact that a lot of the time he drives me insane and doesn't treat me very well, I now know that deep down he really does appreciate all that I do for him. Word. He really came through on Thursday. I'm still amazed that a ten year old was more intuitive and caring than the person that bummed me out in the first place. Especially a ten year old who routinely goes out of his way to frustrate the hell out of me. I love that kid.
The weather was really nice on Wednesday and Thursday so I hung out in the backyard all day. Surprise surprise...I am once again a BRONZE GODDESS! Of course, the weather went crappy again today, so I'm not sure how long the title will last. It's overcast and muggy and gross.
I joined a gym? No really. I joined a gym. Weird. And I'm supposed to have the first of five free personal trainer sessions sometime soon. I was meant to go today, but I was still so worked over from yesterday's drama I decided a nice nap would be of greater assistance to my plan for rapid recovery. The nap really did help. I didn't want to get up and get moving (especially not to clean). I am resolved to go to the trainer session thingie on Monday. Except I think I need to request a male trainer. Not for any sort of base, tawdry reason...I just know that I won't listen to some tiny little skinny woman. And I won't believe she knows anything about getting back into shape to play on the school's soccer team in the fall. And I won't listen to somebody I think I could beat the crap out of in a fair fight. I know those are silly hangups to have, but I'd feel loads more comfortable (and motivated) with a dude.
Somebody's playing Pink Floyd really loud. "Comfortably Numb", to be exact. Fitting, almost. I'm not quite numb. I'm not quite comfortable. I'm definitely still all jumbled in my head. I could do without that.
Went out on Wednesday night with Bootsie. Went into central London, had a couple of pints at a pub before meeting up with Justine and her boyfriend Oscar. Good times. Bootsie and I climbed one of the lions in Trafalgar Square, then got kicked off because they were filming something. This is the first time in a very long time that I've had more girl friends than guy friends, and the really weird bit is that I don't miss having tons of guy friends. Odd.
Anyway, it's now quarter to one and as I mentioned earlier, I'm exhausted. Time to watch a little bit more of Gladiator and go to sleep. Tomorrow is all day tutoring, one hour of which I actually get paid reasonably for. I need to look into getting a job at a tutoring company here.
Lordy. Apparently they're listening to the entire Pink Floyd Greatest Hits album. AT least it's mellow...
Friday, May 23, 2008
Various and sundry
So I finally got around to my non-alcoholic post-exams treat this week. Helen and I went to Westminster Abbey on Tuesday.
Wow.
Granted, I was a bit hopped up on coffee after only getting a couple of hours' sleep the night before, but walking up to the entrance I felt like we'd been driving all morning to get to Magic Mountain ("I wanna go on Goliath first. No, Superman. No, X. No, Colossus...etc. etc.). I was so excited to get inside and see everything I kept hopping around and giggling and generally behaving like a complete goober.
Doesn't help that gorgeous huge old churches usually do a number on me anyway.
The Brittany Grin inadvertently won over one of the vergers (one of the sort of wandering helper people/tour guides). He was a nice older English chap who found out for us that the day's communion service was going to be held in the adjoining chapel because there was a rehearsal that afternoon for an upcoming concert. He also clued us in to a good pub nearby that we could grab a decent lunch at, though he mentioned he was sad he couldn't join us because he didn't have time (he was over 35, thus the Brittany Grin worked its full charming magic. And I was also so bubbly and happy to just be inside the church that I'm sure the Grin was even more potent than usual). As it turns out, the rehearsal was for an upcoming baroque music festival. Helen and I decided to forego taking communion in favor of sticking around for the rehearsal (had to pick up Conrad later that evening and wanted to maximize the time we spent inside the abbey).
I won't get into all the different historical figures whose graves we saw, or how amazing the stained glass windows were, or how completely awestruck we were by the vaulted ceilings. You just have to go and see for yourself.
The rehearsal was amazing. Chamber orchestra covering some Handel pieces. I almost cried. Again. And full goosebumps.
Went window shopping afterwards and found a good place to buy my underthings (hooray for cute bras for big boobs at reasonable prices!).
The evening with Conrad and his friend Jack didn't go so well, but I don't entirely feel like getting into that right now. It wasn't a total loss as I got to meet Jack's babysitter/swim instructor. I mean wow. I was actually speechless when I opened the door. I stammered. It was hysterically funny. Then he started asking questions about me. Lordy. A Polish Adonis. Made all the hell of dealing with Jack worth it.
I've been in sole charge of Conrad since Tuesday as well. Julian is still filming in Berlin and Sonja had to go to Rome and then Morocco. We didn't finally patch up things from the disaster of Jack's visit until Thursday evening, so it was a bit rough for a while.
Olie came round today for a Spongebob marathon. I made us a nice lunch and he came with me to pick up the kid. We continued with Spongebob after we got back, and Conrad went outside to play with the neighbor kids. Once they discovered we were watching Spongebob, all the kids joined me and Olie on the couch. Five kids and us. I had one on my lap. It was beyond adorable. I am such a sucker for kids. When they're behaving themselves.
Conrad and I went to dinner later on with Neighbor Clare and her daughter Anoud. Terrible service at the restaurant, but great food, great wine, and I splurged on a slice of cheesecake. Walking back, both kids attacked me and tried to shove me into every hedge we passed. We all shrieked and giggled and had a good time. We'd decided at dinner that Anoud was going to have a sleepover at our house, so Clare and I had a glass of wine in the garden before putting the kids to bed.
But it's 11:30 now and both of them are still awake. I've just now managed to talk them into going back to bed (instead of lounging around on my bed). Oh no wait. They're back.
Anyway. I suppose I just want to say that as much as my job drives me nuts and I want to quit some days, I really genuinely do love parts of it. It's sad that both the parents have to be away for me and Conrad to have a good time, but so it goes. I think it was Olie that was shocked when I said that I still want kids of my own. He couldn't believe that I'd want to deal with it with multiple children for eighteen-plus years after the nightmares I've been through in barely one year with one ten-year-old. And to be fair, I understand where he's coming from. But right now, with both kids being so charmingly cheeky about staying up late even though I know they're both absolutely knackered (and especially since I had to go up there and tuck Anoud into bed since that's what she's used to), I can totally see myself doing the same with a couple of my own. And loving (almost) every minute of it.
Wow.
Granted, I was a bit hopped up on coffee after only getting a couple of hours' sleep the night before, but walking up to the entrance I felt like we'd been driving all morning to get to Magic Mountain ("I wanna go on Goliath first. No, Superman. No, X. No, Colossus...etc. etc.). I was so excited to get inside and see everything I kept hopping around and giggling and generally behaving like a complete goober.
Doesn't help that gorgeous huge old churches usually do a number on me anyway.
The Brittany Grin inadvertently won over one of the vergers (one of the sort of wandering helper people/tour guides). He was a nice older English chap who found out for us that the day's communion service was going to be held in the adjoining chapel because there was a rehearsal that afternoon for an upcoming concert. He also clued us in to a good pub nearby that we could grab a decent lunch at, though he mentioned he was sad he couldn't join us because he didn't have time (he was over 35, thus the Brittany Grin worked its full charming magic. And I was also so bubbly and happy to just be inside the church that I'm sure the Grin was even more potent than usual). As it turns out, the rehearsal was for an upcoming baroque music festival. Helen and I decided to forego taking communion in favor of sticking around for the rehearsal (had to pick up Conrad later that evening and wanted to maximize the time we spent inside the abbey).
I won't get into all the different historical figures whose graves we saw, or how amazing the stained glass windows were, or how completely awestruck we were by the vaulted ceilings. You just have to go and see for yourself.
The rehearsal was amazing. Chamber orchestra covering some Handel pieces. I almost cried. Again. And full goosebumps.
Went window shopping afterwards and found a good place to buy my underthings (hooray for cute bras for big boobs at reasonable prices!).
The evening with Conrad and his friend Jack didn't go so well, but I don't entirely feel like getting into that right now. It wasn't a total loss as I got to meet Jack's babysitter/swim instructor. I mean wow. I was actually speechless when I opened the door. I stammered. It was hysterically funny. Then he started asking questions about me. Lordy. A Polish Adonis. Made all the hell of dealing with Jack worth it.
I've been in sole charge of Conrad since Tuesday as well. Julian is still filming in Berlin and Sonja had to go to Rome and then Morocco. We didn't finally patch up things from the disaster of Jack's visit until Thursday evening, so it was a bit rough for a while.
Olie came round today for a Spongebob marathon. I made us a nice lunch and he came with me to pick up the kid. We continued with Spongebob after we got back, and Conrad went outside to play with the neighbor kids. Once they discovered we were watching Spongebob, all the kids joined me and Olie on the couch. Five kids and us. I had one on my lap. It was beyond adorable. I am such a sucker for kids. When they're behaving themselves.
Conrad and I went to dinner later on with Neighbor Clare and her daughter Anoud. Terrible service at the restaurant, but great food, great wine, and I splurged on a slice of cheesecake. Walking back, both kids attacked me and tried to shove me into every hedge we passed. We all shrieked and giggled and had a good time. We'd decided at dinner that Anoud was going to have a sleepover at our house, so Clare and I had a glass of wine in the garden before putting the kids to bed.
But it's 11:30 now and both of them are still awake. I've just now managed to talk them into going back to bed (instead of lounging around on my bed). Oh no wait. They're back.
Anyway. I suppose I just want to say that as much as my job drives me nuts and I want to quit some days, I really genuinely do love parts of it. It's sad that both the parents have to be away for me and Conrad to have a good time, but so it goes. I think it was Olie that was shocked when I said that I still want kids of my own. He couldn't believe that I'd want to deal with it with multiple children for eighteen-plus years after the nightmares I've been through in barely one year with one ten-year-old. And to be fair, I understand where he's coming from. But right now, with both kids being so charmingly cheeky about staying up late even though I know they're both absolutely knackered (and especially since I had to go up there and tuck Anoud into bed since that's what she's used to), I can totally see myself doing the same with a couple of my own. And loving (almost) every minute of it.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Does rollerskating in London pose particular problems?
Okay, so maybe having that shot of tequila with my classmates earlier in order to celebrate ALL of us being done with exams wasn't the best idea. Especially since I've decided to join Sonja on the South Beach Diet and hadn't eaten anything since scrambled eggs this morning. But then again, how was I to know that events would unfold in the manner they did on the way back from picking up Conrad?
I got back from the pub with time to spare, so I figured I'd strap on the skates to go and get him since the sun decided to re-appear after a rather dismal morning. As I skated up the road to his school, I thought that today would be a good day to possibly post up a blog about the silly things that always seem to transpire when I skate from place to place.
Mainly, people like to stare. For a lot of different reasons. Guys young and old leer at me, but that's a given due to the fact that rollerskating often puts one in a position that's sort of half bent over, and if I happen to make the mistake of wearing a lower-cut top, I suppose the ogling is understandable. I get kindly smiles from soccer moms in their hatchbacks, who I figure are re-living their younger years or something (although I'm not sure how as the neighborhoods here aren't really conducive to skating around with your friends in the summer, nor are there really any roller rinks). Sometimes grandpas smile at me in a way that makes me think they'd really like to wink but aren't sure whether I'd notice as I breeze past, frantically pumping my legs against the asphalt since I'm usually running late for wherever I'm meant to be at. Without fail, all the little kids I go past are perplexed. I've yet to see anyone else on skates (though I have seen a few rollerbladers...lame), so I understand why the children are confused.
And then there are the people that stare at me like they've never seen a person wearing any sort of shoe with wheels attached. Or the people that can't seem to figure out how exactly the whole rollerskating thing works. Or the people that glance up, realize I'm on skates, then return to the London stare (directly at the sidewalk with sporadic glances up to avoid collisions). Inevitably, these three types of people will proceed to barrel down the middle of the narrow sidewalk, leaving me no choice but to slow to an almost-stop in order to let them by. Let's think about this for a moment. You, a normal pedestrian, see a solidly-built girl about 5'8" heading downhill on the sidewalk towards you with a decent amount of speed built up. My first thought would be "Holy crap! I don't know if she can stop on those things!", after which I'd promptly try to hug the nearest wall as closely as possible in order to avoid being run down by this crazy moose woman on skates. But apparently some Londoners are either too arrogant (or stupid) for this thought to cross their minds. So I slow down and give way, but it's always a bitch to get moving again, especially if the sidewalk is rough or if I'm going uphill. Pretentious joggers and power-walkers also seem to expect me to move out of their way. I feel like pointing out to them skating uphill probably burns more calories than running uphill, and that because the sidewalks and roads are rarely nice and smooth, the only time I don't have to work at moving forwards is the downhill bit of Alderbrook Road, where I catch so much downhill speed it sort of scares me. Especially if there are oncoming cars.
Cars. Another fun bit of skating. When going to get Conrad (and indeed, any time I'm on a residential street), I generally stick to skating on the road. Residential streets tend to have sidewalks made of paving stones (which are really just big concrete slabs), that tree roots and life in general have made very uneven. Unlike the pedestrians that seem intent on playing chicken with yours truly, I realize a car will hurt me more than I could hurt it, so I get the hell out of the way. I get the same sorts of stares from drivers as I do from pedestrians, although the soccer moms are more annoying in that they slow down to really draw the nostalgic moment out. Again, I'm usually running late (that's why I'm skating, I can move faster), so idling past me as I've respectfully pulled off to the side to let you pass is making me later still. I always giggle a bit when I get the polite "thanks for letting me pass" wave (as though I were another car or a cyclist), and I'm really surprised nobody has honked at me yet because I'm in the way. Then again, I am pretty vigilant in keeping my eyes and ears out for approaching cars, so it's rare that I haven't skated out of the way long before they get close enough to overtake me.
Overall, I like skating because I get where I need to be just a little bit quicker and it's better exercise than just walking (plus I'm hoping it'll tone my backside up a bit to the point where I might just actually have an ass and can stop worrying about just my hips holding up my jeans). And when the sun is shining I can close my eyes (just for the briefest of moments, safety first), and imagine that I'm back at Doheny, skating to the marina for an ice cream. Plus, Conrad really seems to get a kick out of me picking him up in skates. The parents, teachers, and other nannies look at me funny (a lot of the creepy dads leer), but he always seems to give me a happier hug when I'm in skates.
He also really enjoys grabbing one of my hands and towing me down the road. Which brings me to today's unfortunate turn of events. There are two stretches of the trip where I'm forced to navigate the sidewalks: the very last bit before his school on Brompton Road and the section down Nightingale Lane. While being a residential road, Brompton also sees quite a bit of traffic, including buses and bigger delivery vans. The bit I have to go on the sidewalk for is paved with bricks and pretty flat, so it's not difficult to manage provided some conceited mother isn't gallivanting right smack dab down the center of the sidewalk with her double-wide stroller. Nightingale Lane is also bricked, but is full of little hills and valleys that require extra attention on my part to keep from biffing it and falling. The valleys make for some very tempting puddles after a rain, though I've yet to skate through one. Nightingale is also a main road, and it was scary enough riding Neighbor Clare's bike there the other morning as I was rushing Conrad's forgotten PE equipment to him, let alone trying to share the road with roller skates on.
For whatever reason, Conrad decides today that he's going to tow me down the Nightingale Lane section of our walk home. At a run. For a 10-year-old, he's got a pretty strong grip, and we picked up enough speed to make it slightly unwise for me to forcibly rip my hand from his. And although I was screaming at him to let go of me, he ignored me completely and kept going (not that he has a habit of ignoring me completely). I manage to keep myself together for the hills, valleys, and the one bit with broken glass before he finally lets go of my hand. Right before the sidewalk narrows and one of those big rectangular metal cover thingies takes up most of the available sidewalk (you know, where the water/gas/cable or whatever company hides their big shutoff switches for your block). There's not enough time to stop, so I bend my knees and try to coast over the knobbly metal cover and the raised concrete lip that's around it. I didn't even make it over the lip.
The last time I fell on these skates I was attempting to skate on a dirt path despite being ridiculously tequila hungover and thus very wobbly. I lost my balance and landed hard on my ass. Every time I've almost fallen (but managed to save myself at the last moment due to my catlike poise and reflexes...meow), it's also been something that would've resulted in me winding up on my backside. For me, skating is not coupled with a worry of faceplanting. I'm constantly concerned I may wind up on my ass.
Unless I've just been towed into the sidewalk obstacle from hell. Then apparently my only available option is to literally belly flop onto the pavement. Literally. Belly flop. Like you used to do into the pool when you still thought it was funny to have your stomach sting for half an hour afterwards. Did I mention that Nightingale Lane always has a decent amount of traffic? Especially after 4-ish and rush hour starts to pick up. Both pedestrian and motor traffic. Some guys in a delivery van were especially amused, and while I didn't actually see them, I'm sure they were hanging out their windows as they drove past, hooting and hollering and laughing and cheering at me in all my humiliated glory. Conrad was laughing too, and made no effort to help me up from my inert face-down position. Great.
I suppose the upside is that I didn't get any scrapes or injuries (although I've got a wicked headache right now), and to be fair, I did laugh a bit once my legs got steady enough to start skating again. Will this tragic event persuade me to hang up my skates? Probably not. You might be thinking I brought it on myself, letting a kid drag me down sidewalk, and you're probably right. I think it also was my comeuppance for bragging about my skating abilities at the pub earlier (I was trying to rally people to go to the roller disco with me, and I thought if I pointed out how good I was and thus could teach them how, they might go). Regardless, this is still nowhere near as painful and bad as that time I let my friend TJ push me down that park sidewalk in a shopping cart.
One day I'll learn. Maybe.
I got back from the pub with time to spare, so I figured I'd strap on the skates to go and get him since the sun decided to re-appear after a rather dismal morning. As I skated up the road to his school, I thought that today would be a good day to possibly post up a blog about the silly things that always seem to transpire when I skate from place to place.
Mainly, people like to stare. For a lot of different reasons. Guys young and old leer at me, but that's a given due to the fact that rollerskating often puts one in a position that's sort of half bent over, and if I happen to make the mistake of wearing a lower-cut top, I suppose the ogling is understandable. I get kindly smiles from soccer moms in their hatchbacks, who I figure are re-living their younger years or something (although I'm not sure how as the neighborhoods here aren't really conducive to skating around with your friends in the summer, nor are there really any roller rinks). Sometimes grandpas smile at me in a way that makes me think they'd really like to wink but aren't sure whether I'd notice as I breeze past, frantically pumping my legs against the asphalt since I'm usually running late for wherever I'm meant to be at. Without fail, all the little kids I go past are perplexed. I've yet to see anyone else on skates (though I have seen a few rollerbladers...lame), so I understand why the children are confused.
And then there are the people that stare at me like they've never seen a person wearing any sort of shoe with wheels attached. Or the people that can't seem to figure out how exactly the whole rollerskating thing works. Or the people that glance up, realize I'm on skates, then return to the London stare (directly at the sidewalk with sporadic glances up to avoid collisions). Inevitably, these three types of people will proceed to barrel down the middle of the narrow sidewalk, leaving me no choice but to slow to an almost-stop in order to let them by. Let's think about this for a moment. You, a normal pedestrian, see a solidly-built girl about 5'8" heading downhill on the sidewalk towards you with a decent amount of speed built up. My first thought would be "Holy crap! I don't know if she can stop on those things!", after which I'd promptly try to hug the nearest wall as closely as possible in order to avoid being run down by this crazy moose woman on skates. But apparently some Londoners are either too arrogant (or stupid) for this thought to cross their minds. So I slow down and give way, but it's always a bitch to get moving again, especially if the sidewalk is rough or if I'm going uphill. Pretentious joggers and power-walkers also seem to expect me to move out of their way. I feel like pointing out to them skating uphill probably burns more calories than running uphill, and that because the sidewalks and roads are rarely nice and smooth, the only time I don't have to work at moving forwards is the downhill bit of Alderbrook Road, where I catch so much downhill speed it sort of scares me. Especially if there are oncoming cars.
Cars. Another fun bit of skating. When going to get Conrad (and indeed, any time I'm on a residential street), I generally stick to skating on the road. Residential streets tend to have sidewalks made of paving stones (which are really just big concrete slabs), that tree roots and life in general have made very uneven. Unlike the pedestrians that seem intent on playing chicken with yours truly, I realize a car will hurt me more than I could hurt it, so I get the hell out of the way. I get the same sorts of stares from drivers as I do from pedestrians, although the soccer moms are more annoying in that they slow down to really draw the nostalgic moment out. Again, I'm usually running late (that's why I'm skating, I can move faster), so idling past me as I've respectfully pulled off to the side to let you pass is making me later still. I always giggle a bit when I get the polite "thanks for letting me pass" wave (as though I were another car or a cyclist), and I'm really surprised nobody has honked at me yet because I'm in the way. Then again, I am pretty vigilant in keeping my eyes and ears out for approaching cars, so it's rare that I haven't skated out of the way long before they get close enough to overtake me.
Overall, I like skating because I get where I need to be just a little bit quicker and it's better exercise than just walking (plus I'm hoping it'll tone my backside up a bit to the point where I might just actually have an ass and can stop worrying about just my hips holding up my jeans). And when the sun is shining I can close my eyes (just for the briefest of moments, safety first), and imagine that I'm back at Doheny, skating to the marina for an ice cream. Plus, Conrad really seems to get a kick out of me picking him up in skates. The parents, teachers, and other nannies look at me funny (a lot of the creepy dads leer), but he always seems to give me a happier hug when I'm in skates.
He also really enjoys grabbing one of my hands and towing me down the road. Which brings me to today's unfortunate turn of events. There are two stretches of the trip where I'm forced to navigate the sidewalks: the very last bit before his school on Brompton Road and the section down Nightingale Lane. While being a residential road, Brompton also sees quite a bit of traffic, including buses and bigger delivery vans. The bit I have to go on the sidewalk for is paved with bricks and pretty flat, so it's not difficult to manage provided some conceited mother isn't gallivanting right smack dab down the center of the sidewalk with her double-wide stroller. Nightingale Lane is also bricked, but is full of little hills and valleys that require extra attention on my part to keep from biffing it and falling. The valleys make for some very tempting puddles after a rain, though I've yet to skate through one. Nightingale is also a main road, and it was scary enough riding Neighbor Clare's bike there the other morning as I was rushing Conrad's forgotten PE equipment to him, let alone trying to share the road with roller skates on.
For whatever reason, Conrad decides today that he's going to tow me down the Nightingale Lane section of our walk home. At a run. For a 10-year-old, he's got a pretty strong grip, and we picked up enough speed to make it slightly unwise for me to forcibly rip my hand from his. And although I was screaming at him to let go of me, he ignored me completely and kept going (not that he has a habit of ignoring me completely). I manage to keep myself together for the hills, valleys, and the one bit with broken glass before he finally lets go of my hand. Right before the sidewalk narrows and one of those big rectangular metal cover thingies takes up most of the available sidewalk (you know, where the water/gas/cable or whatever company hides their big shutoff switches for your block). There's not enough time to stop, so I bend my knees and try to coast over the knobbly metal cover and the raised concrete lip that's around it. I didn't even make it over the lip.
The last time I fell on these skates I was attempting to skate on a dirt path despite being ridiculously tequila hungover and thus very wobbly. I lost my balance and landed hard on my ass. Every time I've almost fallen (but managed to save myself at the last moment due to my catlike poise and reflexes...meow), it's also been something that would've resulted in me winding up on my backside. For me, skating is not coupled with a worry of faceplanting. I'm constantly concerned I may wind up on my ass.
Unless I've just been towed into the sidewalk obstacle from hell. Then apparently my only available option is to literally belly flop onto the pavement. Literally. Belly flop. Like you used to do into the pool when you still thought it was funny to have your stomach sting for half an hour afterwards. Did I mention that Nightingale Lane always has a decent amount of traffic? Especially after 4-ish and rush hour starts to pick up. Both pedestrian and motor traffic. Some guys in a delivery van were especially amused, and while I didn't actually see them, I'm sure they were hanging out their windows as they drove past, hooting and hollering and laughing and cheering at me in all my humiliated glory. Conrad was laughing too, and made no effort to help me up from my inert face-down position. Great.
I suppose the upside is that I didn't get any scrapes or injuries (although I've got a wicked headache right now), and to be fair, I did laugh a bit once my legs got steady enough to start skating again. Will this tragic event persuade me to hang up my skates? Probably not. You might be thinking I brought it on myself, letting a kid drag me down sidewalk, and you're probably right. I think it also was my comeuppance for bragging about my skating abilities at the pub earlier (I was trying to rally people to go to the roller disco with me, and I thought if I pointed out how good I was and thus could teach them how, they might go). Regardless, this is still nowhere near as painful and bad as that time I let my friend TJ push me down that park sidewalk in a shopping cart.
One day I'll learn. Maybe.
Monday, May 12, 2008
It's really over...
SCHOOL IS DONE!
Has been since last Thursday, but I've been so caught up in celebrating and winding down that I've not really been on the computer. Just got back from taking Conrad to school and the sun hasn't completely hit the garden yet, so I'm resolved to sit down and talk about the wonder and majesty that are final exams at Goldsmiths.
I wasn't nervous about my medieval history class. My friend Olie and I spent nearly a month studying for it, and it was gorgeously sunny that morning (allowing me to wear a sun dress and flip flops), so I was ridiculously calm going into it. So much so that Sonja was concerned. But to be fair, I really can't get worked up about things when the sun is showing itself for the first time in WEEKS...
Anyway. Exam-taking here is a curious affair. I'm used to having to run to the student bookstore first and stock up on Scantrons and blue books, but they provide all that for you. You also can't bring in any bags or coats or anything, and you have to empty your pockets into these chintzy little white plastic bags, tie them securely, then leave it all under your desk for the duration of the exam. You can have a bottle of water and extra pens and such, and it goes without saying that your cell phone has to be shut off. Both of my exams took place in the Great Hall, which is obviously this big room in the main building. I was surprised to notice they have a pipe organ in the front as well as choir seating thingies up on a big stage. The floor is lined with rows of individual desks, and since there are multiple classes taking their exam in there with you, after walking in you have to first find your class, then walk up the rows and find the desk that has your name on it. There are a bunch of teacher-types wandering around (their official name is "exam invigilators"...how ridiculous is that?), and the head one reads off the important announcement things (i.e.: DON'T CHEAT), and then you're off.
My medieval exam was only a two-hour essay deal. Thirteen questions, pick two, write two essays. As I looked over the questions, I realized I could've gotten away with a massive three-day study blitz and been fine. Oh well. I don't think I've ever been able to say that I've been over-prepared for a final before. Wrote an essay on mendicant orders and another about the "fall" of the Roman Empire. Finished about fifteen minutes early and just sat and stared. Tried to avoid eye contact with the scary teacher who I'm sure I've mentioned before. Olie and I then treated ourselves to a quick bit of shopping (I wandered into a Claire's for the first time in ages and got a cute pair of earrings as well as some ridiculous High School Musical socks Olie talked me into). Had a pint to celebrate being half done, went home and my brain turned to mush so I called it an early night.
Got up the next morning and was greeted by more gorgeous sunlight, so after taking Conrad to school I got my books and my bathing suit and sat in the back garden all day, listening to music and chatting on IM. Good times. Got a teensy bit of a sunburn that morphed into a nice tan the next day.
Woke up the next morning to even more sunlight but sadly had no more sundresses to wear, so I opted for cutoffs and a t-shirt and headed off to school after dropping off Conrad. About halfway there my stomach tied itself in knots and I almost threw up. Apparently my head decided to be nervous about the English exam. Ridiculous. English exams have always been easy. This one, however, is a three-hour monster. Have to pick one essay topic from three different sections and write an essay for each, without using any one piece of literature that we'd covered in more than just one essay. Sweet. Wrote one about Homer, one about Strindberg, and one about Atwood and Brookmyre (great essay on the functions of mockery in a text...kept wanting to use the phrase "taking the piss", but thankfully managed to avoid doing so). Finished fifteen minutes early again, did a doodle on the back of the question booklet, then strode out of there a bit weak-kneed since all the school stress was attempting to leave my body at once (which wouldn't have normally been a problem except that I think that stress was all that was keeping me going by the end...). I was actually shaking as we all congregated outside the Great Hall while deciding which pub to go to.
Wound up at the Hobgoblin, where I wound up being the only one of the group that was completely done with finals. Had a good time sitting in the sunny beer garden out back. And thus it came to pass that I was completely done with school.
Didn't actually get to properly celebrate until Friday night since Sonja was out of town the night of my last final. The weather was still nice on Friday, so I joined a bunch of classmates in the grassy courtyard of one of the dorm halls and hung out for hours. Went back to Olie's flat later that night for a dance party, which lasted until the sun came up, so we abandoned the dance party to go and find a field from which to watch the sun rise. Pictures and video on facebook. Got home at about 7:30 Saturday morning. Surprisingly, didn't actually drink that much. In fact, the bottle of vodka I brought with me never even got opened. Just good times with good folks. Made a couple of new friends too.
So now I'm trying to adjust to having nothing to occupy my day other than housework. I've ordered my textbook for the Old English class I'm taking next year, so I think I'm going to get a jump start on that as well as start teaching myself Latin. Exciting stuff. Especially Latin. I've already read two books since Saturday, and I'm probably going to raid Sonja's library for more tomorrow. Especially since the weather is still supposed to be nice and I have no intention of leaving the house.
Anyway. Time to go. More about the situation my job has evolved into later. Maybe tomorrow night.
Has been since last Thursday, but I've been so caught up in celebrating and winding down that I've not really been on the computer. Just got back from taking Conrad to school and the sun hasn't completely hit the garden yet, so I'm resolved to sit down and talk about the wonder and majesty that are final exams at Goldsmiths.
I wasn't nervous about my medieval history class. My friend Olie and I spent nearly a month studying for it, and it was gorgeously sunny that morning (allowing me to wear a sun dress and flip flops), so I was ridiculously calm going into it. So much so that Sonja was concerned. But to be fair, I really can't get worked up about things when the sun is showing itself for the first time in WEEKS...
Anyway. Exam-taking here is a curious affair. I'm used to having to run to the student bookstore first and stock up on Scantrons and blue books, but they provide all that for you. You also can't bring in any bags or coats or anything, and you have to empty your pockets into these chintzy little white plastic bags, tie them securely, then leave it all under your desk for the duration of the exam. You can have a bottle of water and extra pens and such, and it goes without saying that your cell phone has to be shut off. Both of my exams took place in the Great Hall, which is obviously this big room in the main building. I was surprised to notice they have a pipe organ in the front as well as choir seating thingies up on a big stage. The floor is lined with rows of individual desks, and since there are multiple classes taking their exam in there with you, after walking in you have to first find your class, then walk up the rows and find the desk that has your name on it. There are a bunch of teacher-types wandering around (their official name is "exam invigilators"...how ridiculous is that?), and the head one reads off the important announcement things (i.e.: DON'T CHEAT), and then you're off.
My medieval exam was only a two-hour essay deal. Thirteen questions, pick two, write two essays. As I looked over the questions, I realized I could've gotten away with a massive three-day study blitz and been fine. Oh well. I don't think I've ever been able to say that I've been over-prepared for a final before. Wrote an essay on mendicant orders and another about the "fall" of the Roman Empire. Finished about fifteen minutes early and just sat and stared. Tried to avoid eye contact with the scary teacher who I'm sure I've mentioned before. Olie and I then treated ourselves to a quick bit of shopping (I wandered into a Claire's for the first time in ages and got a cute pair of earrings as well as some ridiculous High School Musical socks Olie talked me into). Had a pint to celebrate being half done, went home and my brain turned to mush so I called it an early night.
Got up the next morning and was greeted by more gorgeous sunlight, so after taking Conrad to school I got my books and my bathing suit and sat in the back garden all day, listening to music and chatting on IM. Good times. Got a teensy bit of a sunburn that morphed into a nice tan the next day.
Woke up the next morning to even more sunlight but sadly had no more sundresses to wear, so I opted for cutoffs and a t-shirt and headed off to school after dropping off Conrad. About halfway there my stomach tied itself in knots and I almost threw up. Apparently my head decided to be nervous about the English exam. Ridiculous. English exams have always been easy. This one, however, is a three-hour monster. Have to pick one essay topic from three different sections and write an essay for each, without using any one piece of literature that we'd covered in more than just one essay. Sweet. Wrote one about Homer, one about Strindberg, and one about Atwood and Brookmyre (great essay on the functions of mockery in a text...kept wanting to use the phrase "taking the piss", but thankfully managed to avoid doing so). Finished fifteen minutes early again, did a doodle on the back of the question booklet, then strode out of there a bit weak-kneed since all the school stress was attempting to leave my body at once (which wouldn't have normally been a problem except that I think that stress was all that was keeping me going by the end...). I was actually shaking as we all congregated outside the Great Hall while deciding which pub to go to.
Wound up at the Hobgoblin, where I wound up being the only one of the group that was completely done with finals. Had a good time sitting in the sunny beer garden out back. And thus it came to pass that I was completely done with school.
Didn't actually get to properly celebrate until Friday night since Sonja was out of town the night of my last final. The weather was still nice on Friday, so I joined a bunch of classmates in the grassy courtyard of one of the dorm halls and hung out for hours. Went back to Olie's flat later that night for a dance party, which lasted until the sun came up, so we abandoned the dance party to go and find a field from which to watch the sun rise. Pictures and video on facebook. Got home at about 7:30 Saturday morning. Surprisingly, didn't actually drink that much. In fact, the bottle of vodka I brought with me never even got opened. Just good times with good folks. Made a couple of new friends too.
So now I'm trying to adjust to having nothing to occupy my day other than housework. I've ordered my textbook for the Old English class I'm taking next year, so I think I'm going to get a jump start on that as well as start teaching myself Latin. Exciting stuff. Especially Latin. I've already read two books since Saturday, and I'm probably going to raid Sonja's library for more tomorrow. Especially since the weather is still supposed to be nice and I have no intention of leaving the house.
Anyway. Time to go. More about the situation my job has evolved into later. Maybe tomorrow night.
Monday, May 05, 2008
It's the night before my first final...
...and whilst I really want to sit down and tell you all about my trip to the beach yesterday, I really should get a good night's sleep instead.
So instead I'll post this recap of what I've been up to since February 24th of this year, courtesy of all the statuses I posted on Facebook...
So instead I'll post this recap of what I've been up to since February 24th of this year, courtesy of all the statuses I posted on Facebook...
Today
Brittany realizes she should've typed up her MME notes sooner and sold copies. Too bad she can't do it next year.11:10pm
Brittany should really probably stop geeking out on this music, but damn. Perfect!9:14pm
Brittany is all like, "Good God. I am so tired of this right now."5:22pm
Brittany is sore from running on the beach?10:00am
Brittany is still completely twacked out. She must remember to put a curse on the folks that manufacture Diet Pepsi.2:12am
Yesterday
Brittany is completely twacked out. Weird.11:04pm
Brittany is hiding so as to avoid frustrating revision. Let them experience how damn difficult it is.7:04pm
Brittany still can't believe her dad hadn't heard about the Wii.7:56am
May 3
Brittany just gave away her weekend. Damn.1:20pm
May 2
Brittany knows better than to build castles in the sky. Even though some of them look so damn pretty.4:45pm
Brittany loves each and every one of her friends.9:22am
May 1
Brittany wonders why Paula Abdul hasn't imploded yet.10:12pm
Brittany thinks she may just play The Sims until the cleaner leaves.8:57am
April 30
Brittany has a reading problem.4:46pm
April 29
Brittany is on her way to complete relaxation.9:19pm
April 28
Brittany is going to celebrate her first essay-free evening by staying up late reading a non-school-related book. With a glass (or two) of wine.8:53pm
Brittany really wants to hear Emma say "you gave me a social disease!" Right now.2:45pm
Brittany is done. Time for bubble bath.12:56pm
Brittany loves the snazzy things Word can do with footnotes.2:37am
Brittany can't wait for Tuesday.12:33am
April 27
Brittany is amused that spark notes has a link to Domino's online order service. She loves pizza and studying. Not Dominos though.11:42pm
Brittany might be mad at the world again.5:30pm
April 26
Brittany really wants to go shopping.11:37pm
Brittany is mad facebook won't let her list her relationship status as "married to her work". Jerks.11:27am
Brittany was amazed to discover how much she missed drinking dark ale.11:20am
April 25
Brittany had such a good time. Sucks she has to iron now. How do you iron a dust ruffle?2:23pm
April 24
Brittany hurts.7:23pm
Brittany hates footnotes.3:22pm/>
Brittany just might take a nap. Or have a cigarette.2:43pm
Brittany might be on the home stretch.7:59am
Brittany loves instant coffee and cigarettes. And granola bars.3:33am
Brittany has every appliance in the kitchen running...1:34am
April 23
Brittany should stop telling herself that a glass of wine is a study aid (but it'll help her chill out and focus...).10:22pm
Brittany hates Freud again.6:22pm
April 21
Brittany thinks the only thing cooler than her new hairdo is that it was free. Word.6:11pm
April 20
Brittany is practising for something that probably won't happen.11:37pm
April 19
Brittany is still listening to the Beatles.10:26am
April 18
Brittany is bored and listening to the Beatles.6:08pm
April 17
Brittany put too much honey in. Oh well.8:42pm
Brittany finally watched it. Meh.2:12am
April 16
Brittany is completely f-ing fed up with drama queen children.9:45pm
April 15
Brittany has a crush on Eric Bana again.10:19pm
Brittany apparently cannot help but asphyxiate herself with cleaning chemicals.1:23pm
Brittany enthusiastically went for a jog. Ignorance is indeed bliss.9:09am
April 14
Brittany wishes to go beddie-bye.9:39pm
April 13
Brittany has a sore jaw. Don't make any jokes.9:47pm
April 12
Brittany is not gonna revise any more tonight. Bring on the bad movies!11:42pm
Brittany really needs to find the perfect socks for roller skating. The ones she has now just aren't cutting it.12:55pm
April 11
Brittany is going roller skating tomorrow. Weather permitting.10:14pm
Brittany wished the takeout delivery guy would hurry up already.8:55pm
Brittany has answered all of Booze Mail's booze trivia questions. And thus is bored again.2:30am
April 10
Brittany is falling back in love with mcnamara/troy.10:37pm
Brittany still has a scratchy throat from her idiocy yesterday cleaning the iron.2:37pm
April 9
Brittany wonders who the hell talked Adam Corolla into doing Dancing with the Stars. Doesn't that cancel out all his work on The Man Show?3:32pm
Brittany realized the time has come to get to work.12:06pm
April 8
Brittany is super stoked KU won.8:32pm
April 6
Brittany has been inspired to make snickerdoodles.5:35pm
April 5
Brittany fixed the plugin situation...now she just has to stay awake long enough.10:01pm
Brittany really wishes she had dayquil too.5:40pm
Brittany hopes she gets to watch KU stomp UNC. Might not be able to stay awake that late...3:44pm
Brittany feels like a real person again. Hooray for showers and toothbrushes!1:14am
April 4
Brittany feels like it's Sunday.9:25pm
April 3
Brittany is hurting. And has a kid today. And has decided to no longer be affected by the "g" word.9:57am
Brittany is hurting. And has a kid today. Rats.9:55am
April 2
Brittany is still really giggly over her awesome April Fools joke...2:00am
April 1
Brittany still has a job. Woot.10:56pm
Brittany might not have a job after tonight.4:37pm
March 31
Brittany loves George of the Jungle.8:33pm
Brittany might just be a coward.7:00pm
Brittany is no longer concerned with job performance.1:25pm
Brittany is hopefully going to get back on track. Starting with ironing. Ugh.11:33am
Brittany wishes she could find sleep.4:48am
Brittany is contemplating Nyquil.12:19am
March 30
Brittany is extraordinarily hungover after some failed beer-ritas and getting lost in Sydenham.1:31pm
March 29
Brittany doesn't know what her status is.5:36pm
March 28
Brittany is not obeying her own rules for jetlag.8:48pm
March 26
Brittany is bidding farewell to the sun...11:03pm
March 23
Brittany is a bronze goddess.9:11pm
March 19
Brittany is fervently worshipping the sun.3:54am
March 16
Brittany is getting ready to do nothing again.6:34pm
March 15
Brittany is sort of hungover and sort of sunburned. Good first day at Daweenie.7:40pm
March 13
Brittany is about to wear shorts and a tank top. God bless California.6:18pm
March 11
Brittany just had a scare. Thought the charity shop folks snuck Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat into the box for Point Break. *shudders*.8:51pm
March 10
Brittany cannot wait to get on a plane.8:33pm
March 9
Brittany would like someone to explain to her why she has a crush on Robert Carlyle.10:45pm
Brittany is going to miss Indian food.9:50pm
Brittany did not fall asleep on the bus this time. Hooray for small improvements!4:06am
March 8
Brittany can't believe she fell asleep on the bus.4:55am
March 6
Brittany is tired of attention-hungry fat cats.10:24pm
Brittany is going to read herself to sleep.10:20pm
Brittany needs to watch more football. From the privacy of her own home.10:03pm
March 5
Brittany sleepy.11:48pm
March 4
Brittany should not have turned on the office.10:00pm
Brittany is going to bed early like a good girl.8:52pm
March 3
Brittany is done with it. Thank the lord!11:06pm
Brittany is accepting applications for her circus.7:15pm
Brittany is all hopped-up on Diet Pepsi and extra cheese.12:17am
March 2
Brittany hates having last-minute revelations about homework. Oral history! Why didn't she think of it before?9:08pm
Brittany shouldn't be this amused by Freud. Arrogant bastard. Arrogant clinical charlatanic bastard.7:12pm
Brittany has run out of easy procrastination options. Options that require effort sort of defeat the purpose...1:33pm
Brittany is completely enthralled with Mr. Brookmyre. She can't believe she gets to read this for an English 101 class...1:47am
March 1
Brittany is tired from roller skating. Damn bumpy sidewalks.4:15pm
February 27
Brittany is working out the logistics of wearing her new skates everywhere.2:13pm
February 26
Brittany has a brand-new pair of roller skates. Do you have a brand-new key?6:40pm
February 25
Brittany has turned on Bill & Ted to help her write her history essay. Wyld Stallyns!1:41pm
Brittany wasted all that time on a crappy book.12:26am
February 24
Brittany really must work on essays today. Poop.11:00am
...I don't make much sense, do I?
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