On Reflection

In a small journey of self-discovery, this week I have spent some time on reflective practice. All good for personal growth I’m told – or, at least I was told when being made to write a reflective journal during my dance teacher training. I was unconvinced at the time but on reflection it does at least pass quiet time at work in a positive and productive manner.

 

This move was spurred in part by frustration that I’m in the wrong job and need to think about how to change it; but also due to my rejection from the communication team. Well – I say rejection, but actually I was told that it was full and I should email them with my skills so I could be involved on an ad-hoc basis. What do the full members have that I don’t eh? Perhaps a forthcomingness in regard to their skillset.

 

My initial reaction of course, was that I have no useful skills, or at least none that are provable.  I could have given a link to the blog (what’s that except evidence of my communication skills) but as my most recent post included some not very positive thoughts on my job I decided that may not go down so well. Wise decision, do you think?

 

So what are my skills then?

 

That was the first thing. Skills brainstorm. Then an online personality quiz that informed me I was ‘Yellow’ (creative performer). Then a funny task where I had to pick my favourite words out of a list: gradually narrowing them down to find my core values. These ended up as compassion, courage, learning, creativity and freedom. All very pleasing words I’m sure you’ll agree.

 

But of course this is all useless if I don’t use it. It all really just furthers my assurance that I would have rather enjoyed the extra-curricular communication of the communications team (exactly what they do is unsure); but that my role doesn’t really fit with either my yellowness or my chosen words.

 

I’m aware that this is a) highly unscientific and b) obvious without the reflection. I do have a small plan though. I think I’m going to do a writing course. Perhaps I’ll improve these ramblings somewhat. At the very least it will be a tick in the learning box.

 

So maybe this reflection business is useful after all.

Office Life

It’s been just over a year since I walked into an office and sat down to work. It’s been a month since I changed role, knowing that in order to preserve myself, I couldn’t commit to the same tasks anymore. If you know something is not right, change it. Even if the change is still a temporary measure during the search for something else. I also realised that I needed to reintroduce some things that had slipped in discovering office-me.

1.       Moving. Chair sitting is not good. Curve, arch, tilt, lift, jump, stretch, run are. And the more they happen, the happier the body is. You don’t realise the importance of this when you have the chance, within your work and lifestyle, to do this anyway. Never take this for granted.
2.       Writing. Making. Creating. Putting a pen on a page and making my own mark.
3.       Small rebellion. I’m writing this at my desk. There is no work. No one will miss my input for 5 minutes. But it feels like a secret for me.

It’s not come completely naturally to me, this office thing. It is alien to sit, near but not near, to my colleagues: all eyes on screen, all plugged in. How do you really get to know someone without standing in a circle with them; talking about anything to pass the time; strange vocal warm-ups, contact improvisation. How do you laugh together when to look at someone you must look sideways? Or over a computer?

Also, what is everyone thinking? Here I am, working briefly on my soul (again, only because the worklog is empty- and I will deprive myself of a coffee break) thinking I could be somewhere else. And everyone else seems engrossed. Working. Focussed. I wonder if, in their heads, they are in a rocket to the moon, punting through the fens, dancing at The Royal Opera House? Or are they here?

A short anecdote.

I was chatting with “Helen” near the coffee machine (Note: the coffee in the café is not worth paying for so may as well drink the free stuff). I do not know “Helen” well. I don’t know anyone here very well, having only moved to this job a month ago. However, we were chatting and I couldn’t help noticing her front tooth. You know, when your eyes are drawn to that tell-tale smudge and you can’t tear them away.

As awkward it is, you’d want to be told right? So I, full of honourable intentions, thinking I was being a good person, said:

‘Oh, Helen, I think you have a bit of lipstick on your tooth…’

She frowned, touched the tooth. ‘Erm…I’m not wearing lipstick…I have stained teeth.’

‘Oh.’

And I just walked away hoping the ground would swallow me. I'm such a Dickhead.

Goodbye Facebook

A month ago I did something crazy. I left Facebook.
Now to be honest, I'm not entirely sure who will read this blog as in the past my readers were all my Facebook friends. So welcome reader! You are either my mother who checks my blog relatively regularly despite my poor dedication levels or you are some stranger who has happened across this post by accident on some virtual adventure.
This isolation is, I suppose, one of the downsides of being deactivated as a social media presence. How will I hear about all the parties now? Who will invite me to hen dos or theatre performances? From where will my liberal political views gain their evidence? How will I find out what my friends' lives hold?
The only answer I can hope for here is: real life.
This will take a little more effort on my part. At the moment I am happily living in a bubble of semi-ignorance but of course that cannot continue. With isolation comes ossification and I did not leave Facebook to become out of touch. It may sound counter-intuitive but I left Facebook to feel more involved, more connected, more engaged.
What I hope for is that without the easy option of browsing my friends' walls, I will be more likely to pick up the phone (which I have always been very awkward about using....ummmm.....), or better, arrange to meet. We can have the joy of giving news in person instead of being met with "oh yes, I saw that on Facebook." I can hear the good and the bad: stories about holidays instead of just the perfectly posed pictures; worries that never make it to that not-real world because they don't require a 'like' but a cup of tea and a hug; spur of the moment jokes; debates about the minutiae of life however profound or silly they might be.
I also hope I will read the news, watch documentaries, look with my own eyes and form my own opinions instead of relying what Facebook gives me: carefully selected guardian articles, petitions, armchair activism that means nothing. Yes those sources are valid and I often share the leanings I see on my wall but I don't feel truly equipped to be sure of my opinion that way.
I've been gone for a month now and I'm sure very few people have noticed that I am. But I have noticed that instead of scanning my news feed when I'm on the bus, I observe the world I am passing through. Instead of wasting time clinking on all those silly articles about what child stars are doing now, I am reading a book or playing the ukulele or colouring or...
However!! I can hardly get on my high horse about this. I am still on Instagram. I do waste a little time every few days scanning through the National Geographic posts or getting holiday envy for the travel bloggers. Nobody's perfect and I like the pretty pictures, OK?!
But I do feel so good for claiming some of my life back. I have freed myself from online so that I have time...to blog. Ha!

Not the Fairy Anymore

It's a funny thing isn't it, Facebook? Often annoying and frustrating but it's strangely addictive. Boring yet compelling. But despite its faults it made me realise something quite wonderful yesterday. My life is better now than it was before.
I often feel like nothing has changed for me. I have so far managed to avoid making any major decisions about my life and now that I'm definitely shimmying my way into my late twenties it seems to be quarter-life crisis time. What exactly have I achieved? Why do I want everything and yet nothing in particular? Why does everyone have goals and I don't? You read magazine articles about this stuff so I know I'm not the only one.
And yet, I look on Facebook and all my old school friends seem to be incredibly successful; my acquaintances are constantly on holiday; someone just won the Nobel Prize for Physics. That kind of thing.
Well yesterday, at the top of my Newsfeed this picture appeared:

"This was you four years ago today."
Putting aside the creepy omniscience of this function I was suddenly incredibly happy not to be that me anymore.
You can't tell but this picture shows me very angry, and for someone who is never angry that's quite a big statement. I had to wear that stupid costume so many times. It smelled bad because it was never cleaned; it was too big so was always gaping and yet too small so if I ever had to pick something up off the floor anywhere near pervy boss man...it was uncomfortable. Everyone knew I hated that outfit. I refused to wear it so often and yet here I am putting it on again.
One time my manager didn't even tell me I'd have to go on stage in it to present awards, the client sprang it on me by thanking me in advance for "agreeing" to help out. Gritted teeth: "Oh! No problem."
Can I add that this was a waitressing job? Waitressing not performing. As the fairy, I still had to do all the normal running around but I had to do it in wings and stockings and a forced smile. And I wasn't paid any extra. That was the most galling thing I think. If I was hired to do that in my capacity as a dancer it would've been quite a nice little earner probably. Enough for Christmas presents anyway.
Although actually I'm wrong. The most galling thing was that even though I complained, in the end I still did it when I should have stood up for myself or slammed the door in their face.
It wasn't only the fairy. It was a strange time in my life and the fairy has come to represent everything I didn't like about it: doing things that I didn't want to do instead of things I did. So silly of me!
And now? Perhaps I don't have my dream job but I'm treated well. I don't feel as challenged as I'd like but I watch amazing artists, play games and tell stories. And crucially I'm not the fairy anymore. I left a bit of life that made me angry and never looked back. It's a tiny thing but four-years-ago me is very happy because of it.
So thanks Facebook. That was a nice reminder.

Jobs (many many jobs) and why you should give one of them to me.

I'm procrastinating.
Almost an hour ago I sat down to do some work and instead I've made myself a cup of tea, caught up with My Dad Wrote a Porno, wandered around the house in an aimless fashion and now I find myself blogging. It's amazing what you catch up on when you are avoiding filling out application forms.
I'm sure you all know the feeling. I'm sick of my own address. I'm even more sick of my (lack of) qualifications and employment history. It's hard work spinning dancing, giving people food and standing around in case a building burns down into an array of employable attributes. But I'm persevering and one day I'll be rewarded. I will. Yes.
Of course the application form is only the first step. There are cover letters to be written: a fresh one for each of the many jobs I really want and am absolutely perfect for.  I want no one but you, I swear!
And getting through that bit brings us to the real trauma of interview time. How is it that they always ask you questions that you don't know the answer to? Maybe more appropriately, how is it that I find I don't know the answer to such basic questions as "why do you want this job?"
"....because it will pay enough for me to go on holiday?..." BUZZZZ. Incorrect. Try again.
"....because...erm...I'm really calm under pressure so...what was the question again?"
"...so I read the advert on Arts Jobs and yes...um."
And seconds before the phone rang or I walked into this peculiar meeting I knew exactly why I wanted that job. It was because it sounded like something that I would enjoy and be challenged by and I would like myself for doing it. And despite the advert saying I need a degree, a thousand years of experience and ambitions to save the world, I believe I could do the job well. Just as well as anyone else. It is simply unfortunate that my biggest weakness (because we all know about that classic question) is a complete inability to sell myself.
But it's something I'm working on. (Apparently that's the key, you know: self-knowledge followed by self-improvement. A handy hint for the future from me to you.)
To prove I am working on this difficult self-promotion, here are some strengths for your reading pleasure.

1. I don't give up. I sat here for a surprisingly long time thinking of these strengths. I did not go and make myself another tea, and I did not delete the challenge I just imposed on myself.
2. Sometimes I write silly poems or draw funny pictures or make fairy cakes which I will share with you. That is not bribery. 
3. I am unafraid to eat the last Jaffa Cake. None of this "you have it, no, you have it." I will be very decisive and bold. I may not always know what I want but I always want Jaffa Cakes.
4. Despite my lack of proof on the matter I am actually a bit clever/not unintelligent/a smart cookie (pick whichever makes me sound modest yet confident- I struggled). I regularly get more than five answers correct on University Challenge. Sometimes I beat the contestants. Boom!
5. This morning I deleted the Facebook app from my phone. If that doesn't take great strength I don't know what does. My five year plan involves leaving altogether. Don't let anyone tell you I don't have ambitions.

Obviously the list could go on and on but I don't want to seem vain. No one likes a bighead. 

But wait! People Google people now don't they? It's a strange new world and perhaps I shouldn't write about my job hunt whilst job hunting. Or is this an opportunity? If you are reading this potential employer I should at least say:
I love you! Pick me, pick me!! 

Across The Desert

Only three weeks late but it's been requested by lovely Jo so I think it's about time I finished my journey.

When I left you I was in LA about to head East to Las Vegas on that legend of American roadtripping: Route 66.
We came across it by accident in the end. We had stopped for a sandwich (thank you for the sandwiches Vons, you've taught us so much!) and suddenly there it was. A boring bit of road lined by shops and petrol stations and traffic lights. It did take us almost immediately to a Walmart though so we got to check that one off the list.
Eventually we got out of the city and I found myself driving along this:

Spectacular! 

It led us to our motel in Barstow. I can't say I recommend it. The motel was pretty shabby and the town was fairly disappointing but it did have some great things to see nearby. Our first stop was Peggy Sue's 50's Diner and Diner-saur park. 

There were dinosaurs...need I say more? We had milkshakes in the warm evening air, dinner to the dulcet tones of Elvis, and browsed a shop full of kitch. 

The next morning took us to a magical place. Anyone travelling in the area MUST go to Elmer's BottleTree Ranch. A local artist has created a forest of ...things. The stuff we throw out, broken, old, delapidated, transformed into treasure. Everywhere we looked there was something we missed before. A typewriter, a cowboy, an old phone, till, motorbike...And all around hummingbirds fluttered past our heads, sipping from the feeders strung up amongst it all. 

 

After some moments dancing amongst it all we moved on to Calico Ghost Town. A bit of a tourist trap really. It would've been much more interesting left abandoned and spooky but every old building was selling a different variety of souvenir. It does seem incredible that people lived there once at the heart of the wild west gold rush. It seems both an incredibly exciting time and a horribly difficult one. The lack of water there is terrifying. I was thirsty just thinking about it...but then, we are delicate British flowers, not made for the desert.

Tired by the heat and the American dream we drove south to our next home in Joshua Tree National Park. We arrived in the evening so it was cool enough for a little walk (praying we didn't meet a tarantula) before firing up the trusty Jet Boil for stew and a splash of whiskey to wash it down. 

We had some interesting neighbours for dinnertime. The scouts we having some kind of family evening so we were treated to some rather questionable speeches by the significant presence of their leader. Our favourite was him reading out a list of why girls are better than boys (by some women). 

"Girls smell better. Girls are polite. Girls make an effort with their hair." And other similar gems. All bad enough. I mean, I know some very nice smelling men, and Kirsty and I weren't exactly the most glamorous of creatures at this stage. He then went on to counter all these arguments with equally sexist drivel. Boys are better than girls because "Boys don't waste time at the mall. God made Adam first. Boys aren't afraid of adventures."

I hope the mothers who were there set the record straight once they'd gone home. I'm not entirely sure teachers should influence their charges with such rubbish. I was quite angry. 

But then they left and the milky way made its now familiar presence known. 

In the early morning we went for a very short hike in the desert. First of all, it is incredibly beautiful. There is such a variety of strange cacti filling the arid earth. Life is really very tenacious. We are not. We were back at camp by ten and felt quite weak. We had had to stop every few minutes to drink and rest. We had planned to spend the day there and camp another night but we couldn't bear it! So we did the only sensible thing and got into the car to bask in the cooling influence of the air conditioning. We would drive to Amboy, a town we picked out on the map (we rejected Palm Springs as it was in the wrong direction. Silly decision!) mainly based on the fact there was a crater nearby. 

Amboy has a motel and diner (without a kitchen) and nothing else. It's famous for it's signpost. 

We also saw the crater surrounded by lava fields from when it was an active volcano. You can walk up to the rim but the heat was like a hammer. As soon as we left the car I didn't know what to do with myself exactly. There is hot and then there is the desert. I've never felt physically sick from the weather before and it is not pleasant. Who'd've thought that I wasn't perfectly adapted to such an environment? I'm as shocked as you are. 

We had toyed with the idea of camping in Mojave Desert but a flood (what?!) had closed the road so instead we went to a town called Baker (how appropriate), home of one motel and the world's largest thermometer which read 109F (about 42C in real money). It was evening. We took a room and hid for the rest of the day and most of the morning before driving the last stretch to Las Vegas. It was 46C. Did I mention it was very very very hot?

Don't get me wrong, I had a great time there but I'm not sure Vegas is for me. An evening of people watching, gawping at The Strip, the water show, and exploring the hotels was really enough. Especially as we were all zen from weeks surrounded by the glories of nature, suddenly everything was gaudy and vulgar and greedy. It glittered and was fascinating but dirty in a way that I had not felt even after 5 days without a shower in the wild.

 

The casinos were intimidating. Money was everywhere. The air smelled like stale cigarettes covered by furniture polish. I'm not sure I'll go back in a hurry. One day we tried to find a pool to relax beside and the only ones we were allowed in had been turned into pool parties. We went to the car wash instead which was great. Not kidding. I love a car wash.

Our last day we went to see the Hoover Dam which was an amazing piece of engineering. How do people go about building this stuff. It's enormous. In the evening we dressed up, had some drinks and watched a Cirque du Soleil. Not used to drinking we were both much happier about Vegas :) especially when we popped into a New York, New York burger place on the way home. We finished the trip as we started it. 

I missed the penultimate day on purpose to end on the highest note. The Grand Canyon. What an utterly extraordinary place. It was a 5 hour drive so we set off just after 4am and arrived to a balmy, green and very pretty national park late morning. We'd watched the sunrise as we drove in Arizona. 

Yes, it's very touristy but the further you walk from the Visitor Centre the more you have the place to yourself to drink in how huge it is in peace/ take some jumping shots. 

It really is a beautiful place. You just don't get bored of it no matter how much you look. It's not just the vast crater, or the bright bands of rock. It's the hawks cycling lazily below you! It's the flower speckled edges softening the exposed rock. It's the wonder that that tiny far away river made this, and it's still going. 

We stayed to watch the beautiful sunset, filling the canyon with shadows and melting over the horizon before turning and seeing the moon had risen behind us, full and fat and glowing. It was Supermoon evening. A pretty special day all round.

We drove home through the night, arriving exhausted but still full of the magic of the day. 

And less than two days later we were saying goodbye to USA. A final meal at John Mull's Meats (go there if you get the chance. It's the most glorious brisket in the world. Fact.) and we were at the airport saying goodbye to Greta, our trusty steed, and preparing for Pitch Perfect 2: film choice number 1. 

And now here I am, nearly a month later and it's all a distant memory. Better start planning the next holiday then. This one will take some topping. 

To the sun!

Today, like the glamorous being I am, I'm writing to you from one of the beaches at Malibu. Kirsty is working on her tan and I am under a stripy umbrella, trying to find things to do to occupy myself. Luckily I was well prepared with things to write, a book and I braved the burny sun to swim in the warm ocean after we spotted dolphins swimming very close to shore. Incredible. They didn't come back to swim with us unfortunately. Alas! 
All in all it's been a very successful beach trip for someone who doesn't do well on the beach. Hurrah! :) not least because it is much cooler today than yesterday. Only a chilly 30•C  instead of nearly 10• hotter. Phew!
This is a huge change from where I last left you. The last spot on our trekking route was a place called Florence Lake. First of all is was quite tricky to get to. The last road up to the lake was single track but two way traffic (although very little of it thank god!), blind bends, vertical drops and random jagged rocks from nowhere. And all in the dark. It took us over an hour to go less than 20 miles. It was quite terrifying. 

In the morning it was raining. Not only was it raining but there was a forest fire nearby so the air was black with smoke as well. We braved a hike though, following the lake through the John Muir Wilderness: The man who inspired our trip.
Unfortunately the fairies must've been out that day because after we stopped for lunch the paths disappeared. Truly. We went straight on and it petered out to nothing. We went back where we thought we'd come from and hit an uncross able creek in our way. The path we'd arrived in was just not there anymore and the others came to abrupt ends. It turned out we were lost with only a couple if cheese strings for sustenance. 
But fear not reader! We are nothing if not made for survival in such extreme circumstances. Using a map and compass (check us out!) we worked out where we were, found high ground then followed the creek back up to Florence Lake until we found the path again. 
It was a bit creepy though. We came across a place where we suspect hunters prepare their catches. It wasn't the happiest place. 

Frustrated with the bad weather (we came to California in the middle of a four year draught and got rained on. Typical!) and the badly maintained routes/tricksy fairies, we left the next day for Big Sur and Monterey Bay on the Pacific Coast Highway. It was completely the right decision because we rejoined the sun and had a beautiful few days in a stunning bit of the world. 

We were driving on the best road...all zigzags and breathtaking views, there were huge birds, deer, redwoods and showers at our campground. The last is probably the most exciting. We had an afternoon on a beach, dinner in a diner from 'Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,' and did some shopping. We went to the world famous Monterey Bay Aquarium and saw into the beautiful alien world of under the sea. And there were sea otters. They are soooooooo cute! And did you know there is such a job as a penguinologist? Why am I not one of them? Then I could live in Monterey. Highlight! 

There was one scary moment when I was driving back to camp in the dark. My first driving at night experience and I did not like it at all. I especially didn't like it when a deer stepped out in front of me and I nearly hit it. And then 10 minutes later another one did the same. Both Kirsty and I were nervous wrecks by the time we got home. 
But moving on, we soon found ourselves on the way to LA and a wonderful friend, Monique, who we are staying with. She's the nicest and an excellent tour guide so we've had an awesome time. LA is so big, and with such different parts. You only have to walk from shiny Santa Monica where people are working out on Muscle Beach and walking tiny dogs, towards the shabbier Venice Beach where homeless men play the piano and men try to sell you incense as you pass them to see it. And then there's the big fancy houses near the hills, Rodeo Drive and Beverley Hills to show you another side again. 

Yesterday was my birthday and this really wasn't a bad way to spend it. We saw the famous sign and the sprawling city from Griffith observatory, ate tacos for breakfast and ice cream for lunch, went to an Emmys party where we drank margaritas and played ping-pong and then went to....wait for it...the cupcake ATM. Yes, you hear me correctly. It is a thing. A beautiful and delicious thing. We need one of those in London. 

What better way to celebrate arriving in one's late twenties? 
We have just a week left and tomorrow we depart for the last leg. But don't think about the end...I'm going for lunch. We have another blog left so until then...